by Cat Adams
Lars, still the image of Olga, moved to help me, but Sergei intercepted “her,” apparently intending to protect her from the violence. His mistake. Lars flung the other man aside as if he were made of feathers. Igor grabbed Arkady, probably intending to do the same to him. But the prince felled Igor with a single blow. Still, in the moment it took him to do that, Lars was upon him. Evenly matched, the two began fighting in earnest, moving away from me. I rolled to my knees as I drew a weapon, knowing even as I aimed that I was too late. Dahlmar and Igor were both in motion, but everyone was moving so slowly.…
With a triumphant cry, Anton prepared to throw the spell ball onto the floor to break it.
He hadn’t counted on Adriana. No one had. Despite all the turmoil around her, she had remained calm. She had pulled my derringer from the holster at her ankle; now, even as Anton laughed, she flicked off the safety and fired.
She hadn’t taken time to aim and she was unfamiliar with the gun, but the bullet hit the old priest squarely in the center of his mass. Anton shrieked in agony as blood blossomed like a hideous flower in the middle of his torso, spreading in a rapid stain over the white and gold of his ceremonial robes.
It was a shot that would kill, but not instantly. With the last vestiges of his strength, the old man tried to fling the spell ball to the floor. Dahlmar grabbed his arm, wrenching the little ball from his hand. Anton fell, dying, onto the cold marble floor that was already slick with his blood.
I turned away. That part of the fight was over. Drawing a One Shot from its slot in my jacket, I watched Lars and Arkady’s struggle and waited for my chance. When I saw an opening, I aimed a stream of holy water directly at Arkady’s face.
He shrieked in shock, pain, and rage, the illusion magic of a demon spawn ripped away by the impact of holy water. Lars was splashed as well and his true form suddenly shredded Olga’s bridesmaid’s dress.
Dropping the One Shot, I drew my Colt. From the corner of my eye I saw Igor draw a weapon from beneath his jacket. Adriana was also taking aim with my derringer. A tiny part of my mind was free to be amused, imagining the picture we made. “Freeze or die.”
They froze. With my mind I sought, and found, John Creede’s thoughts, not far away. John, it’s Celia. Is Prince Arkady with you? I’ve got a spawn here in the church.
He sounded surprised at the clarity of my mental voice and confused, like I should know what was going on. Sure, he’s here. He suggested using an imposter, said he didn’t trust security with so many people in the church. He told me he was going to tell you and the other bodyguards.
Yeah, right. His spawn just attacked me as part of an attempt on Dahlmar and Adriana. The scene is secure but the bride and groom will need to clean up a little before the public ceremony.
The language Creede used in my mind wasn’t polite, but it was certainly colorful. The real Arkady was going to have some explaining to do. Are you all right?
It hurt to swallow and my head was swimming a bit, but by God I was alive, so I wasn’t about to complain. I will be. Don’t let Arkady go anywhere, okay? I want to have a little chat with him, and I know King Dahlmar will, too.
John’s voice in my head was filled with dangerous outrage. Don’t worry. He’ll be right here.
While I’d been talking with John, Natasha’s father had moved away from where he had been shielding her with his body. Feliks knelt beside his fellow priest and began muttering prayers in Ruslandic. I realized that some of the pounding in my head was pounding on the church doors; Lars opened one just wide enough to admit Gunnar Thorsen. Igor smiled at me as the door opened and said, “No one outside will see anything.”
Igor bound the fake Arkady, using fetters handed to him by Thorsen, though where Gunnar been carrying them inside his well-fitted suit, I had no idea.
Dahlmar and Adriana simply stood, holding each other, as Natasha and a red-faced, embarrassed Sergei looked on. Now what? We had a captive, a corpse, and the world waiting for a wedding. If the public found out what had happened, there’d be outrage at the violation of the sanctity of the church. We had a few minutes, at best, to figure out some way to salvage this debacle. I thought furiously, trying to come up with some sort of solution.
