Golden Eagle (Sons of Rome Book 4)

by Lauren Gilley

  “Answer the question,” he said through a smile, in his real voice.

  The sound of it surprised her into stillness. “What the–”

  “Listen,” Alexei said. “I’m not going to go running back to Nikita with this. I’m nobody’s bitch, especially not his, the fucking uptight loser.”

  Jamie knocked their knees together under the table in silent reprimand.

  He ignored it. “Gustav has expressed interest in communicating further, if I wanted.” He produced the card Gustav had given him, the one he’d stashed up his sleeve before coming in. He hadn’t called, yet. He got shaky inside even now thinking about it; but it made for a good bluff. “He’s here, I know he is. Be a good doggy and run go tell him I’d like to chat.”

  Jamie gave him another whack with his knee.

  Hannah glared at him. It was honestly terrifying. Whatever happened tonight, he had no doubt she was currently putting him on her personal hit list.

  But she hissed, “Fine,” and motioned for Dante to let her up, which he did. “Wait here.” She stalked off down the back hall.

  “Do you have to be such a privileged jackass?” Jamie asked.

  “Yes.” Alexei’s attention shifted to Dante as he settled back in the booth, brows knitted. “Shit, now what?”

  Jamie made an outraged sound.

  Dante said, “This is your show, dear heart, we’re just along for moral support. What’s your plan?”

  Alexei bit his lip. He didn’t normally have to make plans. “I’m going to find out what the hell’s going on.”

  “And tell Nik,” Jamie said.

  Alexei rounded on him with a glare. “Stop being such a fucking Boy Scout. I’m going to find out, and then…I’ll go from there.”

  When he looked back, Dante nodded, supportive, if not outright approving.

  Hannah returned, looking even more sullen than before. “Follow me,” she commanded, and didn’t wait.

  Alexei had to scramble to catch up.

  He’d never been brave enough to visit the restrooms here, so he’d never seen this hallway; dim, a single, blue-tinted tube light flickering overhead. Other doors lined the walls, past the restrooms; sound came from behind some of them, muffled thumps and murmurs. He smelled sex, and sweat, but also blood – and worse things.

  “I thought this was just a bar,” he said, back of his neck crawling.

  Hannah didn’t answer.

  At the end of the hall, they reached a door marked Private, one with an impressive deadbolt. She knocked once, like a warning, and then opened the door and motioned for him to go inside. As he passed her, she growled, once, in the back of her throat. He tossed her his widest smile, fangs showing, before the ratcheting-up of his nerves froze the muscles of his face.

  He came to a halt in front of a desk. Hannah shut the door behind him.

  A dark room. That same, bluish light that infused the whole place persisted here, but even lower. He wasn’t sure a mortal could have seen his way to walk across the room, and he thought maybe that was the point.

  It was a pretentious desk; heavy wood with sharp corners, and thick molding along the bottom edge. The kind of desk movie villains used. To either side were chairs, couches, a wet bar along one wall, and some potted ferns that didn’t need much light. His gaze focused in on Gustav, though, who sat in a tall, ergonomic leather office chair, elbows braced lightly on the desk. He wore another immaculate suit; a blue-green shine of light along his heavily-gelled hair.

  He smiled. “I did give you a card, you know. You could have just called.”

  Alexei’s insides shivered. Maybe it was the cliched “dark lair” feel of the place, or, more likely, the fact that he’d never, thanks to his childhood illness, been forced to have these sorts of confrontational conversations. Before Nikita and Sasha had come into his life, he’d simply walked away from all things uncomfortable. He felt horribly in over his head right now.

  But he kicked his chin up, clothed himself in imperial superiority, and said, “I don’t like talking on the phone. May I sit?” he sank down into the available chair before permission was granted.

  Gustav nodded, smile quirking with amusement. “You may. What brings you here tonight, Alexei? Disagreement with your friends?” When Alexei lifted his brows, he said, “You smell of vampire, wolf, and human.”

  “Yes, well.” He crossed his legs. Then folded his arms. God, he was shaking, and trying not to show it. “I wouldn’t call them ‘friends.’”

