Key to Justice

by Talia Gryphon

  “Shit, Jenna, you see me here with Kimber and everybody. I can’t tell you something private that only we know with a group of people around. I’m not Elizabeta. Is that who you’re afraid of?”

  Noises of fighting upstairs interrupted any response Jenna might have made.

  “The trap is sprung,” Osiris added unnecessarily.

  “Everyone up against the wall, away from the door,” Gillian ordered.

  “Garm, you shift with Pavel; we’ll keep Helgi and Daed as a surprise. It’s too damn small in here for two Wolves and a Bear, plus giant Vampires and, dear God, a Minotaur.”

  Garm obeyed her, taking position with Pavel in front of Jenna’s tiny room. Gillian stepped around them and in front of Aleksei.

  “No, piccola. Behind me.” He tried to move her out of the way, but she balked.

  “I’m armed. You get back. I will move when I need help. In fact, everyone without a projectile weapon, move behind us.”

  She pointed toward the wall, indicating they move right now, then leveled her guns at the stairwell. Daed mirrored her with his own two sidearms. Kimber was slightly out in front with her shotgun- flamethrower combo. Trocar, Dagr and Kelda all held ornate short bows. Behind them, Osiris, Aleksei, Vlad and Erzsébet waited to pull them out of the way, if necessary, and to take over the fight when needed.

  “Erzsébet, fight fairly. We do not want to become what Daily is,” Osiris reminded her.

  “Or what I was,” Vlad said under his breath. No one contradicted him.

  The fighting was coming closer. Odin’s battle cry reached their ears. Both Garm and Helgi tensed up.

  “Not yet, guys. They won’t kill him. They probably have sheer numbers in their favor if a lot of Vlad’s former army joined up with Daily. I can almost guarantee you that their goal is to capture, not to kill,” Gillian said softly.

  Aleksei stared at her in surprise. Outwardly she was perfectly calm. The guns she had pointed at the doorway were level and straight. Inwardly, he felt only a cold void from where her natural warmth should be. Her composed stance was putting everyone around her at ease. No one was tense; no one was anxious except, apparently, himself.

  The first group of their adversaries boiled down the stairs and into the room. Kimber lit them up with her flame gun, while Gill, Daed, Trocar, Dagr and Kelda peppered them with bullets and arrows. Pavel and Garm slashed with jaws and teeth at any body part that came into their range after being charbroiled or ventilated. Enemy Vampire, Shifter and Fey went down under the ex-Marines’ initial onslaught.

  “I thought we weren’t killing,” Erzsébet called out over the din.

  “I said they weren’t. I didn’t say anything about us not killing them first,” Gillian yelled over her shoulder.

  Abruptly the onslaught stopped. Gillian signaled for everyone to stay put and still, then waited a silent count of ten before nodding toward the stairs. Trocar, Kelda and Dagr stashed their bows, then pulled out all kinds of daggers and knives. Together they melted up the stairs ahead of the rest of the party.

  Gill caught Osiris’s eye and jerked her head toward Jenna’s room. He moved in a blur, scooped Jenna up in his arms and waited to go up last.

  Mentally she reached for Aleksei. “I don’t want you carrying Jen if Elizabeta is anywhere around. She’ll go for you or me first, and your hands need to be free.”

  He nodded to her. “I understand. Thank you for protecting me.”

  She ignored his attempt at sarcasm, moving forward, pushing Pavel and Garm out of the way. Kimber balanced the barrel of her gun on Gill’s shoulder as they crept up the stairs.

  “If you fire that thing next to my ear . . .” Gillian warned.

  “Bite me. I’m using you as a bipod,” Kimber snapped back.

  “Come up, Captain,” Trocar called.

  They all hustled up. Odin was alive, literally staked to the floor, not with wood but with metal spikes driven deeply into the flagstones. Hreidmar was elaborately tied up and suspended from an iron wall sconce. He was bleeding from a dozen wounds, alive and cursing heartily. His axe lay nearby. Evzen and Georg were nowhere to be found.

  “Too many of them. They took Evzen and the knight,” Odin gasped.

  He would have been strong enough to get himself loose if they hadn’t hit every segment of his arms, hands, feet and legs. With the spikes between his shoulder blades and hips, there was no leverage to push from. The Norse Lord looked a little like Gulliver, but pinned down by a dozen spikes rather than hundreds of tiny ropes.

  “I will free Odin if someone will help Hreidmar down.” Aleksei knelt by the Viking and began yanking out spikes, cauterizing each of the wounds with his saliva. It wasn’t pretty, but it was efficient.

