Devil's Cry

by Shayne Silvers

  I stared at her woodenly, not entirely convinced that Stevie would see it that way—or that he would appreciate Natalie’s entrapping argument. Also, I needed his werewolves. Desperately.

  Victoria glanced from me to Natalie. “We have agreed to a temporary truce. We can share you, and only when we are together. In the same room. Neither of us is permitted to take a more…intimate step, alone, without the other’s prior permission.”

  I stared at them incredulously, wondering if I had just heard her correctly.

  Hyde sputtered incredulously—thankfully not with a mouthful of liquor this time—drawing our attention again. He stiffened, apparently not having anticipated that we could hear him as well as he could hear us. I was beginning to realize that he wasn’t the sharpest arrow in the quiver. He snatched up the liquor bottle on the table and simply bit off the top, guzzling and crunching the glass in equal measure. I winced, imagining what glass would do to his guts, let alone his gums.

  Poole stared at me in stark wonder, as if he was seeing a holy miracle in the flesh.

  Hyde finished the last of his bottle and lowered it in confusion, blinking at it. Then he flung it at the wall—where it shattered—before crouching down over the cooler to see if he could find a refill, grumbling under his breath all the while.

  He finally found a replacement and bit the top off of that one as well. “Thank you,” he said, raising the broken bottle my way.

  I frowned. “For?”

  “Walking into my bar,” he muttered, shaking his head.

  Poole gave me a solemn nod of agreement.

  Rather than commenting on any of the insanity, I turned and walked away in search of a skinwalker to interrogate. At least that made sense to me.

  “He’s hardcore,” Hyde rumbled.

  “A man’s man,” Poole agreed. “So stoic.”

  I rolled my eyes and walked faster. I didn’t even know where Nosh was, but I decided that I’d rather find out myself than getting stuck in another bizarre conversation. Even if Hyde doubled as a dependable shield.

  20

  After searching the entire tenth floor with no success, I’d chosen to use the elevator to check the lower levels. I hadn’t wanted to circle back to the stairs and risk encountering Victoria and Natalie again. They had probably already determined more rules that they expected me to obey, and I didn’t have time for any more distractions. As it was, half the night had already been wasted as a result of the witch attacks, and I still had private business to conclude with Isabella—business that had been interrupted by the attack at dinner.

  Nosh wasn’t going to be pleased to learn that the entire dinner had actually been a carefully orchestrated ruse that served multiple purposes. My purposes.

  Only Isabella and Victoria had known that.

  Once I got what I needed from Isabella, I would need to confront Nosh about his lies. I hadn’t decided which lies I wanted to address yet, but I knew how I intended to soften him up.

  This floor featured a vast open space in the center that was decorated with pedestals and displays depicting the history of the colossus above. Pictures of its various stages of construction and design process hung on the walls, along with biographies of the men and women who had been involved in the conception of the astonishing structure.

  The moment I’d seen the iconic landmark from a distance, I’d agreed with Dr. Stein’s assessment that it was a perfect location for her new laboratory—for multiple reasons, including the practical, principled, and superstitious. Although it wasn’t easy to visit, the multiple benefits of its location far outweighed the inconvenience. And Hugo had been eager to spend some of Dracula’s cash on a new asset. I smiled, satisfied at our progress—at the successful collaboration of Nero and Dr. Stein, to be precise.

  Offices lined the walls, each featuring glass windows that opened towards the center displays. Since all but one was dark, it took me no time to find Nosh and Isabella. I didn’t care to modify my stern countenance to appease their concern, so they watched my approach through the window with hesitant smiles.

  I did lift my hand in a polite gesture so that they didn’t think I was here to murder them—which I thought was incredibly courteous of me.

  I opened the door and paused at the entryway. The carpeted room featured a desk and chair, a bookshelf, a couch and armchair, and a coffee table. Isabella was reclined on the couch, propped up by pillows and her arm was hooked up to an IV drip like those Dr. Stein had set up on the floor above—except this one held a bag of clear fluid rather than blood.

