by Kayleigh Sky
But his heart…
His heart fought him, and all it had to do was appear with Isaac’s face. Soon, it said. Maybe soon.
But he didn’t believe that anymore. There was no soon. Not for him.
After the clicks of Uriah’s soles on the walkway faded to silence, he struggled up, drank another glass of water, and got under a cold stream in the shower. Hair plastered to his head and shoulders, he leaned a palm against the tile and closed his eyes. His weakness washed away, and the tremor in his legs disappeared. With a deep breath, he straightened, washed himself, and got out. He stared at his pile of clothes on the floor while he dried his hair, then stepped back into the room, and glanced around until he spotted the bags under the table by the window. He found his clothes in the first bag, pulled on jeans and a shirt, then lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
Random splotches of plaster floated closer, but it was only a trick of shadow and light—like dimming. He lay on the bed, jabbed in places by odd lumps. Vampires didn’t really appear out of nowhere. But Rune…
Well, he faded into a fog and rode the currents in the air.
Dimming was the easiest thing to call what he did. The first time it had happened, when he’d stumbled on one of the original royal necklaces, had been surreal enough to believe he’d dreamed it. But it had changed everything.
The necklaces made locating the treasure and restoring his family honor possible. Dimming let him go wherever he wanted without detection. Stealing the necklaces was easy once he located them. Now he had all but one.
Was that what held him in Baggins? The pull of the last necklace?
What else did he want that a Mithrinin could give him?
He stretched out on the bed and let stillness settle inside him.
A few minutes later, the click of Uriah’s steps reached his ears. He sat up and faced the door.
A small smile crossed Uriah’s face. “You feel better.”
He nodded. “And that smells good.”
“Barbecue. Ribs, chicken, potato salad, and Synelix.”
“They sold Synelix?”
Uriah chuckled. “No. I picked it up separate. Not a lot. I didn’t want to look suspicious.”
“Some is better than none.”
“I doubt anybody here will recognize us. Most of the families are Bithryns, Dellos, and Jomins.”
“And one Mithrinin.”
Uriah nodded. “True.”
Rune took a seat at the round table by the dresser where Uriah pulled containers from a bag. The synthetic blood came in a coffee cup with a lid on it. He tugged the lid off and took a long swallow. It was tepid and oozed down his throat. The last of the dryness inside him eased, and he sighed. “Never thought I’d say Synelix hit the spot.”
Uriah laughed. “I like it.”
“Yes, but you’ve always been an odd one.”
Uriah sat too, and they ate in silence for a few minutes. After finishing two ribs and half a chicken, Rune wiped his mouth. “You have news about Mithrinin? What does he think I want?”
“Your throne.”
Rune laughed. “And he has a plan to help me with that?”
Uriah put his rib down and nodded. “Maybe, but he didn’t share it with me. He wants to meet. I set it up for the day after tomorrow at a bar called The Hot Spot. This is his usual pattern, so it won’t seem odd.”
Rune frowned over a bite of potato salad. “His name sounds familiar.”
“Camiel Nezzarram’s mother was a Mithrinin. I wouldn’t have thought of it except Camiel was at the coven meeting. Thomas was from Majallena.”
Rune swallowed. “How long has it been since a Nezzarram attended a coven meeting? Five? Six years?”
“Something like that. They want to negotiate their release from exile.”
“Huh. Okay. What time do I meet him?”
“Seven.”
“Anything else?”
Uriah’s face tightened, brows lowering over his darkening eyes. “The murders Otto was looking into were just a handful. There are many more. We are being killed.”
The comment hit Rune with a thunk. Dull-witted for a moment, he frowned. Killed? “Who is being killed?”
“Vampires. Dying like Og Gennarah. The murders seemed random at first, and nobody saw the connection to Og, but Otto’s been following the cases. The coroner for the last one said she’d never seen anything like it. Some kind of combination anticoagulant and corrosive. It burns right through the veins.”
