by Cate Corvin
“That’s very kind of him.” I couldn’t grudge the Paladin anything at all. Not if he was offering my mom a place to be safe and happy.
I kissed her forehead and went to find him shortly after that. He was in the kitchen, the doors flung open to reveal the last of the fading red sun. I felt it like an itch on my skin, but it wasn’t enough to truly hurt.
Christian looked up from his cup of tea and saw the look on my face. “I see you’ve spoken to her. There are no strings attached to this offer. This is part of my vocation, dear.” He stirred a silver spoon in the cup, and it clinked gently in the quiet. “We take in the lost and give them an anchor.”
“I just wanted to say thank you. She deserves somewhere quiet to heal from everything.” I slid onto a stool across from him and crossed my arms on the island. “I don’t think this is the end. She was on quite a few medications, and she’s not going to be magically cured just because she had a near-death experience.”
“All taken care of,” he said comfortably. “We live near a human town called Proserpina’s Pass. Everything she needs is there. And before you even mention it, money is no object, so don’t say a word.”
I stared at him, my brow creased. “How did you live this long by being so nice?”
Christian smiled at me, dunking a cookie in his tea. “You’d be surprised how many Shadowed Worlders will come to your defense if you’ve been kind to them.”
Well, that was a lesson I’d learned the hard way. Being a judgmental asshole had netted me nothing but misery until I looked under their skin to the people beneath.
“How long is she allowed to stay?”
“As long as she wants.” He munched his cookie, humming contentedly. “If I should die sooner rather than later, the next Paladin will abide by the sanctuary we’ve given her until she chooses to leave.”
I think he understood how much weight he was taking off my shoulders, a heaviness that felt like a mountain, but I didn’t want to embarrass him by getting all sappy. He’d done far more than I’d hoped for. “Thank you. Once I’m settled in my place, if you ever need anything, you know who to call.”
One of his fuzzy white eyebrows popped up. “See?”
Hell, if Christian Westenra called me tomorrow to come settle a dispute, you bet your ass I’d be there. And he’d done it by offering us comfort and understanding first. “You win this round, Paladin.”
He got up from his stool with a groan and took his teacup. “I’ve got an appointment with my sitting chair and a good bestiary, but there’s one last… member of my household, you could say, who would like to speak with you before you leave.” Christian paused in the doorway. “Or rather, you could say he is the household, so to speak. Good luck with your journey, Victoria. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
“Pleasure to meet you, too,” I mumbled, feeling very concerned about what he meant. Was the household? Was Heartfall a sentient being?
The last of the sun died away, and the kitchen lights flicked off, leaving me in darkness. The French doors were wide open to the courtyard outside, and a moment later, the crickets went silent.
A shadow rose from the flagstones, materializing into the hulking shape I’d seen in the library.
Out there, he was much clearer: he was a man, topping eight feet tall and strangely incorporeal. He seemed to be standing in a cloud of black smoke, wisps breaking free and fading into the air, and tiny stars flared and died in the darkness surrounding him.
Crowned in Blood. Come.
And he was bossy. I supposed if I was an angel, I might feel entitled to a little bossiness as well.
That didn’t stop the slight curdle of fear in my stomach. I saw his wings, ebony and streaked with colors like an oil slick. I couldn’t imagine wings that size unfurling. They’d blot out the sun.
My feet felt like lead as I crossed the threshold into the courtyard, into a bubble of silence, another world where angels still existed.
“Are you… Heartfall?”
His head cocked to the side, an almost animal gesture. No. I am Ophiel, the heart of this place.
“Um. Pleased to meet you.” What the hell was I even supposed to say to an angel, for fuck’s sake? Nobody else was around. Maybe I’d finally gone insane and was having a vivid hallucination.
The pleasure is mine.
His mouth wasn’t moving. Ophiel was speaking inside my head. Great. Glad to know my brain was no longer a private place.
We have a vested interest in seeing a new monarch in the Clouded Court. If you face Thraustila alone, you will die.