King Dahlmar’s face was lined with worry, probably for his rotten brother. I could at least reassure him about that. “Your brother is fine. He’s with John Creede. John will keep him safe and close by so we can question him and see if he’s involved.” Honestly, I was thinking he was. He was Olga’s father and she’d been in this up to her eyeballs. Yes, she could’ve done it without him. But putting a spawn in his place without advising the king looked awfully fishy, and not just to me. I could tell from Igor’s expression that he was looking forward to spending some quality time with the prince.
Dahlmar’s reaction, however, was relief so pure that his body sagged with it. He loved his family. A lot of them hadn’t deserved it, but he loved them. I felt his pain.
“What do we do about the wedding?” Natasha asked. “It must proceed … but this—” She gestured at the mess we’d made of the vestibule.
She had a point. Suddenly I remembered Adriana’s vision. This was the room. Now was the time.
“Adriana, Dahlmar, kneel back down on the kneelers.”
They looked at me as if I were insane. And not just for breaking protocol by not using the king’s title.
“Please?”
“What are you thinking, cousin?” Adriana asked suspiciously.
“This is the place we saw in your vision in the mirror. If that vision was accurate, there’s a secret room somewhere close at hand. We can hide the evidence until after you’re safely married.”
She gave me a doubtful look before meeting Dahlmar’s eyes. Face set with grim determination, he strode back to the kneeler and took his place. Seconds later, she joined him. She took a breath and her eyes unfocused for a moment; I guessed she was recalling the details of the vision. Then, as she had in that vision, Adriana reached out to press the small protuberance at the base of the kneeler.
With the grinding of stone upon stone, a door appeared in the far wall, behind the display of votive candles.
Everyone turned to stare at me in wide-eyed wonder. Even Igor looked impressed. Wow. Alrighty then. Trying not to act too startled that my shot in the dark had worked, I poked my head into the secret room. “Gunnar,” Adriana ordered, “go with her. Let nothing harm her.”
I waited for Thorsen to join me and we went through the door, which was marked with an ornate cross that matched the one Adriana wore.
It was a small room, not much larger than a walk-in closet. The walls were the same white marble of the church foyer; three of them were lined with shelves. At the sight of what rested on those shelves, all I could think was whoa.
“Impressive,” Thorsen whispered. Whispering seemed proper, for the shelves were filled with treasures. There were paintings, many wrapped in cloth, others left bare; jewel boxes and caskets; crowns; gold and silver altar implements—all crowded together without any kind of order.
Dahlmar started to rise, and I heard the faint creak of stone. “Um, please don’t. I don’t want to get trapped in here.”
He growled in frustration but didn’t move. “I want to see!”
Remembering my quick history lessons about Rusland, I answered, “It’s the missing state treasures, Your Highness. The ones that disappeared during the war. I’m guessing that all of them are here.”
We stepped back out of the room. The minute we did, King Dahlmar rose. Smooth as silk, the cross slid back into place, concealing the door so perfectly I would never have guessed there was anything unusual about the wall. The craftsmanship was amazing. So was the concealing magic. As a paranormal creature, I can usually sense all kinds of magic, but I’d never have twigged onto this. Wow. Just, wow.
From the look on his face, King Dahlmar was about to order someone to kneel so he could get a look inside the closet. Before he could say anything, though, I sp
oke up.
“Okay,” I said briskly. “I suggest we put the corpse and Arkad … whoever the spawn is, in the room until after the wedding. Um, Lars … would you mind watching over them? We can’t risk him getting away.”
Lars gave a brisk nod of agreement. With Thorsen present, I really wasn’t sure who was in charge, but everybody was still looking at me, so I kept talking, making up a plan as I went along. I said to Feliks, “If you will go ahead with the betrothal, I’ll use some of the cloths they wrapped the paintings in to clean up the mess as best I can.”
I took a good look at the bride and groom and realized that they’d both been spattered with blood when Adriana had shot Anton. On Dahlmar, it was mostly invisible—in a few spots the glitter of his medals was dimmed—but on Adriana’s lovely gown even a tiny scattering of red seemed screamingly bright and obvious. “Oh, there’s blood on Adriana’s dress.…”
“I have a beauty enhancement charm left,” Natasha said.
I blinked at her somewhat stupidly. She was gorgeous, why on earth would she need—
Sensing my confusion, she explained as she rummaged in the hidden pocket of her jacket. “You are both sirens. I am not. I thought I might need some help in such company.”
Sergei shook his head, his dark eyes bright. “You are perfect as you are, Princess. Then again, you always are.”
I raised an eyebrow at that one, but it certainly made a favorable impression on Natasha, judging by her blush. Then again, maybe he’d known her for years and was just now speaking up. How would I know?
“Thank you, Sergei.” Natasha shot him a smile as she handed the charm disk to Adriana, who wasted no time cracking it open. Immediately the stains on her wedding dress disappeared, as did the small wrinkles from where she had been kneeling. The lines of strain around her eyes disappeared as well. She looked perfect. It might be an illusion, but it was a damned good one.
What is taking so long, niece? Queen Lopaka’s imperious voice intruded on my thoughts. Normally she’s gentle, but now she was worried and irritated.
We’ve had a bit of a … complication. Everything is fine. But we need another minute or two, and Arkady and Olga won’t be attending.
There was a pause but then she answered smoothly. I will warn the musical director. You are sure Adriana is all right? Her voice in my head is very faint.
I looked at my hand. No wonder the queen had been able to reach me through the privacy shields. She gave me her ring.
Oh. The queen’s mental voice didn’t sound any too pleased about that. I hoped I hadn’t gotten Adriana in trouble with her mother. But I didn’t have time to worry about that now. As she’d so aptly pointed out, we were running late.
“Let’s go, folks. The queen just told me the natives are getting restless.”
King Dahlmar and Adriana knelt. The priest crowned them, wrapped their hands together with ribbon, and spoke his part very quickly before unwrapping their hands and moving out of the way.
Adriana hit the secret button again. When the door appeared, Lars and Thorsen dragged Anton’s corpse and the struggling spawn into the secret room.
Sergei, Natasha, and I set to work grabbing rags and cleaning blood from the foyer floor and furnishings.
The results weren’t perfect, but when we threw the bloodied rags into the treasure closet and closed the entrance, I looked around carefully. If you hadn’t known what had happened, you probably wouldn’t notice, particularly with the crowds of people that would be soon passing through.
“It will do,” Adriana assured me. “Now, everyone take your places.”
Igor came up beside me, taking my arm. “Do I look okay?” I asked.
“You look lovely,” he assured me. “No blood anywhere.”
“Oh good.”
35
The rest of the ceremony went off without a hitch. Of course there were questions raised about where Olga and Arkady had gone, but Igor lied beautifully, telling everyone that the prince and his daughter had insisted on standing guard over the newly discovered treasures. We’d actually left Gunnar Thorsen outside the secret room; Igor had cast an illusion on him to make him look like Prince Arkady.
It seemed like a thin excuse to me; after all, the treasures had been safely hidden for many years without anyone guarding them. But if anyone doubted Igor, they didn’t say anything. Probably because there were too many other things going on.
It was finally done. King Dahlmar and Queen Adriana were now fully wed in the eyes of the church and by the laws of both of their countries. I was out of a job and I couldn’t have been more elated.
Dahlmar and Adriana had left the reception early. By the smiles of some of the guests as the newlyweds departed, people thought they were getting an early start on their honeymoon, but I knew they were going to take care of questioning Arkady and to finish tidying up what had happened earlier. I expected Thorsen, Igor, and Creede’s people had already cleaned out the treasure closet and conveyed the hidden riches, the corpse, and the prisoner to their appropriate destinations. I wasn’t in the loop anymore and, God help me, I didn’t want to be.