  “Absolutely not. He was inept enough to get himself hung up like that; he can stay there.” Kelda stood beneath her husband with her hands on her hips. Knives bristled like spines from her hands.

  “Woman, this is not the time for grandstanding.” Hreidmar struggled, causing him to bounce against the wall.

  “Aye, it is, ya daft git. How is it that a royal of the Dwarves is hanging up like a smoked ham? Were there too many of them for you? By Vulcan’s forge, what have I married?” Kelda turned away, shaking her head.

  “Get. Me. Down!” Hreidmar bellowed at her.

  “All right, then. Stop being cross or I will be referring to you as ‘Oldfather.’ ”

  Almost nonchalantly, she flicked her wrist, sending a dagger through the rope that held him suspended.

  “No!” Hreidmar yelled.

  The blade struck home, the rope severed and Hreidmar plunged to the ground. Evidently Dwarves bounce. He sprang back to his feet, shoving the ropes off himself. With a scathing glare at Kelda, who grinned at him, he retrieved his axe and stomped toward the door, swearing under his breath.

  Aleksei had finished freeing and healing Odin in the meantime. He held out his hands helplessly to Hreidmar.

  “Will you let me . . . Hreidmar? Your wounds should be attended to . . .”

  “Piss off, lad; we have fighting to do,” Hreidmar growled at him, then yanked the door open.

  There was a soft giggle from the bundle of cloth in Osiris’s arms. The giggling got louder until full-throated guffaws ensued. The irrepressible Jenna was laughing.

  Her ex-comrades in arms joined her, leaving the rest of the party who weren’t former United States Marines ogling the sight of a badly wounded woman, a Grael Elf, two Humans and a Greek Shifter laughing their asses off.

  Gillian snorted, wiping her eyes. She ejected the spent magazines from her guns and reloaded. “Oh shit, that was funny. Glad to see you’re feeling better, Jenna. Let’s try to get out of here.”

  “Gallows humor,” Daed coughed out in explanation as he passed Aleksei.

  “I do not understand any of you,” Aleksei grumbled, following Daed out the door.

  Hreidmar gave a war whoop and ran forward, swinging his great axe. Gillian started firing almost immediately, pivoting around the corner of the doorway to make room for the rest of them.

  As predicted, there were more of Daily’s friends outside. The enemy formed a fighting gauntlet, pressing Gillian’s bunch between two groups, angled toward the Golden Lane, a tight row of small houses leading to the Old Royal Palace. Ages ago, craftsmen and artists lived here. Now it was a crowded aisle of shops and food vendors.

  Tourists were still wandering everywhere. Apparently most assumed this was some sort of planned, staged fight. They were smiling and taking pictures as they scattered out of the way of the attacking Paramortals. Gillian’s group was applauded as they were herded through the tiny alleyway.

  “Fight! Open up a hole in their ranks; they’re taking us to Daily!” Gillian yelled over the ruckus.

  She backed up to fight as close to Osiris as she could. He was still dangerously hampered, carrying Jenna the way he was.

  “Gilly, I can walk,” Jenna informed her.

  Gillian kicked a Vampire in the face wh
o ventured too close, then shot him point-blank through the eye. “You might be able to walk but you’re in no shape to fight. Let him carry you.”

  Things were definitely not going their way. The Old Royal Palace loomed closer and closer. If Daily had reinforcements beyond what they had already seen, he’d unleash them soon.

  “Trocar, Kelda, it’s magic time!” she yelled at the top of her lungs.

  Trocar was busy being an Elven Vegamatic: a whirling, black-clad blur with silvery knives. He heard her, finished killing the Shifter he was engaged with and vanished in plain sight. Kelda was confused until she saw Trocar’s disappearing act. She tossed a nod to Gillian and also vanished. Gillian knew her own people would recognize what was going on and act accordingly. They’d worked together long enough to understand subtle and no- so-subtle instructions.

  Gillian sent a frantic thought to Aleksei. “Pass it on to the other Vampires. If they swarm us like I think they’re going to, just surrender. Trocar and Kelda are loose. Hopefully they’ll get us out before we’re in real trouble.”

  “Understood,” Aleksei confirmed.

  Within a few minutes another large group descended on them, as Gillian had predicted. The sheer numbers were overwhelming. Their group was quickly captured; guns and bows were handed over. Hreidmar put up the most resistance until he noticed Kelda was missing. He relaxed and quietly handed over his axe. Gillian gave him what she hoped was a reassuring glance when he looked her way.

  They were marched into the Old Royal Palace, where Father Bartholomew Daily awaited them from his position on an ornate throne. Next to him, seated on an overstuffed footstool, was a smiling Elizabeta.

  “Gillian Key, we finally meet.” Daily smiled as she was dragged up to the front.