Oh, cool. He was also an optimist. “I don’t see what other choice I have. My bloodsingers and sisters will back me.”
They will. I sense the bonds of loyalty between you. But you are new to this world and weak.
I shifted in place. If he were a human, I might feel annoyed, but the weight of his presence pressed down on me. I felt him in the atmosphere around me, like a localized area of pressure. If anyone could call someone else weak without being insulting, it was an actual angel. “Do you have any advice, then? I can’t help being a fledgling.”
I have no advice, but a gift. A huge, long-fingered hand, pale as moonlight, materialized out of the curling smoke. He held a tiny vial with a silver loop on the end. I wondered if there was an award for ingesting the most Shadowed World bodily substances in a lifetime as I reached out to take it, my head pounding from his very presence.
I held the vial up to the light of the rising moon. Several small drops rolled in the vial like beads of mercury, glowing with their own internal light.
My blood. Enough to see you through your task.
I wondered if three drops would be enough to help me at all, then realized I’d spoken aloud when Ophiel smiled.
Any more would change you into something… other. I will not risk unleashing such a creature on the world. Drink it only when you have direst need.
I unclasped my Fae necklace, and slid the vial onto the chain. It would be safe with me until I needed it… whenever that dire time might be. “Why give me your blood at all? What do you get out of this?”
He sighed, a sound I heard in my head as well. Ophiel was already fading. I could see the gardens right through him.
Atonement.
Christ, he was almost gone, and I’d forgotten my manners. “Thank you, Ophiel.” The angel nodded and dissipated entirely. When the last stars falling from his wings had faded, I heard the scuff of a footstep on stone.
My singers were all waiting for me. Ophiel’s crushing presence had drowned out all other sounds, including the bloodsongs.
Will’s mouth was slightly open, and Suraziel looked stricken. Only Càel seemed pretty much at ease with the fact that we’d just seen something no one else on this earth had ever laid eyes on.
“I have angel blood,” I announced, feeling stretched thin at that particular moment.
Càel stepped forward and took my arm, guiding me into the circle. “A fallen angel, but yes. I would tell you that you’ll never drink anything finer, but you have me, so that’s untrue.”
“Does anything ever faze you?” Will demanded. His arm slid around my waist. At least we could feel shaken to the bone together.
Càel considered that for a moment. “No.”
“Well, this adventure has been really exciting and all, but I’m perfectly fine with getting off the crazy train now.” Suraziel reached out to touch my cheek. “I draw the line at archangels. We’re not going there. My poor infernal brainmeat couldn’t handle it.”
“You’ll be fine,” I said. “Besides, I think one angel is more than enough for a lifetime. I felt like I was about to burst.”
“Do you think if a person was around enough of them at once, their head would just implode?” the incubus wondered. “Is Heaven just a city full of people turning into water balloons? No, wait- blood balloons.”
“Yum.” Càel was thinking about that a little too speculatively, in my opinion.
�
�Hey.” I gripped his shirt. “I think the whole point of Ophiel giving me his blood was so that we don’t have to deal with a certain maniac who likes turning people into blood balloons, and we need to go handle his ass right now.”
“We’re already on it.” Will kissed my cheek before turning me over to Càel, then Suraziel. Like the moment that I’d kissed him before he’d headed into Godalming Manor, when I’d thought there was the very real danger that Percival might kill his own son, I felt like it was a last kiss of sorts. A last moment of quiet before the storm.
As soon as we stepped through the liminal gate, everything would change. Shelter would be a distant dream.
We cut through Heartfall, which had gone quiet for the night, and thankfully there was no further sign of Ophiel. I appreciated his gift, but his presence was just… too much.
Mom, the Paladin, and Arkomoch waited for us by the liminal gate.
“You be careful and let me know you’re safe as soon as possible,” Mom said in my ear, her arms wrapped around my neck. I hugged her back and took Christian’s hand when she released me.
“Thank you all so much,” I said fervently, hearing my singers give their own thanks.
