Blood Kin: A Novel of the Half-Light City

by M. J. Scott

  “Do we have an understanding?” He shoved the necklace into his pocket, then carefully smoothed down the lines of his frock coat.

  I nodded. There wasn’t anything else I could do. My bastard father had the upper hand. But as I watched him turn and leave, I was determined that he wouldn’t keep it for long.

  Chapter Thirteen

  GUY

  “Ignatius Grey?” I demanded as Holly slipped through the door of the box. “Are you insane?”

  She scowled, eyes sparking green as the jewels in her ears. “Keep your voice down. People will hear.”

  We were still well to the rear of the box, so I didn’t know if that was a valid point, but she had been to the theater more than I, so I reluctantly let her go. I pointed at the nearest seat, forcing my voice to a more loverlike tone. “Won’t you have a seat, darling?”

  Holly sat facing the stage. Her eyes glittered in the dim light. I stopped for a moment. Tears? No. She wasn’t crying. Her face was pale under the paint, her mouth set. Angry.

  That made two of us.

  “Ignatius Grey?” I repeated, lowering myself into the chair opposite and angling my body toward her as though we were having an intimate tête-à-tête.

  Those glittering eyes fastened on me. “Yes. This is what I do, Guy.” Her fan snapped open, then closed again, her gloved hands moving restlessly over the carved sticks.

  “I thought you crawled around on rooftops, spying on people.”

  “Sometimes the information isn’t on rooftops. Sometimes it’s at the theater. Or the Assemblies. Which means I have to be there.”

  “In Blood Assemblies.” I heard my voice go flat. I tried to rein back the temper rising within. Of all the places . . . an Assembly. I loathed them and everyone who willingly attended them.

  But everything Holly said was true. She was a spy. A professional. Good enough for Blood Lords to hire her. She knew what she was doing. And I’d known we might have to venture into the Night World when I’d started this. So why was I fighting the urge to punch someone at the thought of her parading through a Blood Assembly?

  I hated the Assemblies, that was true, but this wasn’t that feeling. This felt different. Sharper somehow.

  “When the situation requires it, yes,” Holly said, still tapping her fan restlessly. “I’ve done it before. It’s safe enough.”

  I tried not to think about the last time I’d been in a Blood Assembly. Because that had involved a riot, killing a few Beasts, and Simon kidnapping Lily. Hardly a recommendation for the safety of such places. “You have an interesting definition of safe.”

  “I’m not an idiot, Guy,” she snapped. “This is how I make my living. I’m not going there to drink vampire blood or get myself chewed on.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “You don’t see any scars on my neck, do you?”

  “No.” I’d kissed that neck . . . that skin. I knew it bore no scars.

  Anger flared again. Hotly possessive.

  Hell’s balls. No. I reined myself in with a heavy mental hand.

  Holly was not mine.

  I didn’t want the ties such emotions brought.

  But I did want her.

  That much was clear. Inescapably clear. Much as I’d have to be blind not to know she wanted me too. I’d felt it in the tiny reactions of her skin under my lips, in the catch of breath. In the heat of her eyes.

  She was a spy, yes. A game player. But whatever it was flaring between us, it wasn’t a game.

  I needed to resist it.

  Of course, given her current mood, if I tried anything, I would suffer something worse than a refusal. I didn’t doubt she had weapons somewhere on her person or that she knew how to use them. She was a fighter. A survivor. She would do what she had to do. I needed to remember that that might not be the same as what I wanted her to do.

  Hells, I needed to remember that she might just turn me down regardless of what mood she was in. Perhaps she still had a grip on her common sense. She was practical, I knew that much.

  But I still couldn’t quite help looking at the slim column of white throat, rising from the silk, framed by the chain that arrowed down to where her breasts rose from the dress in smooth curves and disappeared below the ruffles as if its sole purpose was to draw the eye there. To her skin. Warm, that skin. My hands remembered. And it smelled of . . . well, Holly and flowers and something subtle that seemed to seep into my brain whenever I got near her. It tasted good too.

