The guard’s eyes widened, and he looked closely at me before pushing my hood back. I winced as the rain started falling in my face but was gratified to hear him say, “If it isn’t the quetzal. We were told to keep our eyes out for you.” He turned and waved to a figure in the sky above. A large black bird fluttered to the ground and tilted its head, waiting. “Go tell Taro we have the quetzal,” the guard told it.
Without even taking the time to return to human form and reply, the shapeshifter shot into the sky and continued to the north. If only I had strong wings like that, I could have skipped this entire misadventure! Instead, I was deliriously grateful that I would soon be home.
“Are you all right?” the guard asked me.
I nodded and stepped out of the alley as the guard beckoned. I was exhausted and sore, and my heart still hadn’t resumed a calm rate, but I was uninjured.
Around me the market was bustling with more people than I had ever imagined. They were set up in stalls and tents or just spread out on carpets with lean-to shelters keeping themselves and their wares dry. Most people weren’t shouting, but the sheer number of them speaking at once gave the noise the power of a wave.
The merchandise I could see included brightly colored and shiny things that dazzled my eyes. Tapestries, jewelry, ceramics, fruit, jars and packages and boxes labeled with writing I couldn’t read … there was so much here all at once. It was overwhelming.
Malachi exited the alley, which brought him closer to me and earned him a warning glance from the guard. “How did you get involved?”
“I found the kid lost in the woods,” Malachi answered. “He said he wanted to go back to Taro, so I brought him here.”
I shifted in place, struggling to keep warm now that I was no longer flushed with panic, and the guard’s attention moved to me. The expression on his face softened. “Poor kid, you must be freezing. Here.” He stripped off his own cloak, a thick piece with smooth leather on the outside and fur inside, and draped it over me. It was so heavy and long that I stooped under its weight, but I instantly felt warmer.
“Don’t you need it?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I grew up wandering the Shantel forests,” he answered. “I’m used to the cold.”
“Shantel?” I asked.
“The third great magical civilization,” Malachi chimed in bitterly. “The Shantel are leopard and mountain-lion shapeshifters. Some of their witches are as powerful as the shm’Ahnmik or Azteka.” The names made my head spin. I knew witches existed, but I had never realized there were so many different kinds. Malachi continued. “Even Shantel without magic are brilliant warriors, hunters, trackers, or craftsmen. Except for a few, of course. The traitors who decide it would be easier to come out of the forest and work for Midnight.”
“You’re an odd person to call me a traitor,” the guard replied blandly. He brushed my hair back out of my face and then twitched my hood up, covering my head and trapping out the cold.
“It is hard to learn loyalty in a cell,” Malachi answered.
“Look, kid,” the guard said, ignoring Malachi to speak to me. “I made my choice to take this job, for my own reasons. I know your story, but most of the ’shifters who are not already allied with Midnight do not. They will assume you’re a traitor, just like I am. Don’t let them catch you alone anywhere you might conveniently disappear. Okay?”
Given the number of people who had already threatened me since I left the greenhouse, the warning seemed very clear.
“Vance, I’m sorry,” Malachi said. “You’re right. I am a hypocrite, and a coward. But I am trying to do the right thing by you.”
“You don’t know me.” If the only thing I represented to this man was danger, why hadn’t he just killed me in the woods, or left me to freeze to death on my own? Why had he risked taking me so close to the market? Why, if he was sure the serpiente would have killed me, hadn’t he run and left me with them?
Malachi didn’t seem interested in explaining, but he stayed nearby as the guard and I waited and watched the sun go down. Merchants diligently covered and packed up their possessions, some simply shutting their stalls and others loading wagons. Many cast sidelong glances at us as they worked, but they didn’t say a word. Most were gone before Taro appeared.
My guardian greeted me with a warm smile, nodded an acknowledgment to the guard who had lingered nearby to keep an eye on me, and then turned to Malachi.
“Malachi Obsidian, you surprise me,” Taro said. “I hadn’t thought I would see you again so soon.”
Malachi tensed and said, “I just can’t seem to keep myself away.”
“As long as Vance is safe, that’s what matters,” Taro said. “What are you asking for him?”
Malachi appeared cautious. “Since when do you offer to buy something that’s already yours?”
“You misunderstand me. I’m offering a reward for his safe return.”
“I have no claim to him,” Malachi said carefully, as though he was worried he might say something wrong. “I just helped him do what he wanted to do.”
“Very well, then. Enjoy your evening.”
“At least I’ll be more relaxed when I’m not traveling with a miniature volcano,” Malachi said, clearly relieved now. “I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that you wouldn’t be afraid to keep an untrained bloodwitch on hand, but I’ll sleep better without him. When he accidentally burns down Brina’s greenhouse, I’m going to have a party.”
Without another word he shifted into his falcon form and flew away, leaving me alone with Taro.
“What did he mean, miniature volcano?” I asked, hurt.
“Malachi Obsidian is a trifle mad. You shouldn’t take anything he has said to you too seriously.” Still, Taro sounded worried. “I’m glad he had the sense to keep you away from the pochteca while you were here.”
