Unless her partner had done something stupid. No. She wouldn’t go there.
Now for supplies. There was no sign of her horse, even after she walked the edge of the woods and whistled for a few minutes. Either the Romans had taken the mare, or she’d given up on her crazy mistress and headed home. Guess that meant a walk back to Limani.
Weapons? The horse hadn’t disarmed her before wandering off, so the Romans must have searched her. Her knives were gone, along with the small amount of money tucked in one of her pouches. They hadn’t made a thorough search—the rest of her money was still tucked in the hidden pocket on the inside of her duster.
That left her sword. She had ignored the absence of its comforting weight, but could pretend no longer.
“Bastards!” She scooped up a rock from the edge of the river and sent it hurtling through the air. It landed with an ineffectual splash, but still made her feel better. Asaron would never forgive her for losing the sword after everything he went through to get it fixed. Why hadn’t they taken her with them? Maybe she’d managed to disable a few of them and they hadn’t had room. The thought consoled her, but not by much.
Toria stared across the river, trying to ignore the tap dancers in her skull. Everything in her urged her to go south, track the damn Romans, and rescue Kane. Yes, he still lived, but for how long?
She was at the edge of the water, waves lapping at her boots, before she realized what she was doing. “No, Toria.” She didn’t even have a water bottle, much less weaponry. Her magic was strong, but a rescue attempt would be a lot easier with a blade in her hand.
With great reluctance, she pulled herself away from the water’s edge. No, she would have to return to Limani for aid. And painkillers. At least she’d accomplished their mission. The Romans were close to the city, and she had to bring the warning.
Toria distracted herself from her head by gripping the glowing glass even tighter in her hand. The power in the bauble strained, and the light guttered like a candle, then went out. When she attempted to reactivate the spell, sharp pain lanced her between the eyes and she doubled over again.
She hoped dawn came soon. It would be a long, agonizing walk, but daylight at least meant she wouldn’t trip over everything.
The second Mikelos’ eyelids began to twitch, Victory shot out of her seat by the window and across the hospital room to his side.
“Victory?” His voice grated.
“Hush, love, you’re safe.” She squeezed his uninjured hand in reassurance and pushed the call button by the side of his hospital bed. “We’re at Limani Central, you’re okay now.” As okay as he could be with a leg brace, a splinted hand, bandages around his ribs, and a nasty bump on the back of his head. Victory still seethed inside, but she shoved the feelings down. Right now she needed to stay calm for Mikelos, not have a temper tantrum and start throwing furniture around.
A nurse poked her head into the room. Victory gestured toward the awaking Mikelos, and the nurse disappeared again. The doctor would come soon—her continuous flow of money to the hospital played to her advantage tonight.
Mikelos’ eyes centered, and she returned his smile, brushing his hair off his forehead. He managed to raise his head a few inches and look down his body. A sheet hid him from the waist down, but there was no mistaking his bandages. “My hand—?”
“Ah, awake?” The doctor handling Mikelos’ case bustled into the room and nudged Victory out of the way to check on his patient. “Hello, Mr. Connor, my name is Dr. Preston. May I call you Mikelos?”
Mikelos nodded once, and squeezed his pale lips together in pain. He let his head fall back against the pillows.
Victory tensed, but the doctor had things well in hand.
“Easy, Mikelos,” he said. “You’ve had quite a night.”
She stared in fascination while he did mysterious medical things involving shining a light at Mikelos’ pupils. Visions of doctors from centuries past haunted her, wielding saws to “fix” knee injuries like the one Mikelos had suffered. Mikelos would receive special treatment due to his connection with the hospital’s best patron, but battlefield experiences of spilled blood and severed limbs still lived in her vivid memories. She’d confessed these to Daliana earlier when Mikelos was being patched up, but the elven woman had just patted her hand and told her that memories were potent things before heading downstairs to her office. Truer words were never spoken, especially when spoken by the hospital’s chief psychiatrist.
