She nodded. “Supposedly, the treaty assures that no single group will get exterminated by the others acting together, because everyone knows their turn would come up eventually. But it’s never been tested. Crimes and slights are handled by the signatory council or their chosen representatives, but...”
“But you’re worried that it won’t stop a war.” I swallowed hard at the dry lump in my throat. War. Supernatural war in Birmingham’s streets. I shook my head.
“Or that they’ll use Daniella to force concessions out of us, maybe even force us out of the city completely. The Magisterium abandoned Birmingham decades ago. Without us to keep the Sanguinarians in check, that wouldn’t be pretty.” Her voice wavered, just a little; in the dim, Tamara’s eyes shimmered wetly.
I knew why. Because the third option was that her little sister would die, separated from her friends and family like all the rest had, used as a tiny pawn in a much bigger game.
None of those outcomes were acceptable.
“Well, she’s not gonna stay gone, so don’t worry about it,” I rasped.
Tamara smiled at me, carefully wiping an eye. “Thanks, Ashes. I know you’ll do what you can.”
And more. “So, what gets me, is why doesn’t Liandra just take some of your sister’s blood or something and hire a Magisterium wizard to track her down? That would solve this whole thing, right?” Surely it couldn’t be that easy.
“I don’t know what Liandra’s doing.” Tamara looked down, and I could hear the note of frustration in her voice. “For all I know, Sanguinarian magic can block clairvoyance like that…But I honestly have no idea. She won’t work with me, the bitch. It’s like she doesn't trust me, especially ever since I ‘betrayed her trust,’ whatever that means.”
I frowned, crossing my arms. “Well, fuck her. We don’t need her; we’ll do this ourselves. Then you can go up to her and be like ‘ha, bitch, I’m better than you.’”
Tamara smiled weakly. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I’ll settle on getting Dani back safe and sound. But for that we need leads. Did you guys check in with Mama Flora yet?”
“Mama Who?” I blinked dry eyes at her, drawing a blank.
Tamara sighed. “Seriously? Mama Flora? Mambo Flora Ramona?” She stared at me. “The Vodou lady?”
“Oh!” Shit. “No we did not.”
Tamara frowned and crossed her arms reproachfully. “So you’re going to chase dead ends and get beaten up in storm drains with Charles, but you won’t follow the lead I gave you?”
Glad for the millionth time that I couldn’t blush, I avoided meeting her gaze. “I kinda thought that was something Charles would take care of. A magic thing.”
“Well, she contacted me again today and asked for you both by name, so I kinda doubt it.”
I winced. “Well, I mentioned it to him the night after you talked to me about it. He didn’t seem to think it was that important.”
Tamara frowned, the full force of it no longer directed at me. “She said she has information on what’s causing the disappearances.” I could hear upset creeping into her voice. “She seemed to know a lot about what was going on, too, more than she probably should, and—”
“Say no more. I’m on it. Tomorrow night, I promise.” I powered up my phone. “Pass me the address. And I’m sorry, okay? I really am.”
Tamara smiled, breaking the very palpable weight of her disapproval. “It’s okay, Ashes. I know you’re trying your best; there’s just so much on the line, you know?” She wrapped her arms around herself; I’d never seen her this upset. I wondered how much more was going on in the Moroaică family internal politics. “Try to get him to go with you, though. I’ve known Mama Flora for years, and I trust her. If she asked Charles to come, she asked for a reason.”
“I’ll make certain he shows too, okay? Even if I have to drag him. Because I can totally drag—” I cut off in puzzlement as my phone started buzzing. There were only three people in the world that might message me, and one of them was sitting right in front of me. Another was probably passed out in his sanctum, whiskey bottle still in hand.
I broke into a broad smile, putting the cell phone to my ear. “Lor! Hey!”
“Hey, yourself.” Lori Harper was the love of my life, the person I’d have given anything to be able to go back home to, to rest in her arms. She was the person I would gladly die for—and I kind of had. She’d also been my longtime girlfriend, at least until a few months ago, when she’d been kidnapped and tortured, and I had died. Where or what we were now, I didn’t know, but I wasn’t giving up. “I’m glad I caught you… I know it's early...or late? Anyway, I wondered…” She hesitated, then her voice perked back up. “Can you talk for a bit, Ash?”
