by Kayleigh Sky
Rune brushed Zev’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I didn’t, and I have another clue.” He shifted sideways and removed the calling card from his pocket. “Look at this.”
Zev took the card, peering closely in the dark. “It’s Camiel’s.”
“Camiel Nezzarram.”
“No. I don’t believe it.”
“Why not?”
“I spoke to him at the coven meeting, and no, I didn’t trust him, but the feeling I got from him… No, I don’t think he’s Adi ’el Lumi. And anyway—” He handed Rune the card. “He’s a fortune teller. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Thomas hid it in his shoe. It means something. I’m going to wring it out of that Nezzarram if it’s the last thing I do.”
“No, you won’t. I won’t let you. I am king. You made me one, Rune, and I am forbidding you to harm Camiel.”
The knife in his chest twisted along with his smile and the sour memory of the oath of obedience Zev had long ago sworn. All the things he’d once counted on were crumbling like their cities. “Vows mean nothing anymore.”
Zev groaned. “Rune—”
“So be it.”
He dimmed, dissolved into nothing before he even willed himself to transmute, grief and rage carrying him miles before he collapsed into his body on an empty road and howled into the black sky.
14
The Mysterious Map
Imaginary fingers crept up Isaac’s spine, and imaginary eyes followed his every move. At least that was what he told himself, and it was probably the truth. He wasn’t a prisoner. Nobody kept track of him or fed from him. He ate his meals with the family. Even Anin ate with them.
“No ceremony here,” Essie said with a smile.
Isaac wasn’t sure why not. She was a hundred years old, at least. Her face was as wrinkled as a walnut bleached in lye, and she was as thin as a stalk of wheat. But her eyes—those were as old and black and luminous as the cosmos. What things did she know that were lost now? It made him wonder about the things his parents could have told him about his family. Essie had no children anymore, only her grandson, Yair. The King had never questioned Isaac about helping Asa escape the dungeon, and Isaac wasn’t a part of anything that had happened after that. But he wasn’t deaf. Yair had been a part of the plot to kill the king and was Moss and Uriah’s fated. But maybe Essie didn’t want to talk about that. Isaac didn’t blame her.
Kind though she was, she was a vampire he didn’t know.
He stayed out of sight, but he was sick of his room too. Anin played cards with him, but there was only so much of that anyone could do.
Maybe she’d let him cook. Probably not.
Besides… somebody was watching him. Not a crew of sentries or anything like that, but somebody.
Rune?
It didn’t feel like Rune.
The sensation probed him from the woods off to the side of the house. One of the creeks that connected to a wider river flowed nearby, and Isaac hadn’t gone down there yet, but he’d glimpsed the river, flat and dark, through the reeds when they’d arrived. Reeds thick enough to hide somebody. But it was a bright, sunny day, so maybe he read too many crime mysteries and was turning into Jessa, who wanted to solve all Isaac’s problems with a fake boyfriend. Maybe it was Anin watching him. Isaac had told him he was taking a nap.
He’d meant to.
Doing nothing made him lazy. Being lazy made him restless. So here he was outside. He took a step off the patio onto a path. The house was airy and open with walls that were mostly windows. Oak trees surrounded them, randomly dotting the landscape. Water played in scattered fountains. Birds chattered cheerfully. At night, amber-colored lights glowed along the walkways and frogs croaked in the creeks and ponds.
The patio was made of interconnecting slabs of concrete embedded with opaque stones in various shades of green and blue. The paths led between the slabs to a wide swath of gravel that wound through the tree-shaded meadow.
After a few minutes, he was out of sight of the house. The birdsong and the babble of the nearest creek grew louder. He found a break through the trees and slipped down a weedy slope to the water’s edge. On the other side of the creek, heavy bushes formed a wall, blocking the view from beyond. He sat down on a rock and gasped at the sight of a few fish. The last, and first, time he’d seen a creek with fish in it had been when he’d stayed in Senera Castle. He wriggled closer to the edge of the rock, elbows on his knees, chin in his hand. The sun and the whisper of leaves brought a lulling peace. He drifted until a bird thrashed in a bush and fluttered away. Reeds floated in the water, flattened like flowing hair. The silty bottom wavered under the creek’s surface. So clear and clean. He swiped a hand through it. It was cool, not cold.