  I smiled politely at Isabella, ignoring Nosh entirely.

  “Hello, Sorin,” she said nervously, lifting a hand to self-consciously fix her red hair to the side. “Thank you for getting us to safety.” Nosh sat in the armchair beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder. He echoed her greeting, but in a warier tone, clearly reading my body language. Despite his concern, his pulse was as slow as ever, because Nosh knew how to remain calm when the figurative house was on fire. And his house was on fire, alright. It was a raging inferno.

  I nodded at Isabella, waiting.

  Nosh cleared his throat. “You were about to ask me something before all hell broke loose at the restaurant.”

  I glanced at him briefly, not bothering to hide my annoyance. “I was.”

  His polite smile faltered. “I heard you did something to upset Stevie—”

  “I need to speak to Isabella,” I interrupted. “I’ll let you know when I’m finished.”

  Nosh’s pretense at civility disappeared. “Okay. Let’s talk outside. Now.”

  I gave him a cool, dismissive look. “When I’m finished, boy.”

  Isabella lifted her untethered hand, snapping her fingers to prevent Nosh from lurching to his feet. “It’s okay, Nosh. I do have something for him. I was unable to give it to him at dinner.”

  He jolted, slowly turning to stare at her with a somewhat betrayed expression. Because he hadn’t known about it. He shifted his attention to me, and his eyes danced with fury. “I see.”

  He calmly stood, brushed off his pants, and exited the room, closing the door behind him.

  I took his place in the chair with a contented sigh, crossing my legs. Isabella shot me a slight frown. “I don’t know what is going on between you two, Sorin, but I hope you are not the type of man to be cruel for no good reason—especially to a friend.”

  “I am not,” I reassured her, considering whether the term friend still applied.

  She sighed wearily, realizing that I would not be entertaining other topics until our business was finished. “They have agreed to your request for a meeting in the underground—the same place you originally suggested.” I nodded, masking my sudden excitement. “Tonight. Two hours before dawn. Alone.” She reached up to unclasp a golden necklace from around her neck and then handed it over to me. “Show them this crucifix as proof of both your identity and that you have spoken with me. Otherwise, they may mistake you for one of the other underground residents,” she said meaningfully, alluding to my vampires.

  I dangled the necklace before me, watching it swing back and forth in the lamplight. “You told them about my immunity from touching holy items,” I commented. “Smart.”

  “Necessary,” she corrected. “Otherwise there would have been no meeting.”

  I nodded. “It wasn’t a criticism. It was a compliment. Thank you.”

  She let out a sigh. “Don’t thank me yet. I can’t guarantee a peaceful outcome, because I don’t know your intentions. I hope you know what you are doing. They are not fans of vampires, but they were intrigued by your immunity—and me vouching for you.”

  “And you didn’t mention anything to Victoria? Or anyone else for that matter?”

  She shook her head. “I keep my word, Sorin. Always.”

  I nodded, letting the silence stretch for a few moments. “When were you going to tell me that you were a witch?” I asked gently, so as not to intimidate her.

  She leaned
her head back into the pillow. “At dinner, as a matter of fact. But to be completely transparent, I was only going to tell you because I feared how you would react if you found out on your own—feared you jumping to the false conclusion that all witches are the same. The truth of the matter is that the Cauldron is mortal enemies with the Sisters of Mercy. Witches of the dark arts hate our focus on healing and nurturing. We disgust them—an offense to the title of witch, since all they care about is power and control.”

  I listened intently, having hoped as much. “You hide behind religion to prevent open war.”

  She nodded. “We aren’t prepared for war. Our magic is in healing, not harming. Our magic works against many other monsters but is sorely inadequate when facing the black sisters of the Cauldron. So, yes. We hide behind religion—and do wondrous things for the world in our cowardice.”

  I set an appeasing hand on her shoulder, picking up on her obvious offense to my comment. “I did not mean it in that way. I think it’s a clever tactic. The Cauldron doesn’t dare stand against the entire might of the church, which allows you to continue your good work without fear of persecution.” She relaxed, nodding proudly. “Does the church know what you are?”