She ran her hands through her hair, pulling it into a messy bun. Dawn was approaching, and between the council meeting and Mikelos’ attack, it had been a long day.
Dr. Preston finished probing at Mikelos’ side. “The good news is that your ribs are bruised, but none of them are broken. Three bones in your hand are broken, but those are splinted and will heal with time. We’ve also ruled out a concussion.” Victory had heard his summary of her daywalker’s injuries, but the doctor stepped back to include her when he spoke to Mikelos. “However, you also tore the anterior cruciate ligament in your knee, so we’re going to have you pretty happy on pain medication until we can schedule surgery today. Ms., erm, Victory has assured me that you will heal faster than a normal human, but we’re still going to take every precaution against further aggravation of your wounds.” He picked up the chart hanging at the end of Mikelos’ bed and flipped through it, making a few notations.
Mikelos reached for Victory, and she stepped closer to take his hand again. “How much blood?” He traced the small bandage decorated with blue stars on the inside of her wrist where she had made the tiny incision with a scalpel snagged from a closet. The night nurse had balked at Victory’s request for the medical supplies, but calling Daliana back upstairs had bypassed the issue.
“A few teaspoons,” she said, entwining her fingers in his. “You’ll be on your feet in no time. We’ll reevaluate in a few hours and see whether we can avoid the surgery.” She kept repeating it to herself: her daywalker was strong. He was not a normal human. Mikelos would heal even faster than Toria had when she broke her leg a few years ago.
“There will be the matter of some necessary physical rehabilitation, but, um, yes.” Dr. Preston’s discomfort rose, as it had earlier when Daliana helped Victory cut her wrist to collect the blood. Victory pitied him, but there wasn’t much choice. It wasn’t like any of the doctors here knew anything beyond the basics about vampire or daywalker physiology. Since they were the only two permanent residents of the sort in Limani, it wasn’t a specialization in much demand. He would do the best he could under the strange circumstances. He cleared his throat. “But until then, we will take excellent care of you.” Saving him from further awkwardness, the pager at his side chirped its insistence. Dr. Preston mumbled his excuses after checking the number.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Victory said, but he had already fled the room. “Poor guy. But he’s a good doctor. Or so Dal assures me.” She couldn’t keep the suspicion from creeping into her voice.
Mikelos smiled up at her. “That’s my girl.” His voice slurred.
He was crashing, hard. The pain medication must be kicking in, and combined with the extra work her shared blood was doing to help heal him, it was no surprise. Healing took a lot out of anyone. Victory tried to lighten the mood. “So, you didn’t put up a very good fight. When was the last time you even picked up your sword? I’ll have to put you back in training with the kids when you’re better.”
“The guy?” Mikelos’ eyes were half open, but he still managed to look questioning.
“In police custody,” Victory said. “He’s got his own set of bruises. I tackled him halfway across the street to get him off you. And Tristan and Lorus got to manhandle him a bit. Probably a bit more than necessary, but I wasn’t about to stop them.” She was nervous, so she rambled. And she was doing it in her head, too. Gods, she must be tired.
“Good. Love you.” At that, Mikelos drifted off, and his grip on Victory’s hand relaxed.
“I love you, too.” Victory placed a gentle hand over his heart to feel the steady, reassuring beat in his chest. The door to the hospital room opened, and she raised a hand to silence the visitor. Not that Mikelos would wake for anything at this point. She pecked a kiss on Mikelos’ lips before standing to greet the newcomer.
“How’s he doing?” Max said, his voice low.
“About as well as can be expected.” Victory gestured for the mercenary to join her on the other side of the room. She reclaimed her perch on the windowsill, and Max took a seat in the uncomfortable plastic chair she had been ignoring earlier. He was welcome to the hideous thing. “He didn’t ask about his violin.”
“He might not remember, and that’s probably a blessing,” Max said. “It’ll hit him pretty hard later, but now he needs to concentrate on healing.” He shifted in his seat, already uncomfortable, but he would never give in and move like she had. He was more stubborn.