The snap of a branch was probably nothing.
No reason for the hairs on the back of his neck to bristle. He glanced behind him, but from where he sat, the slope of the creek bank and tall grasses blocked his view. The weeds stood still, no breeze to bend them. Would a branch break and fall for no reason? Isaac leaned on his palm and pushed himself up. Now the canopy of the trees appeared. The silence, which hadn’t registered at first, broke as hidden birds sang and chattered again until… they stopped.
This time there was no broken branch, but something, something tickled his nerves. He held his breath. The birds stayed silent. Scrambling up the slope, he scanned the road as it came into view, but it was empty. The house was only ten minutes away. When the rattle of bushes carried to him, he scanned the area. Nothing moved. Where had the sound come from? Another crack sent him running into the trees on a straight line for the house. More noise erupted, this time in front of him. He skittered to a stop, backpedaling until a raspy, “Help,” halted him.
He stood still, chest heaving, eyes wide. Something pale appeared behind the leaves. Poised to run again, he hesitated. What if they’re hurt? What if you needed help? Was he the kind of person who just ran? His heart thundered and his ears rang, but he leaned forward at the waist, grabbed a branch on the nearest bush, and pulled it back. A shape in tan trousers and a green shirt lay on the ground, one hand stretching toward him, the bloody fingers of the other digging into the soil.
Isaac gasped and dropped down beside the form. “Oh no. Are you hurt bad?”
“I… poison,” came a whisper. “I must…”
“I’ll go get help.”
But the man rolled, and Isaac rocked at the sight of bloody eye sockets, glistening fangs, and red and purple streaks under the skin.
“I won’t… won’t hurt… Anin.” The vampire’s breath gurgled. He patted at his shirt. “Take… take… it.”
“You won’t hurt Anin?”
The vampire leaked a slow hiss. “Nooo.”
Isaac shot a stare into the trees. The sun shone, and the birds sang again. Everything was so normal, but they were alone. “I need to get somebody.”
He jumped up, but a hand gripped his ankle. The vampire’s other hand clutched at his belly. “Take it.”
The grip on Isaac’s ankle tightened like steel, though a shudder racked the vampire’s body, and blood spilled from his mouth.
Isaac’s heart leaped into his throat. “Oh God.”
He bent down again, his ear against the vampire’s chest, and closed his eyes, praying for a beat. His breath whooshed in his head. He held it, listening, but there was nothing until his name reverberated, and for a weird moment, it seemed to come from the vampire.
“Isaaaac!”
He sat up and touched the vampire’s face. Dead. Tears stung his eyes. Why wasn’t death more monumental? Something that snuck in shouldn’t be forever. It wasn’t right somehow.
“Isaaaac!”
He took a breath. “Over here!”
The vampire’s shirt had hitched up to reveal a rectangular shape underneath it. Isaac lifted the hem and found an envelope tucked in the waistband. He removed it as Anin appeared in the distance, barreled through the trees, and jolted to a panting stop.
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Isaac looked up and swallowed. “He’s dead.”
Ignoring the other vampire, Anin gripped Isaac’s shoulders, panic in his stare. “Are you hurt?”
“No. He didn’t do anything.”
Inhaling, Anin squeezed his eyes shut before reopening them and blowing out a heavy breath. “Forgive me for not being here.”
“You-you couldn’t be. I went for a walk and… I heard somebody call for help. I looked and found him.”
Shock in his gaze now, Anin lowered to a knee and stared at the vampire. “What happened to him?”
“I don’t know. Something terrible. Poison, I think.”
Anin grimaced. “Maybe the same that killed Og Gennarah.” He stood again and swept the area with his gaze.
“I didn’t see anybody else. He said he wasn’t going to hurt you.”