I was done to the point of being crispy. I’d put on a good show during the church service and danced a couple of dances at the party, and I was more than ready to go back to my room, take the pretty pink pills Dr. Shablinski had given me, and try to sleep.
“You look like you need a drink, and you’re walking like your feet hurt,” Bruno observed as he led me off the dance floor.
“I do and they do.”
“Then sit. I’ll be right back.”
It sounded like such a wonderful idea I did just that. Hoping no one would notice, I reached down to slip off my offending footwear. The relief was immediate and intense enough that I closed my eyes and gave a deep, pleasurable sigh. A soft cough, and I opened my eyes to find Queen Lopaka and Gunnar Thorsen had joined me. Lopaka sank gracefully into the seat across from me. Gunnar stood over her protectively, making sure we could speak without interruption.
“I wanted to thank you in person,” the queen said, speaking softly enough that no one passing by could hear. I was honored by the fact that she spoke aloud, knowing that I preferred audible speech to voices in my head. Adriana’s gift to me hadn’t changed that—yet.
“It was my pleasure.” I smiled at her.
“I appreciate it more than you can know. My prophet tells me that Adriana and Dahlmar will be very happy and that he will live a long and prosperous life; when he dies, he will know that their grown son will safely ascend to the throne.” She smiled. “I am looking forward to being a grandmother, and I am delighted to see my daughter so joyful.”
“So am I.”
“Tell me, what can I do to repay you? Surely there is something.”
I thought about it for a moment. What did I want from the queen of the sirens?
The answer came to me. Something had been bothering me, nagging at the back of my mind since the interrogation of the man who’d tried to kidnap my grandmother. I was, at least in part, responsible for the hatred that had caused the Guardians of the Faith to be formed. My actions had been a catalyst. I couldn’t change the past. But I might be able to make amends for my part of what had happened. I at least needed to try.
“I need to know something.”
“Yes?”
“When a mind is broken by siren power, can it be fixed? Can they ever be normal again?”
The light left Lopaka’s face. I felt her mind focus on mine. Why do you ask this, niece?
Oh, she was not happy. She didn’t want to show it, not in the middle of the reception, so she’d switched to mental speech. I felt bad. This was a party, a celebration, and I was ruining it for her. Never mind. I’m sorry. This isn’t the time. We can talk about it later.
No. Something is weighing on your mind and conscience. I want to help you with this burden if I can. Tell me.
So I did, mind to mind. I told her how my battle with Eirene had destroyed the minds of the men
we were fighting over, turning them into drooling idiots. I confessed that I’d been too ashamed, too afraid, to check on them, and that my actions and Eirene’s had been part of the root cause of the terrorist movement against the sirens.
I felt tears burn at my eyes as I confessed to her. I didn’t mean to harm those men. I want to fix it, to help them if I can. But I don’t know how. I don’t even know if it is possible.
She let out a slow breath and looked around the room as if seeking an answer. Celia, there were good reasons why we sirens retreated to our islands. It wasn’t just to protect ourselves. We were protecting humanity as well. Our powers can be very terrible. It is a great burden to try to use them wisely.
I was afraid of that. But if I could find those men, is there anything I can do for them?
I do not know. But if you wish it, we can try.
I do. Very much.
Then we will speak of this again. In a few weeks, after you’ve had a chance to recover.
Thank you.
You’re very welcome. She smiled. I see the mage DeLuca coming with your drinks. I believe I’ll leave you to his tender care.
Bruno was coming all right, and he wasn’t alone. Sergei and Natasha were behind him, holding hands. Gilda and Isaac Levy, along with Lars, brought up the rear of the little procession. Bruno toted a pitcher filled with what looked suspiciously like margaritas, and the rest were carrying plates of food, some of which it appeared they’d imposed on the kitchen to run through a blender.
Adriana’s ring pulsed on my finger and I knew without being told that they were all coming to cheer me up and to distract me from my troubles. It was very nice of them and I was sure they’d be terribly disappointed if it didn’t work.
