“I— what?” I asked, thrown off guard. This was the last thing I had expected to hear from her.
“Do not mess with my family, Guardian. I’m not her mother, but she’s the closest thing I have to a child of my own, and I will not hesitate to punish those who cause her grief. Don’t make me have to come after you again.” She paused, and a cold smile crossed her lips. “Or do. It has been a while since my sword has been bathed in the blood of my enemies.” In the next instant she was gone, and Rayna walked up to me.
“Well, she was pissed,” she said.
I nodded.
“And also hot as fuck,” she said breathlessly. “Damn.”
“She just threatened my life,” I pointed out.
“Like I said. Hot,” she repeated, and I rolled my eyes. “Does she like girls?”
“Megaera does not like anybody,” I said, and we started walking again.
She shook her head. “Anyway,” she finally said. “Like we were saying. I think you said something about wanting to fight?” she laughed. “Her timing was perfect.”
“She is the perfect example. The fighting never ends.”
“Maybe you should stop pissing so many people off,” she said, and I shook my head.
“I have been called an ice queen. That one? She can freeze you with nothing but a look. I have never seen her show any regard for anyone other than Mollis. And sometimes Tisiphone.”
I felt immeasurably better about Megaera now. Of course, we still did not know who the betrayer was, but I was more than happy to still have to figure it out as long as I could tell Mollis that it did not appear to be her aunt. I typed out a quick text to Mollis updating her, noted that Brennan had sent a message telling me he was looking forward to the next night, and tried not to be too giddy over the prospect.
“You immortals are no fun. You need to lighten up a little.”
I looked at her in disbelief and shoved my phone back into my pocket. “Rayna, I am Death’s hunter. I am an immortal of the Nether. I do not lighten up.”
She laughed, and I sunk back into my morose state, the temporary relief over Megaera having passed. “And I think you are at least a little familiar with what that is like.”
We walked in silence for a few moments. “Yeah, I am. Like you can’t breathe sometimes. Like you feel like an asshole every time you take a break, because you know that the second you let your guard down, some jackass is going to take advantage of it.”
“Yes.”
“Like every bad thing that happens on your watch is your own personal failing.”
“That, too,” I said.
“And sometimes the only thing that makes any sense is the way it feels when you’re fighting.”
“Fighting, I understand. It is clear-cut. If someone is attacking me or someone I care for, they get destroyed,” I said. “All of this,” I said, waving my hand, indicating everything and nothing. “This maneuvering and backstabbing and betrayal and revenge… it is all so pointless. You would think that after eons of existence, my kind would get over this desire for power or revenge or whatever reason it is this time that trouble is stirring.”
“And you’re sure it’s your kind doing this?”
I nodded. “It is the only thing I am absolutely sure of. And this world is suffering again. We thought things were bad with the various immortals who were going after Mollis, facing off against her. At least that is a threat that can be fought in a straightforward way. This, what is happening now? It is a whole new level of insanity. The human realm would be much better off without my kind in it at all.”
We continued walking. “Well. I am glad you’re here,” she said. “I mean, the fact is, you always have been, right?”
I nodded. “But we did not usually live here among you. Not most of us, at any rate.”
“It’s a period of change for your people. There’s bound to be turmoil. The troublemakers will have their asses handed to them by you or Molly or the other immortals who are trying to keep things calm. It’ll all work itself out eventually.”
I gave her a small smile. “You have a lot more faith than I do.”
She grinned. “Old enough to know better, young enough to still hope. It’s a nice place to be. So do you want to spar, or what?” she asked, nodding toward Zero’s studio.
I nodded, and she opened the front door and waved me inside.
The studio was exactly what one would expect from two military men, I mused as I glanced around. The front wall of the building was mostly taken up by the plate-glass windows that looked out onto the street. The walls were painted a deep warm brown, and the wood floors gleamed. Punching bags stood in two of the corners, and one wall held a row of steel lockers.
Toward the rear of the building, there was a doorway into what I supposed was some kind of office or storage area, and it was through there that Shanti, Zero, and another male I had not yet met came out to see who had entered.
“E!” Shanti said, rushing to me and hugging me. I hugged her back, laughing a bit as she gave me a squeeze. “It’s good to see you.”
“Are you sure she’s supposed to be here?” Zero asked quietly, eyes on me. Shanti sent a glare over her shoulder at him, and he met it calmly. “She’s fighting with Molly, right?” he asked.
Shanti turned back to me, rolling her eyes. “Well, Molly is not here right now, is she? And honestly,” she said this part to me, still holding me in her arms, “the whole thing is stupid. I get that you lied.”
I nodded.
“And that was wrong” she chided, even as she continued to smile, her dimples deepening as she did so, “but I also know you enough to know that if you did that, you had your damn reasons. And if Molly gets mad at me for hanging out with you, I am fine with telling her that.”
I smiled at Shanti. “Thank you. How have you been?” She looked fabulous. She still wore her customary sleek bob, her black hair shining under the lights of the studio. Her dark eyes sparkled, and I noticed with a smile that she now wore a diamond ring, the gem sparkling beautifully against her skin.
“Perfect,” she said happily, another glance in Zero’s direction. This one, however, elicited an adoring look from the male she had selected as her mate. “What are you doing here?” She finally released me.
“I seem to be in possession of a new sword, and my skills with that weapon are a bit rusty. Rayna and I were out tonight, and I saw this place and remembered that she has quite the reputation with a blade.”
Shanti nodded. “She does. I can help you practice, too. And Parker’s not half bad, either,” she added, gesturing toward the male I did not know.
I glanced his way. He was likely the same age as Zero, somewhere in his late twenties or early thirties. And I cursed Brennan for insisting that I watch the Thor superhero movies, because when I looked at him all I could see was the actor who played the role of Heimdall.
“Oh, right. You two haven’t met,” Shanti said. “Parker Rowland, this is Eunomia.”
“She’s not a vampire,” he said, studying me.
“No. She’s a god,” Shanti said, and, after a moment, Parker nodded.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, and I found myself smiling. He was clearly not a Normal who had had much experience dealing with supernaturals. I knew he was Zero’s best friend, and I realized it was likely that his knowledge of non-humans had begun the day Zero told him what he was.
“Likewise,” I said.
“So, are we going to stand her talking all night, or are we going to spar?” Rayna asked.
Zero shook his head and went over to one of the locked storage lockers, returning moments later with two swords.
“Yours is similar in style to this, yes?” Rayna asked me.
I nodded. “It was why I asked you, specifically. The blade you use is very similar to the one I will be using.”
“Perfect,” she said. We each had a blade, and stood in the center of the studio while Parker, Zero, and Shanti sat on one of the benches near the
wall. Rayna smirked at me. “I assume I don’t need to tell you how to hold it, at least.”
“I think I can manage that much. Shall we?” I asked, and she grinned, and then she was on me with a flash of steel and speed.
I spent the next several hours fending off the deadly sword arm of the bloodborn queen, and it was exactly what I needed.
The next day passed in a flurry of gathering as many souls from Detroit and the surrounding area as we were able to in an attempt to head off the creation of any more undead. When we were not doing that, I spent time training my team. After all we had been through, I now had little fear of them betraying me, and I recognized that Brennan had been right about the benefits of training them. When I finally made my way back to my apartment after turning more souls over to Mollis in our meeting place, I did so with my stomach twisting, my nervousness growing as the minutes ticked by.
I was that much closer to seeing him again, and I had never felt so nervous in my entire life.
My team teased me ceaselessly, and I finally tore myself away from their bawdy jokes with a half-hearted rude gesture before I ducked into my bedroom, their laughter following me.
I rifled through the minimal items in my closet. There was a long-sleeved black dress I had bought for an event I had gone to during the time I had spent in New York during my travels. It fell to just above my knees. It fit me well, and covered all of my scars, which I liked. I did not enjoy the humans staring at them. I pulled it on, as well as my usual black boots. I tucked a Netherblade into each boot, did my makeup, and messed around with my hair until it fell in a way I was satisfied with. When I went back out into the living room, Quinn whistled.
“So I’m guessin’ not to wait up for ye, eh?” Claire asked with a grin.
I shook my head. “Enjoy the night off. We will be leaving when I return.”
There was a knock at the door, and I waved to them, leaving their laughs behind.
I opened the door.
“You are stunning,” Brennan said in greeting. I looked at him appraisingly. He was still dressed in the suit he’d likely worn to work, though his hair was down and he had splashed on cologne. I smiled to myself at the realization that he had put effort into this as well.
“Same to you. You are a manipulative male. You know this, yes?” I answered.
He grinned. “Did it get me what I wanted?”
I raised my eyebrow at him, and he placed his hand at the base of my spine, drawing me further into the hallway and out of my apartment. I closed the door behind me, locking it. “I suppose.”
“Just admit that you wanted to see me, Tink,” he said, leaning down and nuzzling the side of my neck. My breath hitched at the contact, and my heart pounded.
“Maybe,” I breathed, and he laughed, low, against my neck.
“Soon, Eunomia. Soon I’m going to make sure you can’t keep up this cool and collected act around me.”
I swallowed, wondering if he knew how close he was to succeeding that already.
“Well, you can try,” I said.
He raised his face, met my eyes. “I believe you just issued a challenge. I enjoy those.” He smiled. “And I think you probably will, too.”
I walked right into that one, I thought to myself as I let him pull me toward the elevator.
The drive to the restaurant was more comforting than I had expected it to be. I usually did not enjoy being in automobiles, and I particularly disliked being in an automobile that Brennan was driving. His tendency to dive in and out of traffic, to accelerate, to brake hard, often made me want to hurt him, at least a little bit. I knew I could not die, but somehow it did not make the experience any less stressful. He made an effort to drive more slowly when I was with him, and I appreciated it.
As we drove, he talked about work, and about Sean, and I filled him in on what we had accomplished in London.
“So she keeps just slipping away when you get anywhere near her?” he asked.
“Yes. It is extremely frustrating. She was difficult to apprehend in the first place. She knows more now. And I have no doubt that she is getting help. Too much is happening in London.”
“I think you’re right. But why her? What makes her so important, that she gets extra help from whoever is running this mess?” he asked.
“The only thing I can think of now is that she impressed whoever it is with her sheer will to be a nuisance. I can’t help thinking that chaos is a huge part of what we are dealing with. Chaos, fear. And now that the humans are noticing, it is only becoming more chaotic.”
“Is it just me, or do you get the feeling they’re in a holding pattern or something? Like they’re waiting, and then shit’s going to get bad.”
My stomach sank. He had voiced precisely the worries I had been harboring since our fruitless search in Whitechapel. I nodded. “ I do. Which is why we need to stop this. I need the betrayer to reveal themselves. I do not think it will solve all of our problems, but it will halt the creation of more chaos.”
He pulled up to the doors in front of a large, limestone building with a sign in the front window that said “Rayna’s” in a gold flourish of letters. A valet opened my door, and I exited, then stood and waited as Brennan came around after giving his keys to another valet.
He took my hand in his. “Okay. So we have fun. We get seen. And when this is all over, we’re going to spend days on end doing nothing but lying around bingewatching the Golden Girls.”
I felt a smile forming, even as I shook my head and rolled my eyes. “You are not going to let me live that down, are you?”
He laughed and squeezed my hand. “It’s one of the things I love about you, Tink.”
Once we were inside the restaurant, I made a note to myself to make sure I told Rayna how impressed I was. The interior of the restaurant had a 1920s feel to it, a very authentic sense of the period, which made sense. I had been there, after all, and so had she, though she had been a child at the time. The walls were painted a deep red, which was, perhaps, a nod to Rayna’s bloodborn status. In the waiting area, there were two long rows of white velvet upholstered art deco settees. Beyond, in the dining area, I could see a long mahogany bar, a row of matching stools. The tables were all set with white linens, period-inspired arrangements of blood red roses in the center of each one. Enormous chandeliers hung from the ceiling at regular intervals, dripping with hundreds of crystals that twinkled as they caught the light. A man in a tuxedo played a grand piano on a stage in one corner. Overall, it had a dramatic, opulent feel.
“It’s very Rayna, isn’t it?” Brennan murmured to me after speaking with the maître d’. I nodded, and he put his arm around me, resting his hand on my hip. Once we were seated, we sat in awkward silence for a few moments.
“Can we do something, Cub?” I finally asked.
He started to smile, and I knew he was about to make some type of flirty remark, but he thought better of it. “Sure. What do you want to do?” he said instead.
I particularly loved it when he dropped the flirty act with me. I loved it when he flirted, but I enjoyed our time together even more when he was simply himself.
“Can we not talk about work tonight? At all?”
He smiled and nodded. “That sounds like something we both sorely need.”
“It seems like it is all we talk about.”
“I know. Not tonight, though,” he said, and I smiled.
After a few more moments of silence, both of us sipping our drinks and fiddling with our napkins for a lack of anything else to do, he finally laughed. “We are so bad at this, Eunomia.”
“I suspected as much,” I said in agreement. Workaholics, both of us, defined almost entirely by the things we did in service of our friends and family and those unfortunate enough to have to deal with us. I opened the small handbag I had brought with me and pulled out a piece of paper I’d ripped from a steno notebook in my apartment.
“What is that?” he asked with a laugh.
“A list.”
“Questions to ask you.”
“This feels very formal, Tink,” he said with a smile.
“I am new at this,” I said wryly, and he reached across the table and took one of my hands in his.
“I am too. Ask away. Just promise me you’ll answer some questions about yourself, too.”
I nodded, aware that I was blushing yet again. How did he manage to do that so easily?
“All right. First question: when were you born and what were your parents’ names?”
He squeezed my hand again, then sat back and we both waited as the waiter set an appetizer of shrimp cocktail in front of us.
“I was born on October 4th, 1975. Shifter women usually have home births, because the pain of labor tends to make it hard for them to control the shift, and we definitely do not want to have to answer questions at at time like that.”
I nodded, and he continued. “So I was born in the bedroom of my grandmother’s house in Hamtramck. We were part of the Hamtramck pack back then, though our alliance ended when my parents started working more with Nain.”
“Why?” I asked.
“The packs have a weird relationship with Nain. We appreciate that he does good things. But shifters are almost notoriously obsessed with privacy, with taking care of their own problems. It was always a source of embarrassment when things among any of the shifter packs got so back that Nain had to step in. My parents believed in what he was doing, though. It was a bit easier to make that decision after my dad’s mother, my grandmother, died, which was shortly after I was born, I guess. No more family ties to the pack,” he explained, and I nodded.
“My mother’s name was Rhiannon Matthews. My father’s name was Sean.”
I tilted my head. “You have your mother’s last name.”
He nodded, and smiled, as if remembering. “My father took her name and gave up his own. I didn’t realize why that might have been until I found out what it is, exactly, that I am.”
I nodded. Of course, his father would have recognized how much more powerful Brennan’s mother, who, herself, was also a direct descendent of Artemis, would have been.
Betrayer (Hidden Book 7) Page 13