“Uhhhh…” I didn’t want to say anything but yes. I didn’t know if I even could; but Tamara and her sister needed me too. Not that there was anything I could do tonight, and I couldn’t very well explain what was going on to a woman traumatized by a similar supernatural encounter—
“Ashes.” Tamara caught my attention with a soft smile. “It’s okay.”
I frowned, making my best “are you sure about that” face.
Tamara held up a hand, stopping me before I could say anything. “There’s nothing we can do tonight, and I need to get home anyway.”
I nodded. It didn’t take much for Tamara to convince me. After Lori’s capture by the Rawhead and subsequent rescue, she’d broken down completely. The fact that she was on the mend at all was solely due to Tamara getting her set up with a psychiatrist that worked for the Moroi, one that understood supernaturally induced traumas. The bottom line was that I’d only started hearing from her again a couple of months ago, and I craved any chance I could get.
I told Lori to hold on for a moment and walked Tamara to her car. Considering how we’d stumbled across my church in the first place, I needed no further proof that this part of town wasn’t safe, even for Moroi princesses. I started to apologize again, but stopped when Tamara shushed me.
“Ashes, it’s okay. I know you and Lori need to talk. Any opportunity you can get, right?” She smiled gently. “Just take care of yourself and lock up behind you.” She grinned, but the look in those sapphire eyes was deadly serious and a little worried. “I don’t want to think about what that Sang could do with your blood. So promise me you’ll be careful and call me if you’re in trouble.”
“Will do.” Of course, I was about to be out cold for the next several hours, which left the promise half empty. “And be careful on your way home.” If I hadn’t been there with her last time, Tamara might have died.
I waited for her car to rumble out of sight and earshot before returning inside and sealing my semi-secret passage behind me. “Sorry, Lor. I’m back now.”
“Hey, Ash.” My dead heart twisted a bit, thudding out one solid, lonely beat before going temporarily still again. I could visualize her sparkling, slate gray eyes and her soft smile, the one she only ever gave me, the one that tugged at my heart. “So…How are you?”
“I’m…” I stifled what I would have said to anyone else: that my arm was broken by a troll in a bar fight, that I was still trying to find what kind of monster was abducting children by the handful before a war broke out, and that I’d exchanged a really nice hug with two drug pushers and child traffickers earlier. I knew my Lori was still too sensitive, even if she was getting better. “I’m good. Now that you’re here, I’m good.” I wasn’t lying.
“Still doing your meditations? I didn’t interrupt you, did I?”
“Nah. Was just talking to a friend.” I did meditation every day the world wasn’t in danger of collapsing. It helped. “The meditation’s going well. It’s just not terribly exciting.”
She chuckled quietly. “Tamara? I thought I heard a voice.”
I figured she’d gotten to know Tamara while she was gone, at least a little. At this point, Lori seemed familiar enough with what the Moroi were anyway. It bothered me a little; Tamara didn’t seem to scare her. Bu
t then, Tamara wasn’t dead, wasn’t her former girlfriend, and possessed all of the advantages of the Moroi social superpowers. “Yeah, but she already headed out.” I cleared my throat, trying to keep my voice as close to the old me as possible. “So, what’s up with you?” Best to redirect the conversation away from my supernatural escapades.
Lori was doing the best she could, I knew. I could be patient; I was fully willing to wait for her to get better, to give her whatever support she needed. It’s not like she was the one who’d traumatized herself, after all.
I’d already killed that monster.
Her voice turned more casual, more comfortable as she chatted with me, and I smiled. “Well, my friends from work helped me find a new job…” Lori was a model and, in my humble opinion, deservedly so. I thought she was every bit as pretty as a Moroi, but maybe I was a little bit biased. She’d left her old job, not because she didn’t love working there, but because of the memories. It’d been where she’d worked when we’d met, when we’d moved in together, while we’d made a life together. It had also been where a man had become so obsessed with her that he’d been willing to kill, just for a shot at having her to himself.