  Gustav chuckled. “I admit: as I said before, given your reputation for keeping to yourself–”

  He had a reputation?

  “–I find it surprising that it’s Captain Baskin and his pack of all people you should choose to associate with.”

  Alexei thought of what he’d said last time - Pretty bold for someone who made a career serving your family’s murderers: a statement meant to rile him up, and twist his negative energy around on Nikita. He needed no reminder that Nik had been a Bolshevik; it wasn’t the sort of thing a person forgot.

  He frowned and said, “I’m not here to talk about Nikita. I have some questions for you.”

  Gustav’s brows lifted. “Sounds very official.”

  “Humans are being murdered. Being ripped to pieces by wolves. Wolves that smell like you, and like your Familiars.” He couldn’t breathe after he’d said it, stomach climbing up under his lungs and clenching tight.

  Gustav’s expression didn’t change. “Wolves that smell like me? You’ve scented the corpses, then? Followed the trails? You’ve done this yourself?”

  He managed a short, inadequate breath. Forced his hands to keep still in his lap, when he wanted to knot them together, just to find an outlet for his inner shaking. “Yes.”

  “You’re lying,” Gustav said mildly. “Lying to cover your Bolshevik friend, when all Bolsheviks have ever done is lie? You believed Captain Baskin when he blamed this on me and mine? You took his word at face value? A traitor to crown and country?”

  Alexei swallowed. His voice came out unsteady. “Nikita was always loyal to my family. He only pretended to be a Bolshevik; he did what he had to do to survive.”

  Gustav chuckled, low and dark. “Oh, sweet tsarevich. You don’t believe any of that – but you want to, maybe?” His brows lifted again. “All this being on your own has been difficult and frightening this past century. A hundred years with no family, and no friends. I can see the appeal of joining up with your fellow countrymen, regardless of their political affiliation.” He tilted his head. “How is it that Baskin hasn’t killed you yet? He loathes his own kind, as you well know. Why has he let you live?”

  “I already told you: he was loyal to my family.”

  “And I’ve told you that’s a lie. A tempting one, yes, but a lie all the same. He lied. Just as he lied about me being involved in the murder of human civilians. Why would I do such a thing? What would it gain me to send my wolves after mortals?”

  Alexei didn’t have an answer for that.

  Gustav knew it. He said, “Mortals walk into this bar willingly every night. A little compelling here” – he gestured with his hand – “and a sly word there, and they offer themselves freely for the use of the vampires here who need to feed. I myself have two wolf Familiars. Whatever would I need with blood? With humans out on the street, the ones you claim have been ‘torn to pieces’? Hm?”

  “I…”

  “Let me tell you something, Alexei.” He sat forward, expression growing earnest. “I met Nikita once, twenty years ago. On a sidewalk at Christmastime, him and his wolf, the scrawny blond one.” His lip curled. “And the hostility coming off of him that night. He hated me on sight. Hated me because of what I am. Vampire. Or maybe because I’m unabashedly German, and he thinks he’s still fighting the Great Patriotic War. The things he’s blaming me for, I haven’t done. You know I would have no reason to do them. So ask yourself: who is more likely telling the truth? The business man well-satisfied with his two Familiars, who
provides a safe haven for those of our kind? Or the mistrustful loner who wore the uniform of your mother’s killers?”

  Alexei had no answer, still.

  “Do not trust him,” Gustav said. “If you need help, you can come to me, but whatever you do: don’t believe a thing Nikita Baskin tells you.”

  20

  The dark hour before dawn saw Trina leaning back against the cold brick of the hospital, watching the garbage crew maneuver into the loading bay and back expertly up to the dumpster. She held a white paper bag, and a caddy of steaming, lidded coffees, and she watched her breath plume white up toward the security light overhead.

  She’d slept like hell, tossing and turning, until she’d finally dragged herself out of bed and decided action was better than stewing. In the sharp cold of early morning, she was no longer angry – but worried. Frightened, even. Not about Lanny – that was more or less a domestic issue at this point. But last night’s ridiculous happenings, domestic as they were, had driven home the point she’d been skirting around for days: whatever was going on in the city with feral wolves eating people – they were woefully unprepared to handle it. They were like kids playing Dungeons & Dragons, while there were very real dragons stalking their streets.