  She grew still and I sensed her pulse steadily increasing. “No,” she whispered.

  I squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “Your secret is safe with me, Isabella. I swear it.”

  She finally turned her head to meet my eyes, and I had a difficult time forcing myself not to stare at her vulnerable throat. I wasn’t hungry, but the angle of her head emphasized the intoxicating pulse of blood beneath her thin skin. And she was injured. My prey drive was instinctual, something I always had to dominate.

  “Until you overthrew Dracula’s hold on the city,” Isabella said, “the Cauldron maintained a respectful distance, only peppering the vampires and werewolves with minor attacks as if to keep up appearances. They have never dared such a risky mission as they did at the restaurant tonight. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it—what did I do to suddenly make them so bold?” She sighed, closing her eyes for a long moment. “Families, right?” she said tiredly.

  I grunted my agreement of her last comment. “They were not after you, Isabella. They just wanted you out of the way. They wanted Nosh, or maybe something he has in his possession. According to the second assault I endured, anyway. I’m confident they have since added me to their list,” I said dryly.

  Her eyes snapped open and she spun to face me with a thoughtful frown. I watched as the white witch’s gaze flicked to the door and then back to me, her suspicion brewing. “So, that’s what this is,” she said, blinking slowly. “You knew that our private talk would bother Nosh. You’re trying to get under his skin. To find out what they wanted from him.”

  I smiled faintly. “An added benefit. I was also fishing for information from you about witches in general.”

  She snorted lightly, shaking her head. “Nosh is going to feel overprotective and hurt, wondering what we are discussing right now and why he wasn’t welcome, making him easier for you to manipulate. He thinks our talk is about what happened tonight, not the secret meeting I arranged for you.”

  I lowered my eyes. “It is difficult to get Nosh to open up, Isabella. I’m not trying to hurt him.”

  “As long as his interests align with yours.”

  “I hope to help him realize that our interests do align, but first I must get him to listen. Hence the façade.”

  She shuddered. “That is…devious.”

  I nodded. “It is better than direct conflict and shouting at each other for hours while the Cauldron circles closer. His stubbornness could get him killed.”

  She frowned thoughtfully, processing my words. She finally turned to give me a nervous nod.

  “What else can you teach me about the witches? Both the Sisters of Mercy and the Cauldron.”

  “We oppose each other. We white witches want to heal and give blessings, but the black witches want to harm and take. We are powered by love; they are powered by hate. Two sides of the same coin. It’s why our noses bleed when we get too close to each other.”

  “But they didn’t pass out,” I said, frowning.

  Isabella pursed her lips. “I accepted a drink from a waitress when I was talking to Victoria. She set it next to me and walked away. I didn’t think anything of it. She left so quickly that my nose didn’t even have time to bleed. I took my first sip as you and Nosh were walking back from the bar. I passed out a few seconds later. Dr. Stein said I’m fine, but she’s got me on fluids to make sure,” she said, lifting her arm with the IV. “It is why I thought the attack was focused on me, because I saw you rushing back to the table with panicked looks on your faces.”

  “Well, I am glad that you are okay. I want you to stay here where it’s safe—even if you’re feeling better. It’s only going to get more dangerous outside in the next few days.”

  She studied me as I rose to my feet. “You’re not just referring to the witches, are you?”

  I shook my head. “No. I have a few dangerous ideas of my own,” I admitted. I dipped my head at her. “Get well, Isabella. I think you are good for Nosh. He shines brighter in your warm light.”

  She gave me a surprised smile. “Well. I guess you aren’t all that bad.”

  I smiled. “I’m not sure there’s a warm enough light out there for me. The sun is off limits, so I manage as best I can.”

  She studied me curiously. “Be easy on him, Sorin. You’ve already delivered the first salvo before he was ready.”

  I smiled politely and left the room without agreeing. That was entirely up to him.

  Nosh stood beside a display case in the center of the room, reading a placard within. His body language was tense, but his pulse was steady. Now it was time to see how convincing I could be.

