Toria could have recited all of that by rote, but instead compressed the speech into “Limani acts as the barrier between the two colonies. What does that have to do with you and Mama not spending time together? Didn’t the council even play poker games a long time ago?”
“Once upon a time. Your mother took money from the other members on a regular basis,” Dean Joensen said. “Her constant winnings were the reason they eventually stopped. Jarimis warned me when I first took my seat on the council, but I still found out the hard way.” She rose to her feet and faced Toria and Kane. “You will tell Victory what happened today?”
“Oh, she’ll know,” Kane said.
“Anything in particular you want me to pass along?” Toria asked.
“Tell her what happened to you today. Tell her what type of person Limani has elected to rule it, and that we need to do something about it.”
Now Toria wished she had paid more attention to Victory whenever her mother spoke of the council. Fabbri had been elected with two other new councilmembers. Were either of them also spreading this hate through the city? They still needed to find the mage who had charmed Café Lizzette. “We’re with you,” Toria said.
Victory wasn’t sure what woke her first—the last of the sun’s rays setting over the forest or Mikelos’ shout from outside their makeshift shelter. She scrambled to her feet after Asaron and ducked out from the tarp behind him in the dimming evening light.
Asaron drew his basket-hilted sword, the Schiavona he had wielded for hundreds of years, and took up position next to Mikelos. Her daywalker already braced himself with the pistol readied, though pointed at the ground. Victory heard another crash through the nearby underbrush. Mikelos glanced back at her and twitched his head toward where her sword leaned against a tree. She snagged it and drew the blade in time to hear a familiar shout.
“It’s just us!” her daughter called out. “Don’t shoot!”
Victory and Asaron lowered their swords and Mikelos barked out a laugh. “Stealthy you are not, daughter!”
The tall form of her foster son, Kane Nalamas, ducked under a low branch and emerged into view, followed by her adopted daughter. “That was kind of the point,” Kane said. “Didn’t feel like getting skewered today.”
He staggered when Asaron clapped him on the shoulder. “Good call, boy,” Asaron said. “A good skewering is never fun.”
Victory lowered her sword and embraced Toria. “How did you even find us?”
“Tracking spell in the hilt of my sword,” Toria said, pointing at their small shelter. “I can find that thing down to a three-square-foot radius.”
“It’s true,” Kane said. “We’ve played scavenger hunt with it a few times, and even mage shields can’t hide it from her. As for how we knew you were out here, we went by the house looking for you and found a rather frantic message on your answering machine from the customs master.”
“So we headed to Merc HQ and grabbed long-distance wheels, enabled the tracking spell, and headed out for the rescue,” Toria said. “The SUV is back on the road, less than a mile away from here.”
“That’s my girl,” Victory said, squeezing Toria’s shoulders again. “I wasn’t looking forward to the walk.”
Asaron ducked back into their shelter and returned with Toria’s sword. “I believe this is yours, Granddaughter.”
Toria made grabby hands at the weapon and all but hugged it when Asaron relinquished it to her. “Thanks again, Grandpa. I owe you one. Speaking of.” Toria reached into her backpack and pulled out two canteens that she handed to Asaron and Victory. Asaron popped the cap of the charmed bottled and chugged down the preserved blood. Once drained, Victory handed over her own bottle and he repeated the process. She could wait. Her sire had had a rough few days.
“Let’s head home,” Mikelos said, accepting a bottle of water from Kane’s pack. “Have to call Rhaavi and tell him we owe someone a boat.”
“Indeed,” Victory said. “Did we miss anything today?” Toria did not hide a dramatic flinch.
“Well,” Kane said. “You could say that.”
“You did what?”
Her mother’s demand echoed off the tile floor of the large kitchen. Next to Toria, Mikelos rubbed his ear. All five of the family gathered around the table while Toria, Kane, and Mikelos ate a late pasta dinner and Victory and Asaron nursed mugs of blood.
“Um, can I ask which one you’re most mad at before I start defending myself?” Toria refused to be too put out. If Victory had really been angry, she would have stormed off to cool down on her own. Instead, her mother seemed more in shock than anything else. Understandable.
Victory shook her head in slow disbelief. “Burning down your apartment, I can understand. You’ve done worse.”
“Almost burning down the apartment.” Even while admitting to the havoc she wreaked, it still wasn’t fair to say Toria had done any real damage.
“Okay, almost burning down the apartment,” Victory said. “No, what concerns me more is that little stunt at the restaurant.”
“It was a bit of a drastic measure, Toria,” Mikelos said.
Toria jumped to her own defense. “It’s not my fault the lady was a jerk to me. And I had no idea she would call the cops the second I walked into the place.”
“Ooh, scary mage alert!” Kane’s quip caused a ripple of laughter, breaking the tension around the table.
Her mother matched her smile. “You’re right, love. The police involvement was not necessarily your fault. But it might have been something you’d suspect.”
“But nothing bad happened,” Toria said. “I wasn’t arrested. Nothing went on any sort of record. And by her actions, Emily Fabbri proved in front of everyone in her restaurant that she is prejudiced to the point of extremism.”
