Yes, the viscountess was being selfish in her desire for the murderer to be caught. But then, that wasn’t unusual. Everyone wanted a killer to be found: because it made them feel safer, because it made them worry less about their friends and family, or because it impacted their lives in some other way. Catching a killer gave people — even complete strangers — closure.
After all, Alice would dearly love to know who had killed her mother, and who had stabbed her. But then, you never could get everything you want.
Tal and the viscountess struck up a quiet conversation, and Alice made an effort not to listen in. She stayed in the lead, and was thankful to see the cool stone lines of the City Guard building up ahead. It was made of bluestone and redbrick, with cream render highlighting the windows and doorways. Alice strode up the stairs quickly, aware of Tal and the viscountess coming up slowly behind her.
Opening one of the large wooden double doors, Alice headed inside, nodding at the guard who was on duty at reception. The guard stood behind a large metal desk that spanned the room wall-to-wall. They had had a shift change since Alice had left. This guard’s brown and black uniform was slightly rumpled, but he gave Alice a half grin when she walked past, shifting his attention from a human man in expensive-looking civilian clothes: the cit was waving his hands in front of him and complaining loudly. Most guards didn’t enjoy getting stuck on desk duty; they were active people. But everyone had to take their turn and be present in case anyone came in to file a complaint or report a crime. Like now.
Alice strode toward a door with the ‘City Morgue’ brass sign on it. She unlocked it, then turned the light on. A dull pink glow lit the stairwell, warming to yellow as she ventured down the stairs. The air grew perceptibly cooler the further down she went. Reaching the morgue’s antechamber, she went through the glass-paneled door, and turned on another light and headed to the end of the examination room. That was one of the benefits of working in a government building: sodium lighting. Her home had lamps; no one in her building could afford gas lights.
Reaching the last body in the room, she began to unbutton its violet shroud while Tal and the viscountess caught up. Looking back, Alice saw the vampire’s nose wrinkle in protest. Alice was used to the smell, but it was clearly stronger for vampires. When Tal and the viscountess stood on the other side of the body, Alice opened the covering. Pale flaxen hair spilled out as she pulled back the sides, and the face was exposed.
A gasp echoed through the room.
The viscountess was staring wide-eyed at the body, a fist pressed to her mouth, knuckles white. Her other hand was outstretched, reaching toward the corpse.
Tal gingerly laid a hand on the vampire’s shoulder. “Misty?”
The viscountess shuddered, and with shaking hands finished unbuttoning the shroud. Alice stepped back, thankful that she’d properly covered the body with the green nightgown, even if the incisions from the autopsy were still visible.
The viscountess stared at the exposed corpse, and a single tear trickled from her eye before she brushed it aside. Taking a deep breath, she ran a gentle finger down the dead woman’s cheek. The tenderness of the gesture nearly brought Alice to tears, and she knew beyond a doubt that this woman belonged to the vampire’s family.
Bending down so her forehead touched the dead woman’s, the viscountess whispered a soft, “Good-bye, Mother.”
Alice’s heart jolted in her chest.
Her mother.
Memories rushed back to her, threatened to swamp her. But she ground her teeth together and gripped the side of the bench tightly. Across from her, Tal cast her a concerned look, but didn’t seem to know who needed help more, Alice or the viscountess.
Straightening, the noblewoman met Alice’s gaze, her lavender eyes like flints.
“How did she die?”
Alice looked at Tal, suddenly helpless. This was all too real. She’d just inflicted on someone the same pain that had been inflicted on her. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t spare me the details,” the vampire said, ignoring Alice’s condolences. “Tell me everything. This murder is going to be of interest to the king.”
“The king?” Alice squeaked.
“This is my mother, Countess Wintermere, Lady Maerylina Kipling.” The viscountess stood ramrod straight. “She is a peer of the realm. The king will have to become involved now; peers can’t be murdered, it creates instability.”