“You’re right.” Victory rested her head against the cool glass and stared out across the empty hospital parking lot. “So what’s the news?”
“This guy who attacked Mikelos, Edward MacClellan, has been charged with assault and destruction of property,” Max said. “Unfortunately, no one can prove whether he intended to kill Mikelos, and MacClellan isn’t talking until he gets a lawyer.”
“Figures,” Victory said. “And I won’t be surprised if he gets one. How did the rest of the meeting go? Are Fabbri’s ideas restricted to her, or has she spread this nonsense?”
“Everything I’ve seen in the past few days says so. She’s just the most vocal. And being on the council might make her the de facto leader.”
“The vibe I’m getting isn’t so much that she wants more power,” Victory said, “but that she wants it out of our hands.” She spoke in general terms, speaking for all of the nonelected councilmembers. “She doesn’t seem fond of you, either. Even though you’re human. Well, mostly.”
“Mostly.” He traded smiles with her. “But it’s not surprising,” Max said. “Politically, we’re on your side.”
“But does she want the power to be in the hands of only those who have been elected to the council instead of appointed? Or does she want it only for humans?” Things weren’t making any sense. Maybe Fabbri was plain nuts. But an argument against the woman’s sanity based on whom she let in her restaurant wasn’t quite good enough.
Max studied Mikelos’ still form. “MacClellan implicated Fabbri in Mikelos’ attack. I think it’s safe to say she’s pro-human, not pro-elections. And when I left the station, the police were about to call the new owner of the Twilight Mists for questioning. This might be even bigger than we think.”
“It is bigger than we think,” Victory said. Another soft tap came from the half-open door where Daliana had appeared. Victory waved her in, and the elven woman ghosted across the floor to join them.
Max shifted to the side of his chair, and Daliana perched on the arm. “Ain’t this a regular party? What do you mean, hon?” Max asked.
Ignoring him, Daliana said, “How is he doing?”
“Okay,” Victory said. “He woke up enough to talk to the doctor, but then he conked out again. I thought you were finally heading home?”
“I took a quick consult in the ER for an elven patient,” she said. Her face was grave, and she hesitated before going on.
“Spit it out, girl,” Max said.
“Things are getting bad. Three more people have been brought into the emergency room within the past hour. Two werewolves and an elven girl,” she said. She shook her head in silent anger. “All beaten as badly as Mikelos. One of the wolves even more so, his back might be broken.” Daliana pulled a flier out of her pocket and smoothed it flat. She looked it over again before holding it up for them to see. “He had this.”
The crumpled paper had almost ripped in half. One corner had soaked in blood, now dried to a flaky brownish tint. A simple flier, with an advertisement for a meeting.
DATE: JUNE 27TH
TIME: 6:00 PM
PLACE: TWILIGHT MISTS
WHAT: INFORMAL TOWN HALL MEETING REGARDING THE STATE OF THE LIMANI CITY COUNCIL AND ITS MEMBERS. ALSO FEATURED WILL BE A Q&A SESSION REGARDING CURRENT PUBLIC POLICIES AND THEIR EFFECTS ON LIMANI CITIZENS.
SPONSORED BY: LIMANI HUMANISTS
REFRESHMENTS WILL BE PROVIDED!
“Okay,” Victory said. “That bad vibe went from worse to horrible.” The location of the meeting outraged her more than what it planned to discuss. When she’d sold the club after almost a century of ownership, she never expected it would be used like this.
“Damn.” Max took the flier and studied it. “Yeah, I’ll second that. This comes off as a civil gripe meeting, but if they’re already attacking people, this is going to get a lot worse before it gets better. Impeaching Fabbri and getting her off the council might not fix this.”
“We can’t assume these Humanists are directly responsible for the attacks,” Victory said. She hated to play devil’s advocate. Under normal circumstances, that would be Mikelos’ job, but right now he wasn’t in any position to do it. “These could be more punks operating on their own.”