  She juggled the caddy and bag into one hand, pulled out her phone, and lit up the screen. She’d typed the number in earlier, while she was waiting in line at the bakery: the number off the slick black card Will Scarlet had given her.

  She took a deep breath, and another, vapor billowing against her screen. Her pulse hitched, and she pressed the call button, and waited.

  The other end rang twice, and then Will Scarlet, sounding totally awake, said, “Good morning, this is Scarlet,” voice smooth and pleasant.

  He was a stranger, but that calm tone, full of so much poise, eased her jangled nerves. “Hi. This is Trina Baskin. Detective Baskin. We met the other night.”

  “Ah, of course. Hello, Detective. I was hoping you’d call.”

  “To tell you I’d gotten Nik and Sasha onto your way of thinking?” she couldn’t help but say.

  He chuckled. “I do want to hear from them, too, but I’m glad to hear from you as well. Hopefully that means I didn’t make too terrible an impression at dinner.” When she didn’t respond right away, he said, “What can I help you with?”

  She felt a twinge of guilt for going behind everyone’s backs, but she pushed it down, and gave him a quick rundown of what they’d been dealing with.

  “Hmm,” he said when she was finished. “Ferals are not a naturally occurring phenomenon. They’re the product of a foul turning – not enough magic, or an incredibly weak spirit that fails to merge with the wolf.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “You have a mage in town.”

  No, she started to say, and then, we’ve got lots of stuff in this town, buddy. But then, she remembered what had happened before Virginia, Nik and Alexei’s trip to the Queens branch of the Institute, and her blood ran cold. A red-headed child, Nikita had said. A boy. And he’d put hands around his throat and killed him.

  “Detective?” Will prompted, because she’d been silent so long.

  “There’s a branch of the Ingraham Institute here in New York.”

  “Yes, I’m aware.”

  “They have a mage – or, had one. He kinda got murdered. But,” she rushed to add, anxiety ticking up by the second. “The ferals were around before that. They used them to lure Sasha into a trap. That’s how we ended up in Virginia in the first place.”

  “Did he have red hair?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That was Red’s brother. You remember Red?”

  Which meant Nik had killed the brother of one of theirs. “Shit,” she murmured.

  “It’s alright,” Will assured. “Red was never allowed to be close to any of her siblings. Raised like lab animals, I’m afraid.”

  Trina let out a shaky exhale. “Christ, this just gets more awful.”

  “Quite.”

  A thought struck. “Wait. Siblings? Plural?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Fantastic.”

  “Loath though I am to suggest killing my own kind, I’m afraid there’s only one solution for ferals such as these who’ve gone, well, even more feral. Who are killing. They must be put down.”

  “That’s Nik’s line of thinking. Now we just have to find them.”

  “Perhaps we could be of some assistance on that front.” He hid it well, but she could pick up on the thread of eagerness in his voice.

  Guilt spiked again. “Trust me,” she said with real regret, “help would be really appreciated right now…”

  “Ah.” He made a sound of comprehension. “I understand. Talk with your pack, first. I sense Nikita is very territorial.”

  She snorted.

  “Talk with them,” he said, “and call me back if they’re amenable to help. Much and I have a considerable amount of experience in this sort of thing.”

  “I’m sure you do.” She really wanted to dislike him, but she thought that was mostly out of loyalty to Nik and the rest of the pack. Nik’s clannishness had rubbed off on all of them. But Will was not only charming, but sincere. Reassuring. There was a steadiness about him that none of the other immortals she knew possessed. He was centuries old, and that was a large part of it; but he also seemed totally at peace with his place in the world. With his pack. Their small group, by contrast, was a hot freaking mess. “Thanks, Will.”

  “You’re quite welcome.”

  She tucked her phone away, and sipped at her coffee, feeling slightly less rattled. It wasn’t until now that she realized she’d been drowning; Will was a lifeline, maybe one the others would refuse to reach for, but, still. It was good to know there was help out there, waiting to be called on.

