“Messenger,” he said. “I want you to tell the vampire Victory that the Roman Emperor has decreed an expansion to his colonial borders across the ocean. Since we have already expanded south to the Peninsula of Leon and west to the Wasteland, there is only one logical direction in which to go. And Limani stands in our way.”
Mama was right. The new kid ruling the Romans was an idiot. She couldn’t help it—the words came spilling out. “You do realize that on the other side of Limani are the British, right? And even if the Brits don’t give a shit about us, they’re really not going to appreciate you sitting right on their border?” Toria fixed him with an imitation of Max’s best imperious gaze, the one he used when she was up to her worst mischief.
Her head snapped to the side with the force of the stinging blow across her cheek. Too far, Toria. Time to shut up again.
“Be careful,” Octavian said. “You wouldn’t want me to take out my anger on your friends. Leave Kane with a few of my more degenerate officers. Forget to bring Asaron in come dawn.”
He brought his lips close to her own, and for a panicky breath, Toria thought he would kiss her. Molesting her through her clothes she could deal with, but a kiss might break the wall holding tears at bay.
But he stopped before contact. “Are you capable of delivering such a message? Or do I need to beat more sense into you?”
Clenching her teeth, Toria nodded. Maybe now he would let her go, leave her alone.
“Good,” Octavian said, a look of satisfaction on his sharp features. “Perhaps I won’t give Asaron the opportunity for that suntan after all.”
He sat back, pulling Toria’s wrists up with him. The relief that came with the sudden ability to take a real breath of air cost her the precious second she had to act. Octavian’s free arm pulled back, and Toria had time for one thought before his fist connected with her head.
Not again.
Slimy stuff dripped on her face. Kane had better not be playing another one of his crazy jokes on her. She hadn’t pranked him in ages, so she wasn’t currently owed any retaliation. Or did she? And what was wrong with her bed?
Toria opened her eyes, prepared to tell him off. But instead of Kane’s devious face, she met the chocolate-brown eye Greenstar aimed at her. A drooling Greenstar, which explained the wetness on her face.
Toria wiped off the gunk with the fabric on her shoulder. “Damn horse. At least you didn’t run off and leave me this time.” With caution, she probed for another headache. But aside from the familiar pain of a head blow—she hoped she didn’t have a concussion on top of everything else—and one small tap dancer doing a solo behind her left eye, there was nothing like the other night’s blinding agony. Octavian had a hell of a punch, but he hadn’t inflicted any more magical injuries on her.
Make that General Octavian. She didn’t know why the commander of an army was wandering Limani’s woods. Maybe he didn’t trust his own scouts. Maybe he was bored. This was not her current priority. Toria pushed herself up on her elbows. Greenstar wandered away to munch at the vegetation on the side of the path. She hoped the mare hadn’t gorged herself while she’d been out.
She started to check her watch, remembered the soldiers stole it days ago, and instead peered up into the sky. The sun had coasted over noon and almost dropped into evening while she was out. Another whole day wasted. She was surprised Greenstar hadn’t wandered home again.
Toria climbed to her feet and took stock of this new situation. The solo tap dance changed into a quartet. She looked for her sword and pistol, discarded when Octavian hauled her out of the saddle, but found nothing. Two lost swords in two days. That had to be a record.
To be fair, it was a nice saber. Mama said it was an antique.
But he’d left Greenstar alone, and Toria dug out a water bottle and another granola bar. Once again, she was in the same situation, despite the added benefits of still having a few of her supplies. Without weaponry, without her magic, her hopes of a grand rescue were dashed.
“Dammit,” she said. Greenstar flicked an ear toward her, but Toria ignored the horse.
Well, if Octavian wanted her to play messenger, it looked like her only real option. She would tell Victory what happened—or at least an edited version of it—and her mother would have to help with a rescue, now that Octavian threatened both Kane and Asaron with real harm.
She pulled herself into the saddle. “Let’s go home, Greenstar. Time to call the cavalry.” Toria snorted. She was still talking to her horse. She hoped the bastard hadn’t hit her harder than she thought. “Maybe this time they’ll answer.”
Toria didn’t bother riding back to the stables and picking up her town-car. It was a shorter trip to the manor house. After leaving Greenstar with her reins looped around the porch railing, Toria ran inside screaming.
“Mama! Mom!”
She pounded up the stairs to the third floor and burst into the suite of rooms Victory shared with Mikelos, giving a perfunctory knock on the double doors leading into the bedroom. Toria blinked in the dimness of the room shrouded with heavy drapes.
Her mother sat up in the large four-poster bed, a study in confusion surrounded by a tangled mass of hair. “What? Are you okay?” Victory switched on the bedside lamp. “You’ve been out.”
Her jeans were caked with mud after the tussle with Octavian, but that wasn’t important right now. After catching her breath, the words rushed out. “The Romans are invading.”
“Right now?”
“No, but they’re definitely planning on it.”
Victory rubbed the palms of her hands over her face. “Okay, love. Go get changed, let me get dressed, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen. Then we’ll talk.”