“And the question we must now ask is exactly how far she will take that prejudice,” Victory said.
“When’s your next council meeting?” Asaron said.
“Two nights from now.” Victory tilted her chair back. “Half an hour after sunset. Which means I believe I will be calling on Dean Joensen tomorrow evening.” She stole a sip of Mikelos’ beer. “And afterward, perhaps some coffee at Café Lizzette might be nice.”
It was going to be a fun evening.
Soon after sunset the next evening, Victory drove out to Jarimis University. She still had some time before the dean was expecting her, so after parking near the administration building, she took a few minutes to wander over to the Garden of Remembrance that overlooked the river. Various friends over the years had described the gorgeous sunsets over the Agios River. Mikelos even taped one onto a vid-disk for her a few years ago, but her family informed her that it could only truly be experienced in person. The river was just as beautiful by starlight, however.
Even she donned tank tops in summer weather this warm, and a light breeze brushed over Victory’s bare shoulders as she wound her way through the garden. Water splashed in a small fountain, the stone spout in the shape of Toria’s rapier. She knelt at the edge of the basin and ran one hand over the bronze plaque—Victory’s personal contribution to the garden established by the college.
IN HONOR AND LOVING MEMORY OF JARIMIS
BELOVED PROGENY AND FRIEND
A sudden flash of memory. Jarimis standing before her, arms wide to encompass the river and surrounding land. His tousled black hair made even wilder by the wind blowing off the water. “Like my new project?” he said. “It’s time I stopped trying to be a mercenary like you.”
Laughter interrupted her reverie, and she raised her head in time to see a trio of students attending summer classes wander into the garden from the direction of the history and social sciences building. A blanket hung over the young man’s shoulder and the girls clutched paper bags that clinked to her vampiric hearing. They must be cutti
ng down to the shore for the traditional student pastime.
The three froze when they saw her. Victory rose to her feet and smiled at them, careful not to show fang. But they returned hesitant looks. Then, the young man said, “You’re Victory, aren’t you?”
“So somebody did actually attend my orientation lecture,” Victory said, hoping the teasing note in her voice would relax them. Every fall, Victory gave the same short talk Jarimis used to make about the importance of education in this post-Wasteland era, also including a brief speech on the university founder’s life.
Their nervousness at stumbling upon Limani’s Master of the City seemed to fade. The young man even gifted her with a tentative smile. “I’m a History major, so I thought your talk was really interesting. I’ve been to some of your other lectures, too. You’re a good storyteller.”
Unexpected, but welcome, praise for her skill as a guest lecturer in the History department. “Thanks.” Then she made an offer that surprised even her. “If you ever want to get together and talk about anything specific, just ask my daughter or Dean Joensen. They’ll get you in touch with me.”
He flushed. “That would be awesome. Um, it was nice to meet you.” His two companions fidgeted beside him, not as comfortable conversing with Victory.
“Have a good evening!” she called after them. Speaking of the dean—Victory dug her old pocket watch out of her jeans and saw it was about time for her meeting. After one last sweeping look over the now-deserted garden, she cut through the bushes in the direction of Lena’s office.
“Victory!”
Dean Joenson waved Victory over. As she approached, the dean grasped the railing and rose from her seat on the main steps of the building.
“You’re looking well, Lena.” After accepting a hug, Victory studied the woman with a critical eye. “Arthritis acting up again?”
“As always,” Lena said. “Though it’s not as bad as it could be. I’m not looking forward to the humidity later in the summer. And you’re lucky I was going to sleep in before the council meeting tomorrow night anyway. Else you’d never had gotten me out so late.”
“I’ve said time and again that I don’t mind if the meetings are during the day,” Victory said. She took Lena’s arm, and the two women headed toward the parking lot.
“Yes, but then you’d be stuck in the council building during daylight hours.” Lena paused as Victory unlocked the town-car and held open the passenger door. “After the werepanther attack a few years ago, you annoyed the clerks endlessly until you could safely leave. I don’t think they’d stand to have you around on a regular basis.”
“It’s true,” Victory said. She pushed the ignition button, and the electric engine hummed to life. She pulled out of the parking spot, remembering to turn on the headlights when she caught up to another town-car in front of her. While she could see with almost perfect clarity at night, the rest of the city, with the exception of perhaps the eldest werecreatures, could not.
Deciding the true purpose of their meeting could wait a bit longer, Victory asked after Lena’s son in Calverton. The women made small talk about their families during the trip into downtown Limani, enjoying the chance to catch up. Victory realized that aside from hurried greetings before and after the biweekly council meetings, they had not had the chance to truly talk for over two years.
Not bothering to hide down the street, Victory pulled into a parking spot in front of Café Lizzette. Emily Fabbri might have gotten away with throwing a young warrior-mage out of her restaurant, regardless of the mage in question’s parentage, but she could not risk pulling the same trick with fellow councilmembers. This late in the evening, many of the diners were university students. They knew their dean, and Victory was almost as recognizable.
“That’s interesting.” Lena pointed toward the music shop. Propped in the window was a handwritten sign: No Nonhumans Please.