“He brought me to the pochteca,” I said. At Taro’s startled look I opened my mouth to describe all the things Malachi had said, and how he had insisted on taking me to the pochteca and even suggested that they could take me away. What came out was, “Before I mentioned that I wanted to go back to you, I mean.”
I clapped my mouth shut. Why had that lie, the one Malachi had asked me to tell, come to my lips instead of every defense I had intended? I didn’t want Taro to think I had run away intentionally, or that I had ever considered leaving with my parents’ people. That was all Malachi’s idea.
“And what did the traders say to you?” Taro asked coolly.
I tried to recall so that I could answer honestly. “She seemed sad for me, because I had been separated from my mother and father. Do I really have magic?”
“You should. I haven’t seen it manifest, but many powers only reach full strength in adulthood.” He still sounded distant.
I wanted to complain about how Malachi had threatened me and said all sorts of horrible things about Midnight, but all I could bring myself to say was, “Malachi doesn’t like Lady Brina, or Mistress Jeshickah. I was scared he might not help me if he knew I didn’t think the same way.”
“Wise,” Taro said, some of the tension leaving his body, while the same amount entered mine.
Malachi bewitched me! He hadn’t been asking for a favor. He had been placing some kind of spell on me. He had even apologized afterward for “messing with my mind,” though I hadn’t known what he was talking about at the time.
“You must be tired,” Taro said, his voice finally gentle once again. “If you want, you can change into your quetzal form and sleep while I carry you home.”
It sounded like a nice suggestion, though part of me worried that he was offering to carry me because he thought I might run away again. I returned the guard’s cloak with many thanks and then changed shape. Taro let me snuggle inside his cloak, where it was warm and I could tuck my head down and rest. The adventure of the last days had left me exhausted. When I finally got back to it, I wasn’t sure I would ever want to leave my own safe bed again.
I had
strange dreams while we traveled, and even stranger ones once Taro tucked me into bed. We weren’t back at my home but somewhere Taro said was closer; it didn’t matter, since there were dry clothes and warm soup and a large bed covered with a down-filled blanket.
I dreamed that I was watching Malachi dance. The movement was hypnotic. I tried, but I couldn’t look away, even when he stopped and my gaze met his.
All I saw then were his sea-green and mist-blue eyes.
“Vance, there’s something …”
His voice faded as a red wave swept between us, drowning those swirling eyes in a rush of heat and darkness. He surfaced several seconds later, but I had missed part of his message.
“… you need to understand,” he implored. “Vance, can you hear me? I can’t …”
The world swirled again, the wave flowing by, backed by a deep, echoing bang like thunder. When it cleared I saw desperation in Malachi’s eyes.
“No matter what happens, please remember that I am trying to set you free,” he said. “Survive. Don’t give up. I will be—”
Silence woke me.
I didn’t feel like I had slept a single second. My body was heavy, my eyes dry, and my mouth sticky. I would have rolled over and tried to rest longer, but the silence pressed in around me.
At home I could always hear birds, the whistle of the wind, or sometimes the patter of rain outside the glass walls of the greenhouse. Here …
I opened my eyes slowly, struggling to recall where I was and how I had arrived. My tired mind battled through the murk of exhaustion as I observed the down blanket on my bed; solid, painted walls instead of golden wood and colored glass; and faint, flickering light from a hooded oil lamp instead of sun- or moonlight.
I sat up carefully, my sore muscles trying to cajole me into lying back down for another six or seven weeks. I might have given in if the eerie silence hadn’t made the spacious room seem claustrophobic.
I pushed the covers aside and put my bare feet on the plush rug that mostly covered an otherwise cold stone floor.
There were no windows, though that didn’t mean the walls were bare. I approached the paintings with excitement, thinking about the images I’d grown up around in Lady Brina’s studio. One wall boasted a frigid landscape in which an icy river cut through a forest. The opposite wall showed the same scene at the height of summer.
They were pretty, but they weren’t anywhere near as good as Lady Brina’s work.
My interest in the art exhausted, I was shocked to discover that the door to my room wouldn’t open. Locked? To protect me or contain me?
I tried another door and discovered an elaborate washroom with a claw-foot bathtub that had a drain in the bottom and pipes running toward it. I stared for several minutes, examining the mechanisms and remembering how much effort it had been to haul water from the stream whenever I wanted a bath at home.
Then I was back at the door that I hoped led out.
I rattled the knob, as if it might suddenly come unlocked.
The heavy wooden door swung inward instead, nearly striking me, and revealed a horrified-looking young woman in a long black dress. The gown was basic, practical, unlike the beautiful garments—works of art in their own right—that Lady Brina liked to wear. Around her throat was a simple black-leather band, perhaps an inch wide, fastened at the back.
In her hand was a small brass key.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, ducking in a curtsy, her gaze on the floor as if she were afraid to look at me.
“It’s … fine,” I answered. She hadn’t actually hit me. “What’s your name?”
“Rose, sir,” she replied in the same soft, deferential tones. “Master Taro wishes your presence. I am instructed to show you to him.” She stepped back, opening the way to the hall beyond. “This way, sir.”