“Okay,” Toria said before heading back down to her old room on the second floor. She knew not to feel put off. Unless a life was in immediate danger, Victory took a few minutes to become a rational thinker upon waking.
After throwing on clean clothes, she washed the grime off her face in the bathroom shared with Kane’s old room. She could still feel Octavian’s hands on her, could still see the scratches his nails left in her wrists. She felt in desperate need of a shower, but there wasn’t time. In the mirror, the side of her face had swelled and begun to blossom spectacular shades of purple.
Toria beat Victory to the kitchen, and started the coffee machine. Victory strolled in a few minutes later, dressed in a bathrobe and hair pulled back. She settled herself at the kitchen table while Toria exorcised her nervous energy preparing their coffee.
When she held a steaming mug in front of her, Victory took a long sip before looking up at Toria. “Okay. Sit down and tell me what I’m pretty sure I already know you did. Then convince me why I shouldn’t be incredibly angry with you right now.”
Toria placed her own mug on the table and sank into her chair. “I went to rescue Kane and Asaron since I couldn’t get any help.”
“Yes, that I figured out already,” Victory said, her tone dry. “Skip to the part where you tangled with the Romans.”
“One Roman,” Toria said. The rest of the story took a short time to tell. Looking back, Toria realized she had been in Octavian’s grip for less than five minutes. It felt much, much longer. “So we’re pretty much screwed, huh?”
Victory wrapped her hands around her mug. She looked down into her cup and didn’t speak.
Oh boy. Even if Limani wasn’t screwed, Toria was. It took a lot to make Victory angry, but Toria had managed it more than once in her life. And she knew how to recognize the calm before the storm.
Releasing the coffee mug, Victory placed her hands flat on the table. She leveled her steady gaze on her daughter. Toria met her eyes, but the prickle at the back of her neck screaming Prey! under a vampire’s stare forced her to look away.
“Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re
going to go take care of that poor horse. You’re going to go get a shower and clean yourself up. By—” Victory noted the time on the microwave clock. “—seven, you’ll go to the hospital and keep your father company for a few hours. At sundown, Max and Sethri are picking me up. You are not coming with us or following us. You’re not even going to think about coming with us or following us. And I hope to gods you haven’t screwed up what we’re trying to do to save the city.”
With that last admonishment ringing in Toria’s ears, Victory stood from the table, deposited her empty mug in the sink, and left the kitchen. Toria could do nothing more than stare after her. She’d just been told to run to Daddy like a good little girl and leave the grown-up stuff to the adults.
She wanted to go after her mother and scream at her. Scream that while they played around with diplomatic nonsense, Kane and Asaron could be killed. Remind Victory what Octavian threatened to do. Point out what Octavian could have done to her.
But all at once, her anger deflated. She sagged in her seat, taking a deep breath to regain a bit of equilibrium.
Victory’s daywalker was in the hospital. Her sire and adopted son had been kidnapped. And her daughter was being an idiot of the biggest sort. Toria was lucky she hadn’t been locked in her room like a child.
That shower sounded good, just the thing she needed to wash the memory of Octavian’s hands off her. Then she would go visit Dad. And she would wait for this diplomatic mission to come back before she tried anything else.
Just because she couldn’t go with them now didn’t mean she wouldn’t have plans ready to go into action when they got back.
“I do not know what to do with that girl.”
Victory paced in the large bathroom off her suite of rooms, phone clutched in her hand like a lifeline. She’d meant to get a shower, but she needed to talk things over with Mikelos before Toria showed up at the hospital. Maybe he could talk sense into his wayward daughter if she wouldn’t listen to her own mother, the one with centuries’ worth of experience. She pulled her robe tighter around her, shaking in a combination of anger and—fear? Yes, fear, for what could have happened to her beloved girl. The twit.
“It’s okay, love.” Mikelos still sounded tired, but much better than the day before. “Send her over, and I’ll keep her occupied until you leave. And probably give her a piece of my own mind, but that’s beside the point.”
“Toria’s a smart girl. What the hell was she thinking, staging a rescue on her own? She could have gotten killed!” Victory sank down on the edge of the bathtub. “She’s already cursed!”
“And how rational are you when I’m in danger?” True to form, her daywalker was the voice of reason. “Toria loves her grandpa. And Kane is even more a part of her than I am of you,” Mikelos said. “How can you fault her for doing everything in her power to get them back?”
“I can’t fault that,” Victory said. “But I can fault her for being an idiot about it.”
“Then go tonight,” Mikelos said. “Find out what’s going on. And when you figure out what to do about it, make Toria a part of the plans. She’s already accomplished this much. You’re going into this tonight with the knowledge that the Romans definitely want the city. You have to give her credit for that.”
“But that doesn’t mean I have to like her methods.”
“No, her methods need work,” Mikelos said. “But that’s the type of thing that comes with time. For all the power and knowledge she has, she’s still a kid. I almost don’t want to think of the mayhem Kane and Asaron have put the Romans through in the past two days. You know they can’t be quiet hostages.”
A small spark of cheer entered Victory’s heart. “You’re right. Maybe this Octavian will hand them back as not worth the effort when we show up tonight.”