Rune fought to hide the chill that ran like blue fire over his hot skin. “Any idea why?”
“Some people say it’s Synelix. That it’s gone bad, or that we’re becoming resistant to it.”
“That’s idiotic. It would just stop working if that was the case.”
“I’m not saying that’s what’s going on. But some people are. And there were five more murders last month. Another thing…” Uriah leaned against the edge of the table, closer to Rune. “We’re the only ones calling them murders. And the only reason for that is because Otto’s been keeping tabs. Most everybody else is calling them suspicious or unusual but not outright murder. Otto says it’s only a matter of time before people start calling it a reaction to Synelix.”
Rune stared into Uriah’s eyes. “And everybody panics.”
Uriah nodded. “We don’t know exactly who’s passing on those rumors, but if more people die, nobody’s gonna want to drink it.”
“Is it certain the poison is being introduced that way?”
Uriah shook his head. “No. The bodies have been in bad shape, so it could be some other way.”
Rune leaned back in his chair. “The bastards. No life is sacred to them. They only pretend to love the Ellowyn.”
“You think the Adi ’el Lumi is behind this?”
He gritted his teeth and nodded. “We’re running out of time.”
“You still think getting the necklaces will stop them?”
“We aren’t going after the necklaces.”
Pain knotted his gut. Pain for… Isaac. Something was wrong with his fated.
Uriah dropped his rib and licked his fingers. “Then what are we going after?”
Isaac…
Sweat broke out on Rune’s skin, but he clenched his fists and met Uriah’s perplexed frown.
“The treasure.”
2
Goodbye
Dead.
How did somebody go from being alive one minute and dead the next?
Isaac sat on the side of his bed with his hands clasped between his knees, gaze locked on Asa, who sat on a chair with Rowena in his lap, fingers lost in the ruff of her neck. He rocked her back and forth, and her tongue lolled, eyes in a happy squint.
It must be nice to be a dog.
“We’ll go into town in a couple minutes, okay?”
Isaac blinked. “Town? Why?”
“To bring back dinner. You don’t want to…”
A hot burst of anger filled Isaac’s body. He sweated with it, but he had no way of getting it out, because why would he be angry at Asa. “Cook?”
Asa nodded.
No. The thought turned Isaac’s stomach. He never wanted to step into that kitchen ever again. It was Marcus’s. His nose burned, and he had to grit his teeth to keep the tears back.
“He was alive this morning.”
They’d been planning the king’s brunch. Isaac had stood beside the coffee machine…
* * *
… and glowered through the kitchen window at Will, who grabbed a blueberry muffin from Dot’s basket, slung an arm around her, and strolled with her to the garage.
Marcus sat at the worktable with his binder. “What are you moping about?”
His stupid fated love. Isaac had given up everything to follow him, and he was still alone. “Nothing.”
“Well, get your coffee and come sit.”
He was done waiting for Rune. He had options. Like Anin, who was his best friend here next to Asa. Several times a we
ek, Anin drove Isaac into town for groceries. It had taken a while for the vampire to say more than yes or no, but Isaac had a good sense about people and liked the stoic vampire. He was half a foot taller than Isaac and broad in the shoulders. A good catch, and Isaac was free… -ish. Irritation burned under his skin. It was ridiculous to be alone. He was twenty-three years old, and guilt knotted his stomach every time he thought about anybody but Rune. Not that Anin was available. He’d hinted at somebody in his life. Somebody Isaac reminded him of, but only a friend, Anin had said. Somebody he didn’t see anymore.
A stupid fated love?
After he tore his eyes off the happy couple outside, he poured his coffee and sat at the table, kitty-corner from Marcus, who had a pad of paper beside his open binder. And not just any binder. It was a battered, black binder with its vinyl corners peeling back, six-inches wide, and stuffed with more than a thousand handwritten recipes, notes, and personal entries that read more like a journal. The binder was Marcus’s life as a chef, and nobody had to tell Isaac it was something Marcus didn’t share with anybody else.