  21

  Hearing my approaching footsteps, Nosh turned to face me. He was wearing a t-shirt that depicted a Native American man’s face and, below it, the words “Fighting terrorists since 1492.”. I didn’t know what a terrorist was, so I dismissed it. Nosh’s face was calm, but his eyes blazed like stoked forges. I nodded at him in greeting. He didn’t nod back.

  “I had my own reasons for going to dinner tonight, Nosh, and you were only one of them.”

  He gave me a hard stare. “What are you talking about?”

  “Isabella had obtained valuable information for me. I made her promise not to tell anyone, so don’t be upset with her. It quite literally had nothing to do with you.”

  He clenched his fists angrily, but his pulse remained steady. “How dare you? She isn’t your soldier, Sorin. I didn’t wake you to watch you build a brand-new empire.”

  “That’s what emperors do, boy.”

  “Your secret put her in unnecessary danger.”

  I arched an incredulous eyebrow, unable to stop the ear-to-ear grin that split my cheeks. “Oh, that is rich! Are you really sure you want to go there, boy? To talk about secrets putting others in danger? Please, say yes.”

  He stiffened, turning back to the display case.

  “That’s what I thought,” I muttered. I gave him a few moments to calm down, eyeing him sidelong. “The witches were after you, but I’m sure you already knew that. Isabella didn’t, though. She blamed herself for the attack.”

  A flash of guilt crossed his features, letting me know he hadn’t considered that possibility.

  “A second band of witches ambushed Natalie and me after we fled the restaurant. They were able to prevent her from shifting,” I said, letting my fishing statement hang in the air for a few moments, wondering if he would admit to being a skinwalker on his own. He didn’t, so I continued. “I’m guessing they also have measures in place to counter your powers as a shaman.”

  Nosh pursed his lips in a thin line, still not answering.

  “They intended to kidnap and torture us until we took them to you—and your tomahawks. Apparently, they sensed them when you called them up inside the res
taurant. The same tomahawks you used to kill those vampires at the auction, remember?” I asked jovially. “Turned them to red dust.” I waggled my fingers in the air dramatically, but he didn’t look over at me. “Though at the time, I thought they were just elemental constructs—some kind of shamanistic light—because I specifically remember putting a pair of magical, antique tomahawks inside a box to hide them from Mina Harker. We even gave them to a friend of yours for safekeeping. That’s an impressive sleight of hand, Nosh.”

  He didn’t respond, continuing to study the display case.

  “Perhaps you’d like to comment on why you created such an elaborate lie—because I wouldn’t have given two shits if you tucked them into your belt the moment I pointed them out.”

  His jaw clenched. “It’s personal,” he rasped. I folded my arms, waiting for more. “You weren’t supposed to notice them. It was inconvenient for me. I’d hidden them at my parents’ penthouse a long time ago so that no one would ever find them. I’m confident that they were the real reason Mina Harker killed my parents, but I couldn’t tell you that.”

  I winced at the pain in his voice, but it was just another factor that proved my point. “Just to clarify, are the Griffins your parents or not? I get easily confused when blood tests contradict what my friends tell me.”

  He froze, slowly turning to stare at me. “Blood tests…” he repeated in a flat tone.

  “I got the crazy idea that you might be my son. Then a test shows me you really are a Griffin. Makes a man wonder…” I trailed off, giving him another opportunity to come clean.

  He stared at me for a long moment. And then he simply burst out laughing. “I am not your son, Sorin. That’s just ridiculous.”

  I watched him in silence until his laughter faded. “We’ll put a pin in it. The witches want these tomahawks something fierce, Nosh. Your parents died for your lie. Isabella almost died for your lie. I almost died for your lie. Victoria almost died for your lie. Natalie almost died for your lie, and she wasn’t even in the restaurant!” I shoved him forcefully. He rounded on me with a pained snarl—both furious and heartbroken. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t hand you over to the witches right now, because your fucking secret is going to get us all killed. And think very hard before you answer, because I already know!”