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed.” Muffled voices came from Mikelos’ end of the phone, and when he spoke again, he said, “I have to go, the nurse is being adamant about dinner. Thinks I’m too skinny. I’ll expect Toria by seven?”
“Yes,” Victory said. “She has to return that horse, and then she’ll drive to the hospital. If she’s not there by seven-thirty, send out the search parties.”
“And I won’t let her out of my sight until after sundown. Promise,” Mikelos said. “I love you. Take care tonight. Don’t let Max do anything stupid.”
“I love you, too,” Victory said. “And I’ll see you soon.”
She turned off the phone and let it dangle in her hands, staring down at the tiled floor. Max was due to pick her up soon after sundown.
Switching the phone back on, she dialed Max’s personal line. “Max? It’s Victory. Get everyone over here. We have more problems.”
Victory pushed open the library’s last window and paused to inhale a deep breath of fresh air. The one room in the manor house big enough to hold them all still felt unbearable when they all started yelling at each other.
Steeling herself, she confronted the room again. “You were wise to take this spot, Sethri,” she said to the lone figure in this back corner. “I’m inclined to stay out of this group’s way myself.”
The human head of Limani’s council patted the hand she placed on the back of the oversized armchair. He had claimed the room’s far corner upon realizing this informal meeting consisted of unelected councilmembers. “I’m making sure I retain a little plausible deniability. Max never warned me what I was walking into when he picked me up.”
“I should confess, then, that I’m the one who called this meeting,” Victory said.
“Then go, give them your rational voice,” Sethri said. “They need it.”
After slipping between the bookshelf-lined wall and couch holding Lena, Daliana, and Genevieve, Victory retook her seat. She perched on the edge of her desk next to Max, trying to imitate his stony calm.
“We no longer have the option of wasting time.” While Victory had opened the windows, Tristan left his own chair and now stood before the group, fists balled at his side. “We need to find Fabbri and take her out, get rid of that problem. Then we need to call up the Mercenary Guild forces and march on the Romans.”
Bethany laughed, harsh and unamused. She’d shown up with Lorus again. “Isn’t that what I’ve been saying the whole time? Now the pup listens.”
Lorus hissed low in his throat. “I didn’t bring you here to instigate foolishness, woman. But Tristan, that’s still the worst plan we could have.”
Tristan snarled back. “I didn’t hear you come up with anything better, snake.”
Victory realized the werewolf’s eyes had changed from chocolate brown to the lighter caramel of his wolf-form. When Lorus made to rise, it was time to step in. “Gentlemen!” Her cutting voice drew both glares. She stared down Tristan, and after he looked away, Lorus. Humans might be a vampire’s chosen prey, but blood was blood. Sethri was right, it was time to assert control. When it came down to it, she was the stronger predator, and they would bow to her dominant will.
Lowering her voice, Victory spoke again. “Gentlemen. This is not the time to charge ahead with ill-thought-out plans. Lorus, do you have a better suggestion?”
With an almost imperceptible movement, Lorus shook his head.
Victory transferred her stare to the other aggressor. “Tristan?”
He also remained silent, but did sit down again. She would take that much.
And last, to head off future antagonism. “Bethany?”
The werebadger looked startled to be called upon. Not moving from her slump on the second couch next to Lorus, she said, “What do I know? Not all of us have your fancy military training.”
That wasn’t an argument she wanted to have right now. To Victory’s relief, Max took over.
“And I’m sorry to say, but that’s what it’s come down to. A military operation. We can’t dick around
with the Romans like we can with the Humanists. The Humanists might be violent, but even they don’t want Limani wiped off the face of the planet.” He picked a glass paperweight off Victory’s desk, spinning it between his fingers. “Based on Toria Connor’s report,” Max said, “the Romans might not have such compunctions.”
Victory plucked the paperweight from Max’s hand and set it on the desk. “From the threats Toria said were directed toward their prisoners, I would hesitate to believe any of us are safe when the Romans invade.”
“‘When?’ What’s this ‘when’ stuff?” Bethany sat up straight. “You haven’t even talked to the Romans yet. Your daughter went against your wishes when she was attacked. How do we know she didn’t make that up to get us to do what she wanted?”
“Get a clue, old woman.” Genevieve saved Victory from the need to argue.
“The girl might be impetuous,” Lena said, “but she’s not manipulative. And again, military training plays into this—”
Max finished Lena’s argument. “Toria knows reporting the truth is imperative under these circumstances. Lying, or even exaggerating, provides false information that could lead to unnecessary deaths.”
“There, we are agreed that Toria is not lying,” Daliana said. “A Roman invasion is imminent. We have also agreed that attacking first is a bad idea. Why?”
“How strong a force can we call up on short notice, Max?” Victory said.
He stared into space, then stole a blank paper from Victory’s desk. “Can we count on you and Toria?”
Victory handed him a pen. She, of course. But Toria? Operating under the assumed immortality of youth, her daughter would never forgive her if left out of the action. Praying she wouldn’t regret it later, Victory said, “Yes.”
Steel Victory (Steel Empire Book 1) Page 17