Anin’s stare shot back down. “Me?”
Isaac stood too. “He said your name.”
“What is that?” Anin gestured with his chin to the envelope in Isaac’s hand.
“I don’t know. He gave it to me.”
“For who?”
“He just said I should take it.”
Anin shook his head. “Come on. Let’s get back to the house.”
“What about him?”
“We’ll send Essie’s people. You’re my job. You shouldn’t leave my sight.”
The fear in Anin’s voice crawled under Isaac’s skin. “I’m okay. You can’t be with me all the time.”
“Your safety is the most important thing to me. It’s my job and more. You are my friend, Isaac, and not every vampire can be trusted.”
“Or human. Why would he say he didn’t want to hurt you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t recognize him, but his face… I can’t tell for sure. Come on.”
Anin gripped his elbow and pulled him away. The house wasn’t far. The sun still poured down, and the water fountains still splashed. They entered the house through a pair of sliding glass doors. The room was some kind of lounge where people could sit but probably wouldn’t do much of anything but talk. It was white—from the marble floors and shaggy white rugs to the sofas and chairs and walls. Only the piano in the corner of the room was a solid, glossy black.
Anin took a breath and shut the glass door. “Sit. I’ll be right back.”
Isaac dropped to one of the sofas, the vibrations in his legs surprising him. He was afraid to close his eyes and see the vampire’s ruined face loom up at him. Somebody else who’d died right in front of him. Struggling to live. And this time Isaac had actually witnessed it.
He stared at the piano with its raised lid to distract himself. Maybe somebody here played it, but not any time he’d been around. The estate was large though. Not as big as the king’s manor, but for all the people who lived here, it was eerily quiet.
The crunch of the envelope in his fingers startled him. He gazed down at it. The paper was buff like any manila envelope. It had a metal clasp, but the flap was glossy with some kind of wax or glue. It had no stamp and no address.
Raising his head, Isaac gazed down the hall Anin had taken. No footsteps clicked on the black tile, no voices spoke on the other side of the doorways within view. He looked down again, worked his finger under the flap, and pulled it loose. A dark ochre piece of paper appeared. He removed it. It was rough, a kind of parchment, and folded in thirds. Isaac opened it and cupped it on his palms.
The paper was old, worn on the edges and along the folds. The print was a faded blue, close to turquoise. On one side, lines and strange shapes formed a map. On the other were lines written in a foreign language. One edge of the paper was ragged as though somebody had torn it. Isaac turned it back and forth, a frown forming on his face.
Why would the vampire give it to him?
“What do you have there, young man?”
He jerked his head up. Essie stood in the doorway, on the edge of a single step, a young vampire behind her. Anin and some of Essie’s vampires moved on the other side of the sliding glass doors, heading away from the house.
Isaac stood. “I’m not really sure, ma’am.”
Essie stepped down and approached. Her companion followed. “May I see that?” she asked.
“Sure.” Isaac held it out.
She smiled, her eyes bright and curious, and took the parchment, holding it with care on one palm. “This is my grandson, Yair. Yair, our guest, Isaac.”
Isaac smiled. The creature was lissome and shy, half hiding behind his long hair. His face glowed with a pink flush. He smiled back at Isaac. “Hello.”
“Hi.”
Yair didn’t look like an assassin.
Essie lifted the parchment and peered at the back. “Interesting.”
“I think it’s a map.”
“Indeed. Though I have no idea of what. And this language is quite old.”
“Do you know what it is?”
She looked up. “It’s Ellowyn, but not a dialect I know. Nonextant, I would say.”
Isaac wasn’t sure what nonextant meant, but he guessed something people didn’t use anymore, like Latin.
“Oh. Okay. I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do with it though.”
Yair peered at it over his grandmother’s shoulder.
“Are you sure it’s yours?” Essie asked.
“He gave it to me.” Isaac’s tone sounded desperate even to him, and it surprised him. He wasn’t used to clinging to things because he seldom had anything that was just his, but the vampire had died, and maybe he’d been crazed with pain when he’d given Isaac the map, but it was the last thing he’d done, and that ought to matter. He ought to matter, and Isaac had been the one at his side, so who else would honor him now? “He wanted me to have it.”
Essie’s smile widened. “Well, then. It must be yours.” After she returned his map to him, and he folded it and slipped it back into the manila envelope, she relaxed into her chair. “What will you do with it?”
Good question.
“Find somebody who can read it, I guess.”
Essie chuckled. “I’m the oldest vampire, I know, so I’m the logical choice, but that… that is quite special.”
“Like a code?”
“Perhaps. I’ll make some inquiries.”
“Thank you.”
A code? Wow. For all Isaac knew, it was a treasure map.
15
The Good Witch
At some point Camiel sensed him. Rune didn’t know the exact moment or how it happened. He’d entered the house before dawn. Despite the size of the place, Camiel lived alone, and he’d been alone that night. Surprising, because Camiel’s reputation for the high life preceded him. But the house had been dark and still, only the faint sounds of Camiel breathing drifting from the back.
It was a single story house and easy to search, but Rune found nothing of particular interest to him.
Abstract art hung on the walls, probably here when Camiel had taken over the place.
Rune had gutted the lower floor and basement of his castle and had it remodeled to remind him of Celestine. The bedrooms upstairs he’d left alone to remind him of those who had come before him.
Somehow, Rune thought Camiel had changed little of his home. It was spacious, open plan for the most part, situated on a dry hillock, with picture windows that offered a panoramic view of the barren landscape and the lights of the distant Palm Desert. Crystals appeared in random places, interspersed with incense pots that released the residue of smoky or spicy scents and common fortune-telling cards. None of the cards emitted any power, so none were ones Camiel would use for real readings.
He pushed open the door to Camiel’s bedroom. Corner floor to ceiling windows let in starlight and filled the room with a gray haze. As he’d thought, Camiel was alone, sprawled on his belly, face buried in a pillow. Rune retreated, returned to the living room, and sat in a chair to wait.
He fell asleep as the sun rose and woke to noise in the back of the house. Water running. A
door closing.
Camiel appeared, scrubbing his hair with a towel as he crossed the room. “Coffee?”
Rune said nothing but stood and followed him to the kitchen. He kept the island between them, eyeing Camiel as he went about his morning routine. He wasn’t afraid, but he wasn’t as nonchalant as he pretended either.
Camiel waited until coffee dripped into the pot, then turned with a sigh. “Bless humans for this.”
“For many things,” Rune murmured.
A forced smile graced Camiel’s face. “I know you, but I can’t recall from where.” He squinted, and unease surfaced in his eyes. “It’s rude to break into someone’s home when they’re asleep.”
“Would you have preferred when you were awake?”
Camiel’s eyebrows lifted. “As a matter of fact, yes. I might have been occupied.”
“As it turned out, you weren’t.”
He sighed. “It can’t be a party every night. Do you know my name?”
“Yes, Nezzarram.”
“Always with the last name. As though I voluntarily chose it.”
“I share it.”
With a frown, Camiel straightened from where he leaned on the counter, took two mugs from a cupboard, filled them with coffee, and set one down. He pushed it slowly across the island toward Rune until he’d fully extended his arm, then stepped back.
“Afraid of me?” Rune asked.
“Milk or sugar? I am afraid… that I’m out of cream.” He smiled again before he took a sip of his coffee.
“Both.”
Camiel set his cup down, took a carton from the refrigerator, grabbed a bowl off the counter, and set both on the island. “Do help yourself to refills.”
Rune smiled at him. “You’re so kind.”
Camiel laughed now. “Your accent on my name was Celes. I was born in Majallena and lived most of my life underground in Kolnadia.” He took a swallow of his coffee, then gulped it, eyes widening. “Maybe that’s where I saw you.”
Rune shrugged. He fixed his coffee the way he liked it and returned the carton back to the refrigerator. When he turned back, Camiel stared at him for a moment longer before he said, “Let’s sit in the living room, Majesty.”