  Too good.

  Hell’s balls, what was I doing thinking about kissing her when we were talking about the stupidity of going to an Assembly?

  Another yank on those mental reins was required.

  I studied her. Her fan swished angrily, like a cat’s tail. She hadn’t been angry when we’d parted outside Adeline Louis’ box. No, then she’d been almost too well pleased with herself.

  And yet by the time she returned to me, she’d been angry.

  So what had happened in between?

  “Why are you angry?” I asked.

  The fan stilled. “Why are you arguing with me?”

  Deflecting a question with a question, I knew that technique all too well.

  “Something happened,” I said flatly. “Before you came back here.”

  She was very good. The fan snapped back into action with a dismissive flutter. But not before I saw the small flash of surprise in her eyes. I was right.

  “Nothing happened,” she said.

  “You’re lying.”

  “You’re still arguing. Nothing happened, Guy.”

  “We can’t do this if you’re going to lie to me.”

  “I’m not lying.” Another flutter of the fan. “It was nothing.” She looked at me, then away.

  “It?”

  She bit her lip. “If you must know, I ran into someone.”

  “Who?”

  Her eyes came back to me. “If you must know, someone I once . . . kept company with.”

  Shared her bed with, she meant. I felt another hot surge of anger. “And?”

  “And he was unpleasant about you,” she said. “I sent him on his way. As I said, it was nothing. Or rather, it’s something that can work for us. He’ll no doubt be talking about me.”

  I wasn’t sure if I believed her. Even if I did, I wasn’t sure that I should believe her. She had her own agenda here; I needed to remember that. I wanted something from her and I believed that she would hold to her end of her agreement, but I’d be a fool to think that her only priority was finding her mother and her friend.

  Silence hung between us. I could push her, but I doubted she’d give away anything she didn’t want to. I’d only make her angrier. More likely to do something reckless.

  So I would hold my tongue. Bide my time. For now. “Your Lady Adeline is concerned about Ignatius Grey. He’s bad news. Particularly if he’s gotten his hands on some money,” I said, trying to return to the topic at hand.

  Exasperation flashed over Holly’s face before she restored her tight social smile. “I’m well aware of that. I imagine I have a far better understanding of Ignatius and his particular peccadilloes than you do.”

  “If you did, you wouldn’t—”

  “Wouldn’t what? Go near him?” She leaned closer, smile tightening further. “I’m a spy. And a thief. I’m not some delicate little flower that you have to protect, Guy. I can handle myself. The question seems to be whether you can cope with what we’re doing. If you’re going to start throwing your weight around whenever we come across a Blood Lord or a Beast or the Fae, then we might as well give up now.”

  The words were almost a slap. And stopped me short. I drew in a breath, ignoring the scent of her that drifted with it. “I can behave myself if you can.”

  I certainly wasn’t going to let her do this alone. Maybe she had done these things before, but now she had me. I looked down at my hands, at the beasts snarling there. Just because I bore them didn’t mean I had to become them. I’d agreed to go along with the plan. I’d defaced my
tattoos, for the love of all that was holy. I needed the information she could uncover. I wouldn’t abandon the path—or Holly—now.

  Even if I did want to shake her until her teeth rattled.

  “Good.” She turned away from me slightly, flicking a curl that had fallen over her shoulder. “Let’s watch the show.”

  I changed seats, moving beside her. We had to keep up the pretence. And more than that, I needed to be closer to her. The tension riding me wasn’t just the knowledge that half the people in the theater were Blood or Beasts, setting off every instinct I possessed. No, part of it was just being close to her.

  I wanted her. Wanted to peel that dress from her and lay her down and take her until we both forgot who we were and what we were doing.

  You couldn’t fake actual desire. You could resist it and I knew that she, just like me, was resisting mightily, but you couldn’t conjure the spark from nothingness. You couldn’t make the air prickle when someone else walked into the room.