  “I’m sure it’s a real thrill for you,” Gillian replied dryly. She was scanning the room, looking for exits and possible entrances for more of his cronies. What she found interesting was the level of nervousness emanating from the little army behind him. Why were they nervous? Her group was certainly outnumbered and outgunned at the moment. Daily had the upper hand for the time being . . . Why the lack of faith in their boss?

  “You have no idea how thrilling it is.” Daily smirked at her.

  “What exactly did I do to you personally that has put a burr under your saddle?” Gill cocked her head at him.

  From where she stood and where he sat, she could tell he wasn’t particularly tall for a Master Vampire. At least, she was assuming he was a Master. A lesser Vampire wouldn’t have the level of charisma or glamour to attract followers from Vlad’s retinue. He was as attractive as most Vampires she’d seen, but something more was going on.

  Daily’s hair was dark brown, wavy and cut in a shoulder-length, fashionable manner. His eyes were deep, dark brown. It wasn’t the color but the fanatical gleam in them that concerned her. This was another Vlad Dracula: grandiose delusions, narcissistic. What made Daily dangerous, however, was completely different from Vlad’s paranoia. Daily’s problem came from his fanaticism. He was little more than a religious zealot, only now he had a Vampire’s magic to enhance his cause.

  Aleksei murmured to her mind, then cut off contact almost immediately. “You are correct, cara. He is a lesser Vampire than we are.”

  She was grateful for the knowledge but annoyed that it did nothing to improve their predicament. All of the Lords in her party—with the exception of Georg, who was only a Master—could kill Daily and Elizabeta with a single thought, though absolutely none of them would.

  Well, Vlad might, but based on his history, he probably wouldn’t either. He had liked toying with his prey too much. What good was having Lords, psychotics and vindictive knights around if they wouldn’t fight dirty once in a while?

  Scratch that thought, she reprimanded herself. None of her friends was that dishonorable.

  Daily’s voice butted into her thinking process as he wagged a bejeweled finger at her. “You have done nothing to me; however, your flagrant disregard of propriety between Humans and Vampires is a terrible example for everyone.”

  “Says who? You? I don’t remember asking your opinion nor needing your advice on how to conduct my life. If you have morality issues, Bart, work them out with your own therapist . . . or your own God.”

  “Bart” visibly flinched at her abbreviated use of his name. “You will not address me in that manner. My given name is Bartholomew. Father Daily is also acceptable.”

  “Then you will address me as either Captain Key or Dr. Key, Bartholomew. You sure as hell are not my father or even a priest. You lost the right to use that title when you decided required celibacy and obedience to your Church wasn’t your thing. There are men out there who have earned it through great personal sacrifice, diligent study and works of Faith.”

  Bartholomew turned absolutely purple. Gillian wondered for a brief moment if it were possible for a Vampire to keel over from apoplexy.

  “I am still a priest!” he managed to choke out.

  “Your Church says you’re not. I think I’ll go with their opinion.”

  “The Church.” He practically spat the word. “I’ve built my own Church. My followers are loyal to me. Only me. They recognize that the current Church is flawed. We are doing what we can to bring the flock over to right thinking again.”

  She decided that despite the overabundance of Vampire glamour, he was an aggrandizing little prick, no matter how attractive and brilliant he thought he was. Her eyes flicked to Elizabeta, who obviously thought her new boyfriend was pretty hot. The woman was positively drooling on his gaudy robes.

  “We?” Gillian asked sweetly.

  “Elizabeta and myself. She is proving most invaluable to me.”

  He favored the aforementioned woman with a leering glance, stroking a fingertip down her jawline. She practically swooned with adoration. Gillian wanted to barf.

  “Elizabeta in particular is happy to see you, Dracula and Aleksei. Now we have all the betrayers in one place. I honestly did not believe you would be quite so stupid or easily led, Captain Key.”

  “That’s your mistake, then, Bartholomew, believing we were lured here or tricked. We came for Jenna and we are leaving with her. You want to take this meeting beyond that and you will die.”

  Gillian was tired and pissed off, and she had to pee. Stating facts seemed the most efficient way to get through this quickly. She was not in the mood for a taunting contest with a Vampire, even if he was dressed up in pretty purple robes.

  Immediately after she said it, she realized her stupid hormones were instigating her temper to a new and exciting level. She hadn’t been this blunt since she was a raw recruit. Shit. Probably wasn’t a good idea to mention dying in a room full of fanatical Paramortals with their Grand Poobah sitting ten feet away. Oops.

  Now she was certain Daily was going to have an apoplectic fit. She’d never seen anyone turn that particular color and