He took a sip of his coffee and set his cup down.
“We need to do a little planning for the brunch,” Marcus said. “Actually, you need to do a little planning for the brunch.”
The king had told the kitchen to expect the Wrythin family, father and son and three cousins, in four days, so there was a lot of work to do anyway, but the morning after their arrival, the king wanted brunch served for both his guests and neighbors. With Moss and Asa attending, Marcus had said they’d have to plan for a dozen people. Not a big number, but the first brunch Isaac would help with. He’d practiced for it with baked goods like the blueberry muffins, which according to Dot were “spectacular!”
After noticing Marcus’s raised eyebrows as he stared at him, Isaac frowned. “Me?”
“I want you to take over the entire affair. You can do it, and I’m here to help.”
“Me?”
“You already said that. Here.” Marcus pushed the notepad and pen at him. “It’s summer, so it might be a good idea to take advantage of all the vegetables available.”
His mouth went dry. The idea of being in charge of an entire party registered with an eruption of goosebumps on his skin. He flushed and took a breath.
“What about fruit too? Like a plum cobbler?”
Marcus set the tip of a finger against the notepad and edged it a closer. “This is your baby. You’re going to plan it, formulate your production schedule, and we’ll all help.”
“What if I make a mistake?”
Marcus chuckled. “Have I ever told you about the time I made cantaloupe soup?” Isaac shook his head. “It was supposed to be sorbet, but it didn’t set. A formal dinner and one of the first courses was a disaster. But I was out of time, so I sprinkled a few oregano leaves on each serving and called it soup. Nobody was the wiser. You’re going to be just fine, son.”
Isaac doubted that, chewed his lip, and wrote down plum cobbler. And mushrooms. Something with mushrooms. Maybe…
Marcus wiped his forehead and stood. “You go through the binder and write down any ideas that come to you. We’ll narrow things down from there. I’m gonna start the dinner prep. It’s hot this summer.”
“There’s lemonade in the fridge.”
It was sunny, but to Isaac, it was seldom hot anymore. He sipped his coffee and leafed through Marcus’s binder. The pages had begun to yellow. Marcus wrote the recipes in a small, blocky hand. Only his personal asides, the journal-like entries, took on a flourish. “How long have you had this binder?” Isaac asked.
Marcus stood in front of the open refrigerator. He glanced over with a befuddled frown that faded a moment later. “I was your age. Nobody told me to. Just seemed like a good idea to write things down.”
Isaac turned a page. “Oh, these stuffed potatoes sound good.”
“Which ones?”
“With the walnuts.”
“Time-consuming, but we can do the prep for those the day before.”
Marcus set a large roasting pan on the other end of the table. Isaac wrote down walnut-and Gorgonzola-stuffed potatoes. He wasn’t sure what kind of cheese Gorgonzola was, but herbed goat cheese sounded good too. He squinted at the roasting pan for a moment. Maybe roasted vegetables and pork loin? He wrote it down.
Marcus layered the pan with beef shanks and drizzled them with oil. “You can have one of these for your soup.”
“Well, these were a hit.” Dot strode through the door with an empty basket. “Every last muffin gone. The gluttons.”
Isaac grinned. “Well, that’s what they were for.”
“Gonna need you to scrub up the beets,” said Marcus.
Dot swung the empty basket at her side on the way to the pantry. “I’m on it.”
Cucumber and onion salad. Would they not want tomatoes, or was it only the king who didn’t like them?
“I think that lemonade just might hit the spot,” said Marcus as he lifted the pan, face rosy under his russet-brown complexion.
Isaac smiled and looked back at the binder.
The crash of the pan on the tile jerked him upright. He spun his head sideways, taking in the rolling beef bones and—
“Marcus!”
Dot burst out of the pantry. “Oh shit.”
Marcus lay on his back, hands on his chest, mouth and eyes open. Isaac lunged, sliding on his knees to Marcus’s side. He gripped his shoulders and shook him enough to make his head loll.