Alice glanced beseechingly at Tal, who gave a slight shake of her head, which was of no help at all. Alice remembered what it had been like for her, when she’d identified her mother’s body...sometimes, having something to focus on other than your own pain was important. It helped keep you going.
So Alice began to speak, “The countess was stabbed four times, although it was the first that proved fatal...”
Chapter 32
Skarva City
Fin had a bad feeling about the situation. Sure, he’d felt a little uneasy just strolling into the Deadly Duchess’ estate, but who wouldn’t? She hadn’t earned her reputation by snuggling puppies and hosting tea parties. No, she’d gotten her nickname through the wholesale slaughter of an entire vampire family — grandparents through to grandchildren. Admittedly, those grandkids had been adults, but still. Apparently there’d been so little of them left that they’d only been able to identify the individuals when the duchess had pointed out what body part belonged to whom.
This was supposedly Hannah’s mother.
Surely Hannah wouldn’t have gone running to her parent upon finding Rena, if the woman was a complete psychopath? But then again, Fin didn’t really know Hannah all that well. She had her secrets.
And...maybe Hannah was also secretly nuts.
“My brother?” She was staring at Mr. Randall with wide, incredulous eyes.
Fin wondered why she looked so shocked. Maybe she’d thought her brother was dead? He guessed he might react the same way if he’d found out that his sisters had come looking for him and that they were in the next room. He repressed the need to glance around to make sure they weren’t stashed away nearby somewhere. While the Deadly Duchess was scary, the idea of reuniting with his sisters was even more terrifying. He had a lot of explaining to do.
Randall sniffed haughtily. “Yes, your brother.”
“I have a brother?” Hannah’s mouth was hanging open. Fin wanted to tell her to watch out, that she might swallow a fly, but he doubted there were any flies in this building. It was so pristine, he could see his reflection in the polished floor.
Wait.
“You didn’t know you had a brother?” Fin asked her, eyebrows raised almost to his hairline. A hairline that hadn’t receded one whit, he liked to admit.
Hannah shot him a look that said, ‘Clearly, idiot.’ He wasn’t offended; he liked women with sass. Not that he liked Hannah, not like that. Oh, she was nice, and intimidatingly beautiful. But for one thing she was too intense, and for another she hated being touched. And three, well, her mother was the scary Raven Duchess. Even he had enough sense to not mess with that pedigree, no matter that he found the Deadly Duchess less frightening that the combined wrath of his sisters.
Four to one odds. He could do math.
“Then I guess we had better get on the road tomorrow.” Hannah gave Fin a tentative smile. “I will stay here tonight.”
“Surely the duchess has a carriage that could take you?” Fin wondered. Not that he wanted to see the back of Hannah or Rena — he’d miss the kid. But surely that would be better for her and the baby? Maybe he and Byrne could follow along behind.
“Of course,” Mr. Randall said, but the vampire’s expression made the hackles on Fin’s neck rise. He wished Byrne were here; the bear would be able to pinpoint the reason for Fin’s unease.
Then the vampire lunged forward and grabbed Hannah’s arm. She froze, her whole body immobilized in shock. Between clenched teeth, she gritted, “What are you—”
Then sh
e collapsed, her eyes rolling back in her head. Randall caught her as she fell, and her head lolled over his forearm, her long dark hair dangling in a braid down to the shiny marble floor. Fin rushed forward to grab her, but the servant was there, wrenching his arms back. Pain shot through his ribs, and he dropped to his knees, gasping as fire spread out from his chest. He stared helplessly at Hannah.
He’d come in to protect her, and look how much use he’d been.
None.
Defeat swamped him. Every single time he needed to protect someone, he failed. Every. Single. Fucking. Time.
That was why his own baby girl was in a grave.
But better not to think on that.
“I’d be really interested to find out how you and Lady Hannah are friends,” Randall said. Fin realized the vampire was staring at him with cold, flat eyes. “Considering she still seems to be suffering from her ‘disability.’”