As I followed her, a question came to mind. “Why are you calling me sir?”
Slaves in Lady Brina’s manor had called Taro that, but never me.
“I’m sorry.” Her gaze dropped again and her shoulders rounded, hunching in like those of an animal afraid of a blow. “Is there a different title you prefer?”
“No,” I answered. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her she could use my name, but what did I know of this place? Titles were a serious matter. I didn’t want to get her in trouble if she knew something I didn’t. “Sir is fine.”
“Yes, sir.”
I shook my head and tried to dispel my sense of unease. I was used to the idea of humans working for vampires and even assisting me as part of their duties, but Lady Brina’s slaves had never shown me this level of deference.
Wherever I was now, the rules had changed.
ROSE LED ME down a stone hallway decorated with elaborate murals. Carved hunting cats stalked in and out of wood paneling, above which the walls had been transformed into a fresco continuing the theme in shades of red, gold, and silver. Iron candelabra holding snow-white candles lit the hall, revealing unique carvings on every door and knob we passed. The entire building was art, down to the carpets beneath my feet.
We passed a half-dozen more doors, all closed, before the hallway ended and we were forced to turn left through an open archway. A guard stood by the doorway, but he nodded as Rose and I approached, granting wordless permission for us to pass.
Farther down this next hall, two men were speaking in low tones. I could sense that they were vampires, but neither looked familiar. I started to approach, curious, but paused as Rose sank to the ground a respectful distance away.
I didn’t know who these men were, but I knew what they were, which meant Rose was right—we were supposed to show respect. Taro had given me permission not to kneel for him, and Lady Brina usually couldn’t be bothered, but these two vampires were strangers. I watched them as discreetly as I could with my knees on the floor and my head bowed.
“I have to ask how you expect to break someone who can in fact boil your blood with a touch,” one of the men was saying with a shake of his head. His skin was as dark as Taro’s, but he was leaner, with black hair.
“The trick is not to let them touch you,” answered the other man, whose long, dark hair reminded me of my own. Unlike his companion, whose jacket was as well cut as many of Lord Daryl’s, the second man was dressed informally, in trousers and an unstarched shirt of such a deep russet that it was nearly black.
“We have company, Nathaniel.” The second man turned to look in my direction, and his black gaze met mine, triggering the back-of-the-neck shiver that always alerted me to the presence of their kind.
“Be good, Jaguar,” Nathaniel warned.
“I know the rules,” Jaguar replied as he walked toward me.
Jaguar’s Celeste. Mistress Jeshickah had referred to another quetzal who lived among vampires. I now realized she might be very near. I would love to meet her. Maybe she could be a friend, unlike the Azteca from the marketplace, who had hated me as soon as they found out who I was.
Jaguar caught my wrist, his grip strong enough to bruise as he lifted me to my feet and said, “You must be Vance.”
“I …” All vampires had black eyes, but somehow Jaguar’s were darker. Deeper. I swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Nonsense, Vance,” he interrupted. “I’ve been instructed to make sure you’re happy and well taken care of. Jeshickah is very concerned for your well-being.”
There was something so honey-sweet in those words that they seemed foul, like they could have flies or other things stuck to them. On the other hand, hearing that Mistress Jeshickah herself had expressed concern for me was almost exciting enough for me to overlook the fact that he had dropped her title.
I glanced over at the other man, Nathaniel, to see if he was angry that I had interrupted their conversation, but all I saw on his face was amusement. He shook his head but said nothing before he continued up the hall in the direction from which I had come.
“Thank you,” I said. There, that was polite.
“Rose, you are dismissed,” Jaguar said to my guide. “I assume you were on your way to see Taro?”
“Yes, sir,” I answered, instinctively falling into formality.
“Relax, boy. You and I don’t need to use titles with each other,” Jaguar said. “As it turns out, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together. My mother was one of your parents’ people, and Jeshickah seems to think that means you and I should … bond.”
The last word had an ironic lilt to it, but a more pressing matter had my attention—a question more important than any other I could ask.
“Why do you call her Jeshickah?” I asked. “Taro told me I should never call her by name without her title. He never does. He says it’s rude.” It was also rude for me to question a vampire about anything … but I needed him to clarify before I could have any idea whether or not to trust him.
“You should never forget her title because you are a bird, and therefore nowhere near to being her equal,” Jaguar answered. “Taro uses her title because he knows he is not her equal, either. No one really is. I frequently do not, because … well, I’m rude. Taro will agree.”
The half smile on his face seemed very honest and almost elicited a matching reaction from me, before I squashed it. He rapped sharply on one of the elaborately carved doors, which was immediately opened by a thin man with a collared throat just like Rose. Another slave, I decided.
He half bowed to Jaguar, saying, “Master Taro is completing a project but will be with you momentarily. May I be of service while you wait?”
“Vance would like some breakfast,” Jaguar replied. He hadn’t consulted me first, but as soon as food was mentioned, my stomach rumbled, so I supposed he hadn’t needed to. “Something simple.”
“Yes, Master.”
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