“Good luck,” Arko said, lounging next to the gate. “Keep up the good work. Girl power!” He pumped his fist in the air.
I was pretty sure at this point that Korso was the anomaly, and no other demons were capable of taking anything seriously.
Suraziel confirmed this by shooting finger guns at Arko. Then they fist-bumped and a burst of green hellfire exploded between their knuckles.
“Wow.” Will shook his head.
“And that’s how you explode.” Suraziel waggled his fingers. “Come on, Will. You know you want to.”
I expected him to turn it down, but Will sighed, punched Arko’s fist, and the hellfire exploded again.
“My knuckles are scorched,” he said, looking at his reddened hand.
“A gift from me to you.” Arkomoch patted his shoulder and loped away, presumably to do the dishes or something else he hated.
“I should send him a frilly pink apron for his birthday.” Will shook out his hand, and we gathered in front of the gate.
“Oh, I think he’d be delighted with that,” Christian said with complete sincerity.
I turned to wave at Mom and the Paladin as Will cut his hand and reached for the gate, searching for the door to Libra Academy. She waved back, bundled in a thick sweater and looking at ease next to Christian.
A moment later, the Morrígna came from Heartfall. They’d ditched their human clothes for vampiric armor, thin plates of dull, dark metal and fish-scale chainmail. They joined us silently. Morgrainne had painted her blue spirals back on, and Rhianwen’s long hair was tied back in a braid. Suraziel pulled his glamour back on, taking the face of Sura Enver once more.
Several fraught moments passed where nothing happened, and Will’s jaw jutted forward. He gripped the gate hard enough that the tendons in his hand stood out, and a moment later the darkness bloomed in the center, spilling out to fill the doorway.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, took Càel and Suraziel’s hands, and we all stepped through the door.
I blinked. We stood in a room devoid of anything but the liminal gate, and Headmaster Burns waited for us, his hands clasped behind his back. He took in me, Will, and Suraziel first, then Càel, and finally the two armored Morrígna.
“I would say welcome, but there is little welcome about inviting a warband into my school.” I couldn’t even be insulted. Would I want a crew like this in my school if I was in his shoes? Probably not. “With that being said, we’re willing to reach out to allies given the extenuating circumstances of this situation. The rules I gave you before remain in place for my students. They are not to be touched.”
“Nice to see you, too,” Suraziel said.
“We won’t go near them,” I promised. Shit, I was going to have to start speaking for the group, or Morgrainne would be right: no one would respect me. “But we do need to speak to Apolline Moreau right away.”
“I assumed that’s what you returned for.” Burns touched the liminal gate and it went quiet, becoming nothing but a metal frame once more. “You’re free to question her, and I wish you good fortune, though you’re unlikely to find it. Her throat has been broken.”
Fifteen
Suraziel
I never thought I’d find it in me to feel pity for Apolline Moreau. She’d been a terrible girlfriend to Will, an awful friend to everyone else, and she’d had it out for Tori, which meant she could fuck off as far as I was concerned. If you were shitty enough to make a demon hate you, well, that meant you were pretty much a dumpster fire of a human being.
But when we saw her twisted form in the cell Burns had incarcerated her in, I felt a twinge of compassion.
If she was really Thraustila’s bloodsinger, she’d gotten a raw deal. Better to be anyone else’s singer but his.
I drew closer to Tori, feeling the need to be near her. Thank Satan Càel wasn’t like his Maker. If he’d ever touched her like this, I would’ve killed him or died trying.
Apolline sat up on her small cot, eyes red-rimmed, old blood smeared across her mouth and cheeks. She looked alarmed by the sight of four vampires, Will, and me, as she probably should. No one here had an interest in her well-being.
Tori strode up to the bars, wrapping her fingers around them. “Apolline. Can you speak at all?”
Even a whisper would be better than nothing, but Apolline shook her head, opened her mouth, and let out nothing but a reedy croak.