  It was either there or not.

  And, because God apparently had a nasty sense of humor right now, it was there between us.

  The question was whether we could both keep our heads and resist.

  It would be good between us. It had been a long time since I’d allowed myself the distraction of giving in to this kind of hunger. We didn’t swear celibacy, but my life was simpler without sex.

  My Brother knights chose their own paths. Some largely ignored women, some found women willing to satisfy their hungers. Some even fell in love and married as the Church would prefer.

  Love. I didn’t even want to think the word.

  Because there was no place in my world for that emotion when it came to a woman.

  It came at too high a cost.

  But I was used to guarding myself. Planning liaisons as carefully as I planned campaigns in battle. I wasn’t going to let her slip through my defenses. I was going to stay in control.

  Take charge.

  Starting right now.

  And the first thing any good soldier did when taking charge of a campaign was to get the lay of the land.

  In my case, that meant understanding the woman sitting beside me, looking as though she was listening happily to the shaky soprano currently gracing the stage.

  But she wasn’t just listening. No. Her eyes studied the crowd, searching it.

  Spy. Thief. What did she see with those eyes? What did she see when she looked at me?

  I leaned closer, felt her jump in surprise. “Looking for someone in particular?” I said, mouth close to her ear.

  “N-no.”

  Another lie. “I can’t help you if I’m walking blind, Holly. You want me to understand this world.” I gestured at the audience. “Time for another lesson.”

  She looked somewhat chastened. “I’m sorry. I forgot. I usually work alone.” She offered a quick smile. A real one this time.

  “And I usually work with fifty other men. I can adjust if you can.”

  The corner of her mouth quirked. “I’m not sure I can replace fifty Templars.”

  “You don’t have to. Who are you looking for?”

  She looked down, smoothed her skirt where it wasn’t wrinkled. “No one in particular.”

  Lying again. All right. I knew when to hold position rather than attack. “Then what?”

  She looked back up. “I was just watching the dance.”

  “The dance?”

  “I told you earlier. The Night World isn’t simple. Everything shifts and moves and turns in an instant. It’s a dance, only you’re never quite sure what song might play next or if there’s a new set of steps everyone else but you knows.”

  “Battles are that way too,” I said.

  “I guess.” She shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve never seen a battle.”

  “They’re unpredictable.” And violent, bloody, and horrible. So perhaps a good metaphor for Night World politics after all.

  “So maybe I can follow your dance. I might even let you lead.” I grinned at her and she relaxed, a little. “Good. How about you smile at me while we talk? After all, we don’t want to disappoint our audience.”

  “I’ll smile if you will.” She grinned at me and then lifted the fan to her face. The air stirred the curls around her face and she brushed them back into place with her free hand. The movement settled her dress even lower on her chest, baring more of the curve of her breast to my view. My mouth went dry. I knew she was acting, but the effect was very real.

  Keep your mind on the task at hand. I summoned an answering smile. “Seems fair.”

  Holly angled her body toward me so that her skirts brushed my knees. “So. The dance.” The fan was still for a moment as she looked out over the theater.

  “What do you know of the Favreaus?” she asked.

  Right this minute, I chiefly knew that she smelled very good and that her skin almost gleamed in the half-light. Favreaus, Guy. Beast Kind. Ambushes.

  I took a breath. “Mostly what you told me this afternoon. Not known to cause trouble. Kept their noses reasonably clean until Lucius died.”

  “Was killed, if you believe the rumors,” Holly murmured.

  I paused. Was she digging for information? Or just commenting. She wasn’t the only one with secrets, after all.

  “Died. Since then the Blood have been trying to determine who might take his place. Which also leaves the Beast Kind packs scrambling for territory and position.”

  “That’s a polite way of saying the entire Night World is tallying up quite the body count.”