He’d done it deliberately. Touched Hannah to see if it would harm her. “You’re a real bastard,” Fin said. “Do you think the duchess will be happy, knowing what you did?”
“Come now, the duchess’ daughter suddenly appears after years of self-imposed exile, while the duchess is away? You seriously didn’t expect me not to take advantage.”
Fin didn’t bother to reply. Bad timing, that’s all it was. Some opportunistic dick was trying to take advantage of the situation. But they wouldn’t be helpless for long, he thought. Byrne would be coming back for them soon, and Fin would put his money on the bear over these primped vampires any day of the week. He just had to make sure that in the meantime he kept himself and Hannah in one piece. Well, two pieces.
“Take them down to the cells,” Randall ordered. “I want Lady Hannah to have a think over her temporary change in circumstances.”
*
Fin leaned his head back against the cool stone wall of the cell. Randall the Douchebag really had dumped them down in the dungeon. The air was chill, and the floor was sapping the warmth out of the back of his legs. He’d made sure Hannah had been laid on the prison’s single bed. He wasn’t entirely sure that was the best idea — what with her sensitivity and her avoiding touching people and things in general — but the bed was made of stone and he’d pulled the mattress off before they’d laid her there. He was now using it to keep the meager warmth in his butt.
It was clear Randall thought Fin had stolen the mattress to make himself more comfortable, at Hannah’s expense. The vampire had snickered and muttered as much to the servant, who Fin had pegged as an idiot crony. He didn’t bother to correct either of them; let them believe he didn’t care for Hannah’s safety or comfort. Maybe it would mean they’d think twice about using him or Hannah as collateral.
He wished he wasn’t injured, because he sure would have enjoyed punching out their grins.
Without a watch, Fin reckoned Hannah had been out for about three hours. As the minutes ticked by, he grew more worried. Was this normal for her? He’d tried talking to her, shouting, even thought about dumping water on her head, except he didn’t have any. The vampires hadn’t been back, so Fin assumed that they knew she’d be unconscious for a while. But he wanted her to be alert when they returned; if she was asleep, in a coma, or unconscious — whatever her state was — she’d be completely at their mercy.
There was only one option open to him.
He levered himself to his feet and struggled over to her. His ribs were hurting like a bitch, and he had a feeling he’d set his healing back a week by being wrenched around by that dick of a servant. He was so going to enjoy watching Byrne rip the man a new smile when the bear finally came back for him and Hannah.
Hannah’s face was turned to the side, and she was lying on her back, one arm dangling over the stone bench/bed. Standing over her prone form, Fin hovered his hand over her face. Just do it, he told himself. His conscience piped up at that moment, accusing him of violating her privacy, calling him all kinds of names. The ones he usually reserved for Byrne.
“She’s out cold,” he muttered.
But she hates being touched.
And Fin wasn’t the kind of guy to go against someone’s wishes. But they were stuck here, and she was vulnerable, and there was still no movement from her. She had to wake up, it was the only way she could protect herself.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Then he touched her.
Chapter 33
Skarva City
Hannah jolted upright, arms flailing. She heard an oomph and opened her eyes. It was dark, she couldn’t see, and the air was cold. Her brain was foggy and she didn’t know who was with her.
It’s okay, she told herself. Her vision would come back soon, it always did. She heard breathing and a protesting grunt. She recoiled from it, jerking her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, hands gripping her elbows. Her physical size reduced to something more manageable, she looked around and a fuzzy figure came into focus. Fin. He was standing in front of her, a hand cradled to his stubble-covered cheek.
“You hit me,” he muttered, rubbing his jaw. He gave her a wounded look. “It hurt.”
Hannah looked down at her hands, then at his face. She wasn’t wearing any gloves.
She didn’t have any of Fin’s memories, just Randall’s. Perhaps the touch had been too quick? Or her mental defenses had been up because she’d been sorting through another set of recollections?
Fin backed away and then sat down on a mattress someone had put on the floor. “The appropriate thing to say in this context is, ‘Sorry Fin, of course I didn’t mean to hurt you. I understand your best asset is your pretty face.’”
Hannah couldn’t help the snort that escaped her. “I’m not Byrne.”
“Unfortunately, you’re right.”
Hannah glared at him over her knees. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re trapped in a cell in your mother’s estate. I’m in no shape to get us out of here, and you can’t touch anyone to help me. I should have gone with the baby, Byrne should have stayed. Fuck the politics.” He leaned his head back against the wall.
Unease prickled in Hannah, as the memories she’d absorbed from Randall rose to the forefront of her mind. She’d been a fool. Not because she failed to predict her mother might not be here, but because she’d been so trusting of her mother’s colleagues.
Fin was right; he was already injured, and from the expression on his face, their captors had probably hurt him some more when they transported him down here. Plus, she’d just smacked him one, and even a gentle tap from a vampire wasn’t something to disregard. She’d probably given him a new bruise.
This was all her fault.
“Why did they even keep me alive?” he wondered into the silence.
Hannah flinched and answered from Randall’s memories, “They want to use you to make me cooperate.”
She didn’t admit what they wanted her to cooperate about.
“They think you’ll give in to whatever they want to save me?” Fin shot her an incredulous look.
Hannah bristled. “Why is that a stupid idea? You think I wouldn’t want to help you, after everything you’ve done for Rena and me? You think I’m that selfish?”
“Hannah, we barely know each other. I didn’t even know your mother was one of the four founding leaders of Skarva. We joked about the Deadly Duchess when you suggested naming Rena after her. You keep yourself to yourself, and I don’t blame you. You’ve obviously got some shit going on with your ability, and no,” he held up a hand, the stitches visible even in the dim lighting, “you don’t have to tell me what it is. I get it’s a secret.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “But you don’t trust us, well, me, at least. You’ve spent more time talking to Byrne, and I totally get it. I was half-comatose in the back of a cart after being nearly beaten to a pulp by an entire town ‘cos I slept with someone’s wife. Not the most stellar way of induc
ing trust. Then, you arrive home somewhere supposedly safe and within five minutes, someone wants to use you for something. Why would you want to do anything to save someone like me?”
“Someone like you?” Hannah asked. She didn’t know what else to say. Most of what he’d said was true, but...
Had his cheeks gone a bit red?
He shut his eyes. “A womanizer, a slut, someone who can’t even look after himself, let alone anyone else.”
Hannah couldn’t help it; she stormed over to where he sat and, as he and Byrne would say, glared the fuck out of him. “What kind of bullshit is that?” She jabbed the air in front of him.
She doubted that Byrne would put up with this self-pity, even though the bear teased the other man enough to make her bored with normal cuss words.
“What?”
“Who cares that you like to have sex?” Hannah slashed a hand through the air. “From what I can see, people enjoy sex. It helps the species keep going. And it’s not your fault that you drew the short straw and had to come here to help me, even though you’re injured. You tried.”
Fin looked stunned.
“You don’t know everything—”
“I don’t need to. You and Byrne have done nothing but help me since you found me on the slopes of the Old Mother. You guys could have turned out to be rapists, or predators, or something, but you weren’t. You went out of your way to bring me here to my mother, so that Rena and I could have a chance together. And what have you asked of me?”
She put her hands on her hips and waited.
“I don’t know what you’re getting at,” Fin said finally.
“You have asked me for nothing.”
He frowned. “Yet.”
She rolled her eyes. “Pfft.”
“Wait — did you just ‘pfft’ me?”
“That was the polite version of what I was thinking.”
“Why don’t you just say what you really think, then?” Fin suggested, wincing as he folded his arms across his chest.
“Fine. You’re being a moron.”
Bitten (The Graced Series Book 2) Page 14