  Until he goes home, an oh-so-helpful voice chimed in at the back of her mind, and then it was worry all over again.

  The garbage truck had long since gone, and the coroner’s van had arrived, techs in white jumpsuits going around to the rear doors, when Harvey walked up, wool pea coat buttoned up over her scrubs, scrolling furiously through something on her phone.

  She glanced up just before she reached the door, spotted Trina, and startled hard, halting and gasping. She frowned. “Jesus Christ, you scared me to death.”

  Trina lifted the bag. “I brought muffins and coffee.”

  Harvey stared at her a long moment, still frowning. Then sighed and said, “You on the rocks with Lanny?”

  “No,” Trina said, too-defensively.

  “Uh-huh. Come on. I can take five minutes to eat.”

  They went in to Harvey’s office, where a low couch made up with a rumpled blanket and pillow gave evidence to the nights she didn’t make it home from work. She flipped on lights and woke up her computer, and let Trina slide her a coffee and a double chocolate chip muffin on a napkin. She tore into it right away, with the air of someone used to scarfing down food in the hurried moments between autopsies.

  “I wouldn’t say ‘rocks,’” Trina said, picking at her own muffin. “But things aren’t exactly good.”

  “Not to be unsupportive, but I’ve got to point out that I’m not exactly brimming with helpful relationship advice. Kinda married to the dead, here.”

  “No, I know.” Trina gave up and set her muffin down on the desk. “And I’m not trying to dump my stupid romance problems on you. On anyone. I mean – look at what’s going on. What kind of idiot would be worried about romance right now?”

  Harvey tilted her head. “You’re allowed to worry about it. It’s a huge part of your life. Or so other people tell me.” She flashed a tight, self-deprecating grin.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I…” She pushed both hands back through her hair and knotted them together at the back of her neck. Groaned. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.”

  “A relationship?”

  “Being the only human in my pack.” When Harvey’s brows went up, she said, “Yeah,
saying that aloud to regular people sounds super weird. I just…how is this my life?” She shook her head. “Ignore me. I’m feeling sorry for myself.”

  “You know,” Harvey said after a moment. “I hear, just in general, that’s it’s normal to have doubts. Growing pains. I’d imagine growing with Lanny would be more painful than with most.”

  Trina sent her an appreciative smile. “I think I thought, after Virginia, that things would go back to normal. Except for Lanny being a vampire. But I don’t actually have any idea what normal is. And I think being a vampire invites a kind of trouble most people never deal with.”

  Harvey brushed the crumbs from her fingers and dropped her chin in a cupped hand, gaze going thoughtful. “Have you considered: it’s not your job to keep anybody out of trouble?”

  Trina sent her a wry look, and tapped her nails against the badge on her belt.

  “Yeah, but the badge comes off, and then what are you? Everybody’s mom?”

  “Wow. Harsh.”

  “You can only help Lanny as much as he’ll let you,” Harvey said, unrelenting. “After that, he has to want to be a good person. Or, at least a responsible one. You have to decide what you can and can’t live with, and go from there.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “I told you I wasn’t good at this.”

  “No, no. You’re right.” Trina slumped back in her chair, tired though the day hadn’t even officially started yet. “Hey, would it be possible to bring someone else by to see the vics’ remains? If I need him to, I mean.”

  Harvey rolled her eyes. “Lord, deliver me from storybook creatures. Yeah, sure. What’s one more?”

  A young under-coroner in blue scrubs came to knock tentatively at the door and tell Harvey – with polite hesitance – that it was time for the first autopsy of the day.

  “Gotta keep the kids on their toes,” Harvey said, a touch smug, as they got to their feet.

  Trina bid her goodbye, trashed her half-eaten muffin, and went back out the heavy auto-locking metal door. It was still dark. Over the building tops, she could just make out the barest thread of pinkish light. Dawn would be along soon, but the air was at its sharpest. She zipped her jacket, shoved her hands in her pockets, and headed off down the sidewalk toward the precinct.