The sun shone across the surface of his eyes, but inside… inside they were only dark.
“Marcus?”
“Oh no.”
Dot knelt on Marcus’s other side and cupped his face.
“He isn’t dead.”
Dot lifted her gaze to his. “Honey—”
“No.” He refused to believe it. “No.”
Dot pushed his hands away and pressed her cheek to Marcus’s chest. A frown furrowed her brow. She sat back up, straddled him, and crossed her hands over his heart. “Go get help.”
Isaac scooted back. “You won’t let him die.”
She didn’t answer. Isaac jumped up and ran out the door. “Help!”
He ran down the hall into the foyer. At his next shout, the front door opened, and Ray, one of the enforcers, glanced in with a scowl.
“Help me,” Isaac gasped.
“What’s going on?”
“Marcus. I think… I think he’s had a heart attack.”
Ray’s scowl vanished. He yanked his radio off his belt. “Go back. We’ll be right there.”
Isaac raced down the hall again. In the kitchen, Will stood inside the door, his horrified gaze fixed on Dot. Isaac fell to his knees. The burst of pain as he met the tile struck him from far away. Slipping a hand under Marcus’s neck, he tipped his head back, covered Marcus’s mouth with his, and breathed into him. He matched Dot’s rhythm. At some point, Will replaced her. Who was going to help Isaac cook? How was he going to plan the brunch without Marcus? Well, he wouldn’t have to because Marcus wasn’t old enough to die. Not yet. He’d be fine because Isaac was breathing for him, and Will was pumping his chest, and help was coming, and…
He lashed out as a pair of hands hooked under his arms and dragged him away from Marcus’s side.
A voice whispered in his ear. “Stop.”
“No.”
“It’s over.”
Asa lifted him onto his feet, and Isaac jerked himself out of Asa’s grip. But vampires surrounded Marcus now. Will hugged Dot, who stood with her head on his shoulder, her eyes closed. Dennis and Casey stood inside the door, faces blanched of color. Isaac staggered, his gaze sweeping the kitchen, falling on the open binder with its thousands of yellowed pages. The clock ticked, and the clack of the minute hand boomed in his head like a timer on a bomb…
* * *
Isaac swallowed a strange confusion. Nothing seemed real at the moment. “He wasn’t that old.”
Only seventy-two.
> “I know.”
Asa jostled Rowena off his lap and got up. Isaac was glad of his company right now and happy Asa had stayed his friend. Asa was the king’s fated, and Isaac was just a servant, though that didn’t matter to Asa. It didn’t even matter to him that Isaac had once stolen food from him. But Asa had been homeless too and had understood him. They’d stuck together and gotten jobs here.
With Marcus…
Isaac clenched his jaw and met Asa’s gaze. It wasn’t gentle. Whatever softness Asa had was buried deep, but a wisp of pain crossed his face. “Come on,” he said. “I could use the company. You don’t have to talk or anything.”
Isaac wished the images of Marcus dying would go away, but maybe they’d get worse if he stayed by himself, so he stood and followed Asa outside. They took one of the SUVs and went to a market in New Seaside that had a small deli section. Isaac stared at a meat slicer on the back counter, and a lump formed in his throat. “Remember when we met him?”
Asa turned away from the glass case with the cookies and frowned for a moment. “Justin introduced us. I remember he liked you right away.”
“He was slicing meat.”
Asa’s mouth opened. “Oh.”
Isaac looked away and stared at the cookies. They bought four dozen along with sandwiches and salads.
“Where’s Marcus’s family?”
Asa set the last box in the SUV before answering. “I don’t know. Maybe nowhere, like all of ours.”
“Adalyn was family.”
“Adalyn’s gone home. Hadda took her.”
Fuzziness came over Isaac for a moment. Maybe he’d lost time. Was this the same day? No Marcus. No Adalyn. He climbed into the SUV. “I shouldn’t be here anymore.”