  I smiled. “Darlin’, a gentleman always strives for politeness.”

  “Are you a gentleman, then?”

  “My mother would like to believe so.”

  The fan dropped, revealing her wide smile. “Well, I have heard that knights are meant to be chivalrous.”

  “There is that,” I agreed. “But we were talking about the Night World, not me.”

  “We were.” She sighed. “A pity, really.” She slanted a glance at me with those very green eyes that made me wonder exactly what she meant. But I wasn’t about to ask.

  “You’ll have noticed that Christophe Favreau’s box still has no sign of Christophe himself,” Holly continued.

  I nodded. That much I had taken in while I’d been waiting for Holly to return.

  “There is a Favreau here, though. In the box across from us. There are a number of Beasts. Do you see?” She waved her fan idly and smiled, as though we were discussing the weather.

  I found the box she meant and the man. Light brown hair neatly tied back in a queue and pale eyes. Too far to see if they were gray without Holly’s opera glasses. His head was bent toward the blond man sitting beside him, discussing something with an intent expression. “Which one is he?” I asked.

  “That’s Henri. He’s a guerrier, though a low-ranked one.”

  “If he’s a guerrier, why is he here when his alpha isn’t?” Guerriers were the pack warriors. And most often, their job was to guard the alpha.

  “A good question,” Holly said. “He may merely have the night off.”

  “Do guerriers get nights off?”

  “Do Templars?” She arched a brow at me.

  We did. Though in the current unrest, time off had been scarce.

  “So you think he’s just out on the town?”

  “Maybe. Though he keeps interesting company. That’s Antoine Delacroix he’s with.”

  I knew that name . . . though I couldn’t quite remember why. The Delacroix pack was another that had been closely allied to Lord Lucius. Though, if I remembered rightly, Christophe Favreau and Paul Delacroix didn’t much like each other. “And Antoine is?”

  “A troubled young man,” Holly said. “Very much out of favor with his pack right now. He narrowly avoided being cast out a while back. His father is a senior guerrier, which may have saved him.”

  I turned my attention back to the two men. True, the younger Beasts did sometimes ignore pack boundaries wh
ile out carousing, but would a Favreau guerrier usually hang around with a member of another pack who was in disgrace? The packs didn’t poach from each other. A cast-out Beast would find no home with another clan. As I watched, the singer onstage reached a crescendo, and a wave of applause echoed around the theater. Henri raised his head and our eyes met. His brows drew down before his face smoothed and he moved his gaze away.

  I made myself focus back on the stage, trying to look interested in the caterwauling of the soprano. Something about Henri set my teeth on edge. But this wasn’t the place to try and discuss how we might learn more about him. That could wait until we were somewhere more private.

  “So, do the Favreaus support anyone in particular? Do they have a favorite candidate for Blood Lord?” I asked. The soprano hit one last high note and the crowd broke into more rapturous applause. Holly clapped politely and I followed her example. The orchestra struck up again and a group of acrobats tumbled onto the stage.

  “No. Not that I’ve heard. They gained a lot under Lucius. I’d think they’d be looking to support someone who wanted to keep the status quo. One of Lucius’ lieutenants.”

  “Like Ignatius Grey?”

  Her face went carefully blank. “Ignatius was one of Lucius’ circle, yes. But Christophe doesn’t like him.”

  “Can he afford to dislike Ignatius? From all I’ve heard, Grey is doing well for himself. And he’s captured your Lady Adeline’s attention, it seems.”

  I had heard a little of Lucius’ court from Lily. She didn’t like to talk about him and I’d only managed to coax information out of her a few times. Ignatius’ name had come up more than once. Lily despised him. She’d once said he was as vicious as Lucius but not nearly as clever. Not someone you wanted in control of the Blood. It took an iron fist and a keen mind to hold the Blood Court together.

  Holly shrugged. “As Adeline said, Ignatius bears watching. And any smart alpha will be hedging his bets right now.”