Tori sighed. Her forehead was creased in a frown. “You shouldn’t have gotten involved with him. Don’t tell me you didn’t know the kind of vampire he is.”
Apolline shot her a dirty look while shivering. I took a deep breath, tasting the air. The summer sweetness of pixie dust was mixed with the burnt sugar tinge of incubus saliva. She must’ve been stuffed with the dust before she’d been imprisoned.
“She’s having withdrawals,” I told Tori quietly.
The queen of the Clouded Court considered Apolline. I felt her emotions in a tangled knot: sympathy, disgust, anger. Of everyone here, she had the most reason to hate Apolline.
“Of course she is. Cramming dust in her face was the only thing that mattered to her.” Tori’s anger came out in her voice, sharp as a knife. “Enough to fuck over everyone else around her. You were the woman with Thraustila when he tried to set a hellhound on that slayer. And you did nothing to prevent it.”
Apolline just stared at her. Dark bruises of exhaustion filled in the hollows around her eyes.
Tori reached into her jacket pocket, pulled something out, and flashed it at Apolline: the baggie of tainted dust she’d taken from Percival’s desk.
Almost instantly, Apolline was on her feet and lunging at the bars, snatching for the dust. Tori stepped back out of reach, hiding it in her closed fist. “You want it, you find a way to communicate. I’ll ask you yes or no questions. You can manage that much.”
Another thread of emotion from her: regret. She didn’t enjoy being cruel to Apolline, but the rogue slayer had been close to Thraustila for months now. If we wanted to know what he was doing now without his son and daughters, this was the way to find out.
“Were you there? Were you going to watch him murder her?” Tori’s voice had gone tight.
Apolline scowled, open her mouth and grimaced, then nodded.
“You...” Tori took a deep breath and cut herself short. “When you met Thraustila, was it for the dust?”
Apolline hesitated, then shook her head.
“Did you want him to Make you?”
Another shake.
“Why, then? What could he have done for you otherwise- besides give you all the blood sport your shriveled little heart could want?”
Apolline’s lip curled, but her eyes were focused on Tori’s fist. She pressed a swollen, scratched hand to her chest, patted her heart,
then raised it to her head and made a twinkling motion near her ear. I realized she was trying to mime music. A song.
Everyone else came to the same conclusion. Càel was not nearly as reticent about holding back his feelings as Tori was.
“You are not his bloodsinger,” he said flatly. “No vampire would treat their singer like this. He told you what you wanted to hear, and you ate it up.” Apolline’s face fell, tears welling in her eyes.
“All this, just because you wanted to be someone important.” Tori’s lips had thinned in her anger. “Fine. I know you’ve seen Thraustila’s warehouse in the subway tunnels. Have you seen more of it than that?”
Apolline nodded, resting her forehead glumly on the bars of her cell.
“Have you been to the Cerberian Gate?”
This time the captive shuddered when she nodded, and it wasn’t just a withdrawal shiver. Cerberian Gates weren’t really a pretty sight at the best of times.
“Is that warehouse his only storage?” A nod.
“Is Gwendoline still around?” Another nod.
“Does he have Fae working for him?”
This time Apolline paused before she shook her head, but the resignation in her eyes told us she was truthful. The only Fae Thraustila had were the ones he was farming out for dust.
Tori expelled a breath. “Is he still in the Clouded Court?” Apolline nodded, and she shut her eyes when Tori asked her the next question. “Will he come for you?”
She shrugged. It was a hopeless little slump of her shoulders that said everything.
“She’s confirmed nothing we don’t already know.” Morgrainne’s rasp cut through the tension. “Let me in. I’ll get her talking again.”
Apolline backed away until her legs hit the edge of her cot.
“We can’t torture people, Morgrainne.” Tori looked at Apolline thoughtfully. “I don’t think Christian and Ophiel would’ve had much faith in me if that’s how I was going to begin my reign. Has Mater Dolorum healed you yet?”
Apolline realized Tori had asked her something and shook her head, still eyeing Morgrainne.
