“I don’t know how we’re going to manage,” I admitted. “I can’t abandon Savannah. It’s my home, my whole life is there, but I would never ask him to leave all this.”
Without understanding how potentates were elected, or selected, I wasn’t sure he could set aside his mantle, even if he wanted to.
“You’ll figure it out.” He cocked his head, hearing something I had missed. “They’re asking for me.”
“I’ll get cleaned up and be right out.”
After Bishop left, Clem followed me into the bathroom, and we stood there for an awkward moment, jostling for space, before I caved. “Um, I don’t think there’s room for two?”
“You wouldn’t be saying that if I had red hair and freckles.”
I hid my blush by digging through the bags of supplies Neely had arranged for our doomed trip to see my grandmother and selected clothing fit for groveling. The tone ought to be fitting for the alpha, considering both women were leaders.
“Give me a minute.” He shuffled me out the door and shut it behind him.
“All you had to do was ask if you needed to go.” Worried he might decide to demonstrate his newfound aim, I elected to check and recheck my outfit choice. The toilet didn’t flush, and no water came on, but Clem opened the door looking mighty pleased with himself. “What did I miss?”
“A camera and two tiny speakers.” He opened his hand to reveal the small devices and the fine tangle of cords that had powered them. “I figured they would want to keep tabs on the occupants in a place like this.”
“Thanks.” A shiver blasted down my spine. “Bishop did say people let themselves in. I can see why they would want to protect their investment, even at the cost of their guests’ privacy.”
“People do all kinds of things in restrooms because they believe it’s the one place no one is watching.”
“Bishop won’t be happy you broke his toys.”
“What about Linus?” He closed his hand over the knot of electronics. “What will he be?”
“Not happy he didn’t remember to warn me.” I traded places with him. “Since this is Bishop’s domain, Linus might not have known.”
“It’s possible,” he allowed. “There are no trapdoors for you to fall through or secret passages that could swallow you whole. Even you should be able to manage getting clean without being kidnapped and/or murdered.”
When he turned, I stuck my tongue out at his back. Too bad he caught my reflection in the mirror.
Fiddlesticks.
By the time I finished scrubbing myself clean, wrapped up in a surprisingly plush towel, and got my hair dried, a heated argument had broken out in the bunkroom. Tired of the bickering, I shoved open the door. “What’s going on in here?”
“Bishop and Clem have a difference of opinion,” Linus informed me, a cord dangling from his hand.
The towel earned a raised eyebrow and a more thorough examination that set off butterflies in my tummy.
“Your friend here could have asked me about the cameras, and I would have told him I already shut them down as a courtesy to you.” Bishop made certain to look anywhere but at me. “He didn’t have to rip the equipment out of the walls.”
“I didn’t rip anything.” Clem swung the camera in a lazy circle by a single black wire. “I clipped each one, nice and tidy. You can reinstall them in ten minutes a pop if you’d stop crying and do the job.”
The growl that revved up Bishop’s throat was animalistic, and it sparked interest in Clem’s eyes.
“You’re not brawling in here,” I warned before he threw the first kick. “Apologize to Bishop, Clem. Better yet, help him with the reinstallation. Maybe you can offer tips on better hiding places.”
Linus shut his eyes, and it took me a second to grasp what I had said wrong.
“I didn’t mean to imply you didn’t place them well.” I winced under Bishop’s withering stare. “I just meant…”
“Go on.” Clem waited. “Tell him what you really meant.”
“You’re not helping,” I snarled between clenched teeth.
“I’m here to protect your ass, not kiss it.”
“Out.” I pointed at the door. “I need to get dressed, and you two need to cool off.”
Not bothering to wait until they cleared the doorway, Clem and Bishop resumed their argument while Linus continued his referee duties.
Ten minutes later, I emerged in a navy pantsuit that matched the color of Linus’s eyes. The cream blouse was thin to compensate for the trim jacket. I expected to sweat buckets, but Neely had proven his taste reigned supreme when I didn’t so much as dew.
The matching jewelry I told myself was paste. They had to be. Otherwise the sapphire and diamond combo were going to cause tears to well and ruin the eye makeup I had applied with a light hand since I couldn’t remember what went where and how much to use.
Linus, who had been watching the dominant gwyllgi on screen over Bishop’s shoulder, glanced up when I walked into the control room, and the look in his eyes as he swept them down my body made me hot in ways I couldn’t blame on the fabric.
“You clean up nice, Woolworth.” Clem wolf-whistled at me. “What do you bet that fashion designer friend of yours packed a matching tie for Linus?”
“He’s not a fashion designer.” Yet. Give him time, money, and free rein, he might well become one. “But that does sound like a Neely thing to do.” I caught Linus on his way to the bunkroom. “You don’t have to put it on.”
Either Linus had excellent natural taste, or he learned how to dress well as a protective measure during his formative years. Adhering to his mother’s exacting standards while living under her roof had turned out a son whose polished appearance gave the impression that he must be a clotheshorse but, as evidenced by his acceptance of my often holey and ill-fitting wardrobe, was fashion blind outside of the rules hammered into him for himself.
Button-down shirts were casual for him, but ties were rare. I didn’t want him to feel he had to change to please me, and I didn’t just mean his outfit.
A shrug rolled through his shoulders. “I don’t mind.”
“He’s actually going for that matchy-matchy crap,” Clem marveled. “A guy like him…what he can do…who he is…and he gets his jollies matching his fiancée like you’re teens about to head out to prom.”
Eyes narrowed, I dared him to make an issue of it with Linus. “He knows the value of a good presentation.”
While that was true, it wasn’t the whole truth. The fact was, Linus enjoyed being included. It had been such a rare occasion in his life up until now, he leapt at the chance to belong. And when it came to an outward sign of belonging to me, he was a sucker for symbolism.
As I thought it, I groaned inwardly. I had just outlined my failures in the proposal department yet again.
Bishop flicked a glance toward the door leading down to the cell. “I’d better go plant the vamp before he wakes.”
The vamp implied Bishop wasn’t one, but dang it. I had manners. I would not ask him outright.
“I’ll help,” Clem volunteered, not sounding suspicious. At all.
After they left, I waited on Linus, who had decided to shower while he was at it by the sound of things, in the control room. “Anybody home?”
Three out of the four monitors showed movement, but there was no sound.
When no one answered, I claimed Bishop’s chair, pulled out my phone, and texted Lethe.
Change of plans.
>>I heard. Midas called earlier. Wimp. He could fight Mom, he just won’t. He’s such a momma’s boy.
Not that. Johan Marchand paid us a visit. Severine is dead, and so is that lead.
>> Sorry to hear that. Not about her, but about the lead.
You have a heart of gold.
>>It’s only gold plate. I had to up my game if I wanted to hang out with Dame FancyPants.
That’s not my name, and no one has ever called me that.
>>To your face.
I’m the least fancy pants dame in the history of the Society.
>>You’re fancy by association. Linus is a walking billboard for the Society. He ups your street cred.
How are things in Savannah?
>>Not great.
We’ll figure out something.
>>The Society would cry about it, but we could burn the vamps out of their nest.
An image of the Lyceum shrouded in smoke popped into my head, and I cringed. I had no love for city hall’s secret subbasement. Nothing good had ever come of me going there—except for my proposal to Linus in its elevator. But I could respect its history, its value, and its symbolism.
The Lyceum was a bastion for necromantic arts, and its loss would cripple how other supernatural factions viewed us. Worse, it would prove Clarice Lawson couldn’t hold on to the power she had so recently been granted. There would be a coup, likely more than one, and it would get bloody before it was done.
Savannah had bled enough for my grandfather. I wasn’t about to let him rip open her very heart.
I’ll touch base before we head home.
>>Bring food.
I already owe you donuts…
>>That’s dessert. I want something that bleeds.
Fine. I’ll see what I can do. It’s going to be hard enough smuggling what I’ve got across the barricade.
The sentinels, who had been switched to rations served at their chow hall, would smell the fresh donuts and descend on us like locusts. Factor in fresh burgers or steaks, and we would have a riot on our hands. I had already decided to buy extra glazed to hand out, but meat got expensive fast when you multiplied it by those numbers.
Maybe Linus had a point. I was a wealthy woman, and those men and women were serving their community. They deserved what little reward I could give them.
Linus is calling me. Gotta go.
>>Liar.
>>MOO.
With that text handled, I shot Amelie an update to let her know to expect us back early so she could tell Woolly, who would inform Oscar.
Despite our trip sucking royally so far, Linus had arranged for the first shipment of nonperishable food items to be delivered to Woolly ahead of schedule. According to Amelie, she expected to have the first deliveries prepped and ready to go once the bottled water arrived.
After that, I checked in with Neely, who had volunteered for packing duty and was dragging Cruz along.
Marit had also pitched her hat in the ring and was supervising while the gwyllgi unloaded the truck. The pictures of taut biceps she forwarded, I ignored. The abs got deleted. When the pictures started following happy trails, I cut off my phone.
Still, a warm glow ignited in my chest when I thought of my friends working together for a cause that impacted us all, human and necromancer alike. The uninitiated citizens of Savannah might be aware they were barreling toward a crisis, but they had no clue what it was or who had orchestrated it. I was lucky enough to have friends unafraid of opening their eyes to the reality of our worlds, how they intersected and often collided.
“We’re at your disposal as well, you know.”
Jolted by the intrusion into my thoughts, I glanced around. “Are you talking to me?”
“Whatever we can do to help,” Anca reiterated, “we’re happy to do so. For Linus. He’s such a dear man, and he’s given so much to us all.”
About to do the polite thing and wave off her offer, I hesitated to first consider. “Can you track books?”
“I assume you mean rare and expensive tomes, not quarter finds at the bargain bin.”
“Rare, yes. Expensive…” The blood drained from my cheeks, leaving me cold. “The information they contain is priceless, but I don’t think they were sold. I believe they were donated.”
The note from Severine hadn’t given me much to go on, but I had a gut feeling she hadn’t accepted cash for the transaction. No, she had been paid in spite. Buckets of it.
“That muddies things. Unless provenance is a concern, which is more often the case with a purchase and not a donation, there is little paperwork to form a trail to follow.” She hummed low in her throat. “Do you have the seller’s information?”
Without making a conscious decision to do so, I sought out Linus for support he was too distant to offer.
I had to make this call alone. He wouldn’t have brought me here if he didn’t trust these people, so I would show a little faith too. “Severine Marchand.”
“Oh, dear.” Anca brought her fingers to her lips. “Your grandmother. I can guess what she gifted, but gods. The possibilities. A woman in her position, in possession of that particular information…”
“You’ve brought the term goddess-touched back in vogue,” Milo chimed in, his monitor flickering. “You and your kind were a well-kept secret until the ball. Now those who didn’t know are learning all they can, and those who had forgotten are remembering what you can do. There have been few goddess-touched necromancers named in what remains of our history on the subject. You’ll be the first in modern times, and having your face out there… It’s going to be tough. People will want you to perform miracles for them, and some won’t stop with paying for a one-time service. They’ll want to own you exclusively. They’ll want all rights to your designs, your services, your everything.”
“I’m beginning to see why Maud kept her secrets,” I admitted, and it was a bitter confession.
As much as I wanted to continue railing against her memory, discovering Cletus’s true identity had burst my self-righteous bubble. I was so much in need of Maud’s forgiveness for trapping her in a wraith’s existence it was hard working up the mad to call in my own markers. She had done what she thought was best for me. I could see that now.
While her efforts had stunted my growth as a necromancer, they had also allowed me to live a normal life. Well, as normal as any High Society darling’s life ever was when their adoptive mother was Maud Woolworth. The fact was, if she hadn’t been murdered, and if I hadn’t been blamed, I might have lived my entire life certain I was a no-talent hack. I would have kept to my wards, my small magics, and let my pedigree go to waste.
A Marchand raised by a Woolworth. The Society had expected great things to come of that combination, just as my grandmother’s letter claimed. Two prominent names, two powerful bloodlines. I should have been a rising star instead of a falling one.
“Secrets?” Linus eased into the room. “Whose secrets are we sharing?”
“Maud’s.” A twin pang of loss moved through me as his features tightened before he schooled them back into neutral lines. “I was saying I understand her better now.”
“Hindsight.” Joining me, he rested a cool hand on my shoulder and curled a strand of hair around his long finger. “It’s like spending months painting a mural, focused on the individual details and small sections of your canvas. You spend all that time pursuing one goal: completion. You develop tunnel vision where you see only what’s in front of you. And when your last brushstroke is done and you step back for the final time, you get your first complete look at what all those hours and days bought you.”
“But,” I pointed out, “you can touch up a mural. You can correct imperfections. The past is what it is. There’s no changing it. We can step back and take it all in, soak in the details we missed at the time or didn’t assign enough importance, but that’s all we can do. Reflect and regret.”
“Perhaps I should have compared it to a timed quiz. Once the pencils are down, it’s done. All that singular focus on each individual question evaporates, and you’re left sweating the results of the whole.”
“Let’s stick with the mural analogy.” A pained groan rose in me. “Your quizzes are brutal.”
“You quizzed her?” Milo chortled. “That’s hardcore.” His shoulders bounced. “Let me guess. Anatomy?”
“Make it stop.” I turned my face into Linus. “Please.”
Amusement laced his tone. “Aside from our curriculum—”
“—w
hich did not include anatomy lessons,” I grumbled against his side.
“—what were you discussing before I interrupted?”
Uncomfortable with asking a favor of a stranger, despite my earlier resolve, I wriggled in my chair. “Anca offered to help locate Severine’s missing collection.”
Aware of what the admission cost me, he squeezed my shoulder for support. “She’s a talented researcher. If anyone can uncover its location, it’s Anca.”
Milo cleared his throat then attempted to mimic Linus. “That Milo chap is a right golden egg too.”
“A right golden egg?” Linus shifted his weight toward the monitors. “I don’t talk like that.”
“You’re going too heavy on the Brit,” Anca agreed. “Linus doesn’t use British lingo, assuming that’s what accent you were butchering.”
“The sun’s coming up,” Bishop spoke over them, and I started at his voice. “Time for me to crash.”
Curious if biology or scheduling was the reason, I glanced back at him. “You’re bleeding.”
“You told us to get square.” Clem entered behind him, also bloodied. “Now we’re good.”
Suddenly, their decision to work together to deliver the vampire assassin to his home made a lot more sense.
“Make no apologies,” multiple voices chorused to Bishop from the screens.
“Survive,” he answered, then exited through the door we entered with a wave over his shoulder.
Hearing Maud’s credo adopted and adapted by them…
I ducked my head and brushed away tears, grateful Linus had ensured her words lived on outside of us.
“I should be going too.” Anca covered a delicate yawn. “You’ll be gone by the time I come back online, but I’ll stay in touch and update you on my progress.”
Stifling my own yawn, ready to get this show on the road, I smiled. “I’d appreciate that.”
“Thanks for offering to help,” Milo parroted my voice. “Your big, strong man brain is such an asset to the team.”
“You got the asset part right,” Anca countered, her screen going dark before he got in a parting shot.
How to Wake an Undead City Page 8