Victory cut the town-car’s engine and sat forward, comparing the two signs. “That’s not interesting. That’s a really bad sign.” Her voice contained a hint of snarl at the end, despite her inadvertent pun. “This crazy idea of Fabbri’s is spreading. Also, Mikelos is going to be really pissed off. That’s where he buys all his sheet music.”
Lena laid a hand on Victory’s arm. “I know you probably want to go marching in there like your daughter did. But please remember that we must be the stronger side in this situation.”
Her grip tightened on the steering wheel. “I know how to be good.”
“Yes, but please do.” Lena patted her shoulder. “Ready to go in?”
“Not much point in putting it off, is there?” She helped Lena out of the town-car, handing the keys over to the other woman with a wink. “Just in case.”
They entered the restaurant accompanied by a blue flash of light. Victory hadn’t heard such ominous bells since walking into a bar populated by vampire-phobic werewolves a few decades ago in Fort Caroline, the capital of the southern Roman Colonies.
This time, hostility filled just a few of the stares. Her own hackles were up, and she wished for the days when the wild world remained a good enough excuse to wear her sword everywhere. With the possible exception of the two werepanthers in a booth toward the back—she thought she recognized them from the incident a few years ago—she was many times stronger and decades more experienced than anyone in the room. Having a solid blade in her hand would have reassured her. But in this situation, carrying a weapon would get her barred from the restaurant sooner than her blood.
While Victory surveyed the room, Lena handled the pleasantries. The first obstacle, getting into the restaurant at all, was crossed when the dean greeted the young waiter by name and asked how his finals had gone. Confronted with such familiar authority, he’d had no choice but to lead the two women toward a booth in the back. It did not escape Victory’s notice that he placed them right next to the werepanthers, and that all of the surrounding booths and tables sat empty. The rest of the diners were seated in the front of the restaurant. They both acknowledged the fact in silence. Victory was irked. Lena seemed more thoughtful.
The waiter took their coffee orders—cream and sugar for Lena, black for Victory—and handed them menus. Instead of heading into the kitchen, however, he disappeared into a side office after promising to come back for their orders.
“Off to warn Fabbri already,” Victory said. “And I was actually hoping to enjoy dessert before things went to hell.” Just because her body couldn’t gain any nutrients from regular food didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy the sweet stuff on occasion.
Lena stared past Victory, her lips pursed. “Don’t be too offended, but I don’t think he recognized you. It was probably the blue light when you walked in.” She closed her eyes. “And speak of the devil. Looks like we don’t even get our coffee tonight.”
Victory twisted in her seat in time to see Emily Fabbri marching across the floor between empty tables. Their fellow councilwoman stopped at their booth, her eyes shooting daggers. “Can I help you, ladies?” she spat.
No, not daggers. Long spears. With vicious barbed ends, and possibly poison. Victory made a show of surveying her menu. After shutting it, she smiled back up at Fabbri, intentionally showing fang. The human woman hid a flinch, but Victory didn’t miss the slight tension of her body. “Yes, thank you. I’ll have a slice of your carrot cake. Cream cheese icing, I hope?”
Fabbri placed both hands flat on the table and drew forward, invading Victory’s personal space in an attempt to recover ground. Victory’s estimate of the human lowered another few notches. She never saw signs of intelligence in antagonizing a vampire. Fabbri’s attempt at intimidation fell flat as her gaze slid across Victory’s left cheek, unable or unwilling to meet her eyes.
“Otherwise, I’ll take one of your apple turnovers,” Victory said, ignoring Fabbri’s hostility.
“Look,
you beast,” Fabbri said. At that derogatory comment, the werepanthers at the next booth both turned to look. “It’s obvious where your ‘daughter’ gets her stupidity from since apparently neither of you could read the sign on the door.”
It took just a gentle push with one fingertip against Fabbri’s shoulder to move her out of Victory’s personal space. “I’m going to ignore that insult to my daughter and ask you to never get that close to me again. Your breath leaves much to be desired to those with heightened senses of smell.” Lena kicked her foot under the table, warning her to play nice. “By the way,” Victory said. “You are aware the two young ladies in the booth next to ours are panthers? Having trouble reading your own sign?” Her last sentence dripped with more sarcasm than she had intended, but the woman was too easy to goad. Lena could berate her for it later, but right now she would have her fun.
A slight flush reddened Fabbri’s cheeks. “They were let in while I was running an errand outside of the restaurant. That waitress has already been let go.”
Lena had observed the heated exchange without comment, but this forced her to put in her two cents. “You fired her?”
“Of course I did.” Fabbri sniffed her disdain. “The girl could obviously not be trusted to keep the unsavory elements of Limani out of my restaurant. I run a respectable establishment.”
Relaxing against the padded booth, Victory caught the restaurant owner’s eyes with her own. This time Fabbri did flinch away. “And you were able to tell that the two ladies behind me were werepanthers, how exactly? I know I have these silly fangs to give me away, but it’s not like werecreatures have tails while in their human form.”
Steel Victory (Steel Empire Book 1) Page 5
