by M. J. Scott
Simon threw an extra ward across the shattered window and we retreated to the kitchen. Lily made coffee and, praise God, took the trouble to add chicory. Maybe that would keep me upright a few more hours.
Simon passed me a mug and I was about to gulp a mouthful when I felt a brush of pressure across my shins.
I sighed, put down the cup, and bent to peer under the table.
Lily’s kitten stared up me and leaned harder into my leg.
“Do not claw my boots, catling,” I told her sternly.
She blinked, green eyes huge in a gray fluffy face.
“You might as well pick her up,” Lily said, entering through the other door to the room. “She’ll sit there until you do. And she’ll meow.”
I scooped up the kitten with one hand and deposited her onto my lap. She curled up into a ball practically smaller than my fist. “You’re not getting any of my coffee.” The kitten blinked again and commenced to purr at a volume far louder than such a small thing should be capable of.
“Rondel doesn’t drink coffee,” Lily said with a grin.
“Then explain why the damn thing feels the need to climb all over me every time I drink a cup?”
“Maybe she sees the softer you inside.”
I rolled my eyes. “If you wanted a cat who’s concerned with people’s softer sides, you shouldn’t have named her after a knife.” As if to emphasize my point, the kitten spread her claws and attempted to dig them through my trouser leg. Luckily I still wore riding leathers.
Lily’s grin widened. “It will remind people she has teeth and claws as she grows.”
I looked down at the kitten, mostly fluff and purr. “If you say so.” Lily had claws herself, even if she kept them mostly sheathed these days. “Tell me more about the Beast.”
“There’s not much too tell. We were in the sunroom, having breakfast. He came through the window.”
I glanced at the kitchen window, where the pale morning sun was just starting to climb over the tree. I didn’t think it was an accident that the attack had taken place after sunrise. Daylight was when Lily was at her weakest.
“You can’t stay here,” I said. No point beating around the bush.
“We’re not returning to the Brother House,” Simon said in a determined voice. “We’re safe here. We’re warded.”
“So well warded a Beast can come through your window?”
“The ward was down. I was going to move some plants around that wall later. He wouldn’t have gotten through otherwise.”
“So you assume. Or maybe they’re watching you and know when you do stupid things like drop your wards.”
“Doesn’t hiding us away make it seem as though we have something to hide?” Lily said. “I thought the idea was to make it look as though we’re just going on with our lives, like people with nothing to do with what happened to Lucius.”
“Obviously that ploy isn’t working.” Surely they weren’t going to play dumb? They had to know what was going on, as I did.
“You don’t know that. This could be revenge for someone I killed or general troublemaking,” Lily said.
“You’re not that naive,” I snapped. “This is serious.” My mind raced through the implications. If Simon and Lily were under attack, then that was another duty for Templars to handle. Another strain on our forces. And my loyalties.
My jaw tightened. I loved my brother and he’d done the right thing in killing Lucius, but the cost was proving high. If he and Lily were safe in the Brother House, it was one less thing to take my focus off keeping the City safe. I’d done what I could to make sure my parents’ home was well protected, and Saskia, oldest of our sisters, was safe enough behind the walls of the Guild of Metalmages. But Saskia and my parents weren’t likely to be direct targets. Nor was our youngest sister, Hannah, who was only fifteen.
Simon and Lily, on the other hand, were. And I’d be damned if I was going to lose another family member to the Night World. The Blood had taken Edwina from us. Her death had almost broken our family. Losing Simon would finish the job. “It would only be temporary,” I began.
“No,” Lily said immediately. Her voice was even steelier than Simon’s. “Not again. I’m not letting anyone control my life again.”
Beside her, Simon nodded. “I agree. We can’t hide every time there’s trouble in the City.”
“You won’t have to hide if you’re dead,” I said bluntly. Simon’s face stilled but he shook his head.
“No.”
“I’m not leaving you unprotected.”
“We’re not.”
“Hell’s fucking balls, Simon, this isn’t a game. Someone is trying to kill one of you. You need protection.”
“Then we’ll think of something else,” Simon said. “We’re not going.”
“You’ll—” I bit back the words before I could say something stupid. Picking a fight, as appealing as hitting something might be right now, was not going to solve the problem. I forced myself to take another swallow of coffee.
“How was patrol?” Lily asked, expression bland as she changed the subject. “Does anybody seem to be gaining the upper hand?” Her tone was casual, but I knew her interest in the answer wasn’t. She’d been enslaved by the last Lord of the Blood. She knew better than any of us what the consequences of the wrong person gaining control of the Blood Courts might be.
“Not that we’ve heard, but the mood out there is ugly. Most of our informants are clamming up.” I met her gaze. “Unless you can think of anyone who might talk to us?”
She shook her head, red braid bouncing. “No one’s going to talk to me. Unless it’s to try and torture information from me.”
“You must know some names?”
“Every Blood Lord and Beast Alpha has their own network of spies and informants. There are some who work for anyone who’ll pay, but they tend to guard their identities closely and work through intermediaries. And, if they work mainly in the Night World, they’re not going to want to risk talking to the Templars.”