While I listened to her talk about how her life was going, I shut down my laptop, crawled into the corner, and wrapped up in my thick, faithful blanket and the oh-so-familiar sound of her voice. Dawn would be here soon, and with it, oblivion for one more day.
“So, Ashes…” I knew that tone. She wanted to ask something, but she was scared of the answer. I remembered when nothing seemed to scare her. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“Yeah, Lor. Anything. You know that.” I meant it, too. I always had. Always would.
“We’ve been talking a lot more, right? Like every week, at least?”
“Yeah.” It meant a lot to me that she kept trying. Together, we could work this out.
“I was wondering… Maybe you’d like to go out again?”
The question caught me off guard. Relief flooded me, releasing the tension I hadn’t known was mounting. I burst out laughing as that relief turned to joy, the rough, hoarse sound of my voice echoing from the walls of my little chamber. “I thought you were going to ask for a golden fleece or something.” Actually, I was afraid you were going to…say something else entirely. “I don’t know, Lor. I don’t know if I’m able to handle going out with a girl as smart, pretty, and awesome as you.”
“Ash… Seriously.” I could still hear the smile in her voice. “I want to see you again.” I grinned like a madwoman. “It’s just...not easy.”
“I understand.” I wasn’t certain I could, but I was certainly trying. “Whatever you need, Lor. How do you want to do it? Our schedules are kinda dissimilar these days. I can’t stay out until dawn talking any more.” I remembered when we had, though.
“Oh…” Her tone said she remembered too. “Yeah. Well, we just have to go somewhere that’s open all night, and set an alarm to make absolutely sure we can get you back in time.”
“Well, we can’t go to Golden Gyro.” That was the late night place I’d literally served tables at until I died. “And I’m tired of the Pancake Hut.”
“Go there often?” Was that a tinge of jealousy? I didn’t mind in the least.
“Yeah, I go there all the time. And watch Charles eat.” I grinned into the dark, listening to her laugh, music to my ears. Meanwhile, a tension built steadily in the outside air, my daily apprehension mounting as my supernatural strength started to ebb and my joints stiffened. “I love you, Lor. I don’t want to, but I gotta go.”
“Okay.” She paused, probably thinking. “I’ll Google some twenty four hour places and text you tomorrow. What about Thursday night? I need some sleep for my big interview.”
Three days away. That was fine; I had things to deal with anyway. My heart raced—figuratively speaking—even as fatigue began to set in. “Why worry? Unless they’re stupid, they’ll hire you.”
I didn’t have to see her to know she was smiling. “Yeah, well, don’t jinx me, okay?”
Dawn threatened to break, and I weakened. But I didn’t want to go. I just wanted to listen to her voice until the morning light took me away. But I was too scared to ask. “Look, I gotta go.” My voice was harsh, my eyelids grew heavy, and my body followed. But I persevered. “I love you, Lori.”
I waited, suspended in pregnant silence. Finally, the reply came. “You too, Ash. Good night.”
Above the sheltering stone, the sky caught fire, carrying me into oblivion.
CHAPTER SIX
Long-distance intimidation
I opened my eyes to Monument Valley.
But I wasn’t awake.
I couldn’t be.
The pitch black sky twinkled with alien constellations, and towering obelisks strained toward them as if trying to puncture the void.
I levered myself to my feet, looking around at the rolling hills and gray, dry grass, peering between the densely packed stone memorials. I didn’t feel strength and magic flooding me though, not like normal. Without it, I felt oddly vulnerable.
Well, this wasn’t right. Strigoi didn’t wake during the day, and we sure as hell didn't dream.
I scanned the environment. Just like every other time, the Valley Next Door was as silent as death, and inhabited only by the same. Everything looked the same, each detail as creepy and foreign as it ever was. Even the unseen watcher was here, somewhere, its cryptic vigil burning a hole between my shoulder blades.
Rustle, rustle. A faint sound stood out in the sonorous, ringing silence.
I whipped around, joints creaking.
Tiny eyes peered at me from just past the edge of one of the massive monuments. I nearly jumped out of my skin, squawking hoarsely in startlement. They disappeared.
“Hey,” I rasped, inching that way, peering against the dark. Just because my skin was crawling and my imagination was creeping me the hell out, didn’t mean that the tiny watcher was hostile. “Who are you?”
Wait. Why can’t I see through the dark?
Even as I froze, puzzled and halfway to flipping out, the eyes reappeared. Small, hazel eyes that gleamed in the dark like an animal’s, backed by a shadow that came to my waist.
This probably isn’t good. I started looking for a stick or something, just in case.
Movement in the shadows yielded a bundle of dirty, tangled rags, shining hazel eyes that seemed lit from within, a pale face, and scraggly blond hair.
It was a child.
It took me a moment to process, and the little figure drifted closer. “Uh, hey! Are...are you okay?” I rasped. Against my better judgment, I knelt down, putting myself on a level with her. She didn’t look Fae, demonic, or otherwise alien; she just looked like she’d been through absolute hell.
From the finger-shaped bruises ringing her throat to the dirty smears and scrapes etching a horror story onto her waxy skin, it was a tale told clearly through accumulated abuse, and a part of me went rigid with anger. Her arms were pulled tightly behind her back, hidden in wrapped rags, and the hopeful, timid smile that cracked her face bounced off those glossy, gleaming hazel eyes, leaving them untouched.
“Whoa. You don’t look so good, sweetie. Who are you? How did you get here?” I didn’t mind kids, but I wasn’t particularly skilled at communicating with them, either. Meanwhile, the hair rose on the back of my neck, my gut clenching like it hadn’t in nearly a year.
She drifted toward me, rags whispering through the dry grass, closing the distance. Just when I made up my mind to move, she caught my eyes. “Ashley…”
How did she know my name? Why was she familiar?
“Ashley… Please don’t go…” The words echoed in the desolate, monument-ridden hills, pleading for me to hesitate, and I did.
The fragile little girl reached for me, arms extended as if for a hug, her hands full of knives.
No, not full of knives. Her fingers were the knives. Rusty knives, kitchen knives, skinning knives, butcher’s blades.<
br />
I recoiled, but it was too late; she reached for my face with those distorted hands. “Ashley, stay with me.” She smiled a pleading, sharp-edged smile.
The world Next Door went black. I could feel my flesh peeling away.
“Please… We need your help...”
I awoke with the setting sun, jolting upright, wiping at a cold sweat that didn’t really exist. Nor was my face actually sheared to tatters…though for an instant, my dead flesh felt almost raw. I couldn't catch my breath, then quickly remembered that it was normal.
It was hard to wrap my head around feeling that vulnerable again.
But more importantly, I’d seen little lost Maggie, and she wasn’t okay.
- - -
The thick-fingered hands around my neck tightened and shifted like a noose. It wasn’t very comfortable.
Hershel was a big guy. Not tall and relatively fit like Charles, but thicker, broader, and happily overweight in a way that hid a hefty layer of muscle. Size-wise, he dwarfed a scrawny-looking Ashley by at least one order of magnitude, probably two.
“Could you loosen up, please?” I rasped, a little on edge. Considering my background, I figured it was understandable.
“But I’m un-choking you. It’s part of the healing process.”
I eyed the big guy. A hint of a smirk, easily visible on his sun-tanned skin, shone through his wild, red-brown beard. Hershel was a self-described “neckbeard, immigrant, and social justice aficionado.”
He was also a faerie.
“Part of it,” I repeated. I relaxed the metaphorical chains a bit, letting a little of that Strigoi anger slip into my voice, letting him know I wasn’t messing around, that I was actually uncomfortable. “A necessary part?”
He sighed, chuckled, and loosened his grip a little. The strange sensation rippling through the ravaged side of my throat didn’t abate, though.
I didn’t know much about faeries or their cousins, changelings. I knew even less about the pure-blooded Fae, the Fair Folk. Our Next Door Neighbors. But if Hershel was anything to go by, they had really strange senses of humor.
Blood Red Ashes (Dying Ashes Book 2) Page 7