“One can only hope,” Daliana said. She rose from her seat and began pacing the room.
The elven woman was one of the calmest people Victory knew, able to handle anything with finesse. She had never seen Daliana so worked up. Again, these weren’t normal circumstances. “Well, you said MacClellan was charged. Have they questioned Fabbri?”
“That’s the other problem,” Max said.
Daliana stopped pacing, and both women stared at the mercenary.
“She didn’t,” Victory said.
“She did.”
“Hell,” Victory said.
“Did what?” Daliana asked. “Explain. Or is this some sort of fighter code I’m not privy to?”
“She disappeared,” Victory said. “When?”
“We don’t know. We were busy controlling MacClellan,” Max said. “He tried to kick the glass out of the back window. You two left in the ambulance. By the time both vehicles were off, half the council had wandered back inside, and I figured she’d gone with them. Lena thought she was still outside with me.”
“Perfect.” Victory groaned in exasperation. “Is there going to be an arrest?”
“I asked the cops to stay on the lookout since MacClellan implicated her,” Max said, “but once he shut up, they decided there wasn’t enough evidence. Never mind that the whole council heard what she said to him.”
“So no arrest warrant?” Daliana said.
“Nope.”
“But you do believe that Fabbri set up the attacks?” The elven woman’s green eyes flashed in fury. Victory didn’t want to know what she’d seen in the ER to rouse her this much.
“Hell, yeah,” Max said. “MacClellan didn’t strike me as the type to be imaginative enough to pin this on anyone else. The bastard is proud of what he did.”
Victory resisted her immediate urge to go on the hunt. “So what do we do now?”
The three stared at each other. Max spoke up first. “I’d say it’s time to call a meeting.”
Toria learned in junior high geography class that the southern portion of Limani’s territory had the sparsest population. The reality had never sunk in until this walk home, the sunlight fading around her. Her head still ached, her feet felt like they were being stabbed by hot pokers, and the last time she’d had water was from a small stream at least five miles back.
She cut through woods to get from the road to the manor. Her spirits lifted when she saw her driveway. She felt moisture on her cheeks when the house came into view, and Toria raised her hands to her face.
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br /> She laughed, realizing that she was crying in relief. Exhaustion and dehydration were a dangerous combination. Only the gods knew where Kane and Asaron were now. But her parents would be home, and they would make everything better. A childish sentiment, but one Toria clung to while she entered the security code to open the back door. The Romans had even taken her keys.
“Mama!” Toria clutched the doorframe when air conditioned coolness washed over her. Dirt and grime coated her. She needed to dredge up the energy to shower before she could collapse.
No answer. “Dad!” She shut the door behind her, but still no one came running. Maybe they were out? The plan was for Max to tell Mama of their mission at the council meeting last night. They had no reason to expect them back this soon. But what kept Mama out late enough that she had to stay elsewhere for the day?
The kitchen wavered in front of her. With no way to contact her parents, there was no point in going back out and randomly searching. Driving in this condition would be suicide, so she dismissed that idea right off.
Max! Toria used the counter to pull herself over to the kitchen phone. She dialed his direct number at the Hall from memory. She didn’t care whether he’d be angry that she bypassed his aide.
The line rang for a bit. Then, “Hello, you’ve reached the office of Maximilian Asher. I’m not here right now, but you can leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.” A prompt beep followed his businesslike tone.
“Max! I had to walk home. Kane and Asaron got kidnapped by the Romans. They left me by the river and I don’t know where they are. I lost your horse, I’m so sorry.” She was rambling now, and crying, but couldn’t seem to stop. “I don’t know where Dad or Mama are, I don’t know what to do.” The phone cord stretched long when Toria slid down the wall into a heap on the floor. In a whisper, she repeated, “I don’t know what to do.”
Steel Victory (Steel Empire Book 1) Page 10