Nothing I didn’t know. The Night World usually had plenty of people who’d be willing to snitch a little for some ready cash. But now, with things so chancy, snitching could be fatal. Most people, when faced with the choice of their money or their life, chose the latter.
Which meant we’d have to keep doing what we were doing. Riding into the border boroughs each night hampered by a lack of good information. Might as well ride out with one hand tied behind our backs. We couldn’t be sure where to target our efforts or who we should be keeping an eye on.
I drained my coffee and put the cup down, tapping its thin rim restlessly. I had the ultimate spy right in front of me. Lily was a wraith, able to turn incorporeal at will. Undetectable and untouchable. The sensible thing would be to put her to work.
So why hadn’t I?
Simon interrupted my thoughts with a refill, then leaned down to kiss Lily, who turned up her face, smiling at him.
And that was my answer, I thought, dropping my gaze to the kitten on my lap. Lily and Simon were happy now. They’d earned their happiness. They’d risked their lives to kill Lucius and end the biggest threat to the City’s peace we’d known.
I couldn’t ask Lily to put herself in danger, though I doubted she would refuse. The Night World had enslaved and used her all her life. She’d be more than willing to help us deliver a little justice to them.
But risking Lily meant risking Simon’s happiness. I couldn’t do that. Couldn’t destroy the life he was building. After all, I was already in danger most nights. There had to be someone who could carry on the DuCaine name if the worst came to the worst.
“Any ideas why the Favreaus might be getting involved?” I asked Lily.
“With Lucius gone, the packs will be going for either influence or money. An assassination attempt suggests the latter.”
I imagined that Lily’s head would fetch a pretty price.
“If he was a Favreau,” Lily added.
“We crossed p
aths with some others who looked like that one on patrol,” I admitted.
“Well, some packs have always been muscle for hire for the Blood,” Lily said.
“Not the Favreaus, though. They have other interests.”
“Historically. But right now I’d guess there’s more money to be made in fighting than gin. Who knows, it might even be some rogue youngsters, looking to break away.”
“That’s all we need.” Pack wars to add to all the general mayhem. Right now I’d give my right ball for someone who had a line on what the hell was going on in the Night World. I drained the last of the coffee and handed the kitten to Simon. I wasn’t in the mood for hours of arguing right now and I needed to report this latest unpleasant development to the Abbott General.
“This discussion isn’t over. We’ll talk when I get back.”
“Where are you going?” Simon asked.
“To talk to Father Cho. And to get someone to help you move the body.”
* * *
“I thought you’d be asleep,” Father Cho said, looking up from the map spread on his desk. His face was drawn, the lines etched into his skin making him look as tired as I felt.
“So did I, sir. But I still have things to do.” I stood politely at attention.
He gestured toward the chair beside me. “Sit.” He added, “Things?” after I did. He glanced at the map, scribbled a few notes on a paper beside it. I took that to mean “start talking.”
“I had breakfast with Simon and Lily.”
Father Cho’s hand stilled. He looked up, black eyes sharp. “How are they?”
“Better than the Beast they killed this morning, sir.”
Father Cho sighed. One hand lifted, rubbed the deep wrinkle between his eyebrows. Maybe his head ached too.
“Any particular reason they’re killing Beast Kind?” he asked.
“He tried to break into their house.”
“Why?”
“Hard to say. They didn’t exactly stop to question him.” I tried to keep the disapproval out of my tone but wasn’t sure I succeeded. Simon’s coffee churned uneasily in my empty stomach, warring with the fatigue and adrenaline stew.
The wrinkle deepened. “I see.”
I rolled my shoulders. “This is getting worse. We’re losing ground.”
“We’ll regain it.”
He sounded certain. In his position, he had to. But in my position, I had to tell him I thought he was wrong. “I hope you’re right, sir. But if things keep going the way they are now, I’m not so sure we will. Not without paying the price.”
“It’s getting that bad out there? We knew there would be unrest with the Blood having their . . . change of government.”
That was a tactful way of saying “after we assassinated their leader.” I was fairly sure I’d never be the Abbott General, because I didn’t like calling things pretty names. Death was death and no matter how much Lucius deserved it, the fact was that we humans had killed him. “The Blood have had squabbles before. They didn’t escalate to this level.”
“The death of their lord is somewhat beyond the level of a squabble.”
“Still.” I rolled my shoulders again, not sure what I was trying to say. “This is different.”
“Different, how exactly?”
“It feels like . . . more.”
“More?”
“Purposeful. These aren’t random fights breaking out.”
“You think they’re organized?”
“They’re not forming ranks and taking up arms. But they are organizing. We were ambushed tonight. By Beasts with the same coloring as the one sent to attack Lily and Simon. That’s not something I’m willing to write off as a coincidence. Things should be calming down now that everyone can see the Blood aren’t imploding. But they’re getting worse.”
“And why is that, do you think?”
That was the question that had been playing on my mind. “I’m not sure, sir. But, if I had to guess, I would say that someone is trying to stir up trouble. This close to the treaty negotiations, that makes me nervous. Especially when you add in a Beast attacking Simon and Lily.” Father Cho didn’t know the true secret of the value of Lily’s blood to a vampire—that drinking wraith blood gave them wraithlike powers, including the ability to shadow and pass unseen. Meaning they could go anywhere and get to anyone. But he knew Simon was a target.
Father Cho’s brown eyes were intent. “I have a healthy respect for your instincts, Guy. But what good does stirring up trouble do? It would take more than a few brawls to derail the negotiations.”
“A citywide riot might do it, though. Or someone doing something that breaks the treaty.”
“You think someone is trying to disrupt the negotiations? Or stop them?”
I nodded unhappily. “We both know there are factions within the Night World and the Veiled World who’d be happy with a return to the old ways, sir. And that wouldn’t be good.”
“I agree. But stopping it is difficult when we lack proof that anything is even happening. You said yourself it’s hard enough for us to work out where to patrol.”
“We need better information,” I said, half to myself. We were drifting off-topic. I was here to see to Simon and Lily’s safety. “People are at risk.” I leaned forward. Best to get my request over with. “Sir, I’m requesting—”
He cut me off with a gesture. “No.”
“No?”
“You were going to ask for protection for Simon and Lily, weren’t you?”
I nodded, jaw clenched.
“Then no. They are welcome, of course, to stay in here in the Brother House, but we can’t afford the men for a separate detail, Guy. You know that.”
“But—”
“I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I can’t treat your family any differently than anyone else’s.”
“Even though they—”
“Yes. I won’t say that killing Lucius wasn’t a good thing, but we’re paying the price now.”
“Due respect, sir, but Simon and Lily are a special case. They’re being specifically targeted. Whatever Lucius was doing, we haven’t seen the end of it. And whoever was working with him has to want Lily and Simon out of the way.” Or under their control. That was the alternative I didn’t want to let myself think about.
“I can’t disagree, Guy.” He spread his hands. “But I don’t have the men. Unless—”
“Sir?” I didn’t like the sudden speculative gleam in his eyes.
“You said it yourself, Guy. We need better information. If we had that, we could be more focused and I might be able to spare a detail. Lily is uniquely suited to—”
It was my turn to cut the conversation short. This was not the way I’d wanted this to go. “No,” I said flatly. “No. I’m not asking her to put her life on the line. She’s paid enough.”
“But you want us to put our lives on the line for her.”
“That’s what we do, sir.”
He looked grim. “I’m sorry. My decision stands. As long as we’re stretched so thin, I can’t spare anybody.”
“I see.” There was no point arguing. He’d made up his mind. Which left Lily and Simon exposed if I couldn’t convince them to move to the Brother House. Short of drugging them and dragging them here by force, I didn’t like my chances.
Hell’s balls. I couldn’t leave them at risk. I wouldn’t lose any more of my family to the Night World. Father Cho wanted information. I was going to find a way to get it.
Chapter Three
HOLLY
The familiar churn of emotion tightened my stomach when I stepped down from the hackney.
Breathe, Holly girl, I reminded myself as I smoothed my skirts and ran a hand over my hair. I looked like any respectable human girl. As far as the staff in the building in front of me knew, I was a respectable human girl.
The dutiful daughter visiting her mother.
That part was true.
I hoped they wouldn’t ever find out the rest of my
story.
The bell by the door made a genteel chime that had always made my teeth grit. It was answered promptly, as usual, and soon enough I was being ushered through to my mother’s room.
“How is she?” I asked before the nurse opened the door.
The nurse’s brown eyes were sympathetic. “About the same as usual, Miss Everton.” She pushed the door open and I took a deep breath before forcing my lips into a smile as I followed her into the room.
“Good morning, Mama,” I said.
My mother sat by the window, in a pretty pale green robe, staring out the window. She didn’t turn at my greeting. I hid the pang of hurt and continued on into the room, waving the nurse away.
I picked up the hairbrush from the tall chest of drawers that sat against the wall and crossed the room. “It’s a pretty day, isn’t it?” I said softly.
It was indeed. The chill of the night before had dissipated and the sky was blue, promising warmth, if not heat, later in the day. Still, as I watched my mother, I felt colder than I’d felt back on the rooftop in Seven Harbors.
Nothing new in that. I hated seeing my mother like this. Lost in her own world. Ruined and old before her time, thanks to the gin she’d turned to increasingly over the years. The sanatorium had managed to wean her from that habit, but they hadn’t been able to give me my young, beautiful mother back. No, instead, I had a shell, skin too lined and body too worn, housing a mind that had broken with reality quite some time ago. Occasionally my mother knew who I was, but apparently today wasn’t to be one of those times.
I hated it and I knew who was to blame, but for now I locked away the emotion and busied myself with brushing my mother’s hair. Still silver blond and long—I refused to let the sanatorium cut it—it was the one thing that still matched my memories.
As I brushed, I spoke quietly, telling my mother tales of the life “Miss Everton” supposedly led. A neat, respectable life, working for a modiste and renting a small flat in Bodwell, one of the human boroughs a few miles from Temple Heights where the sanatorium was located.
It was a pretty picture and sometimes I wished I really was that girl, working quietly in a world free from intrigue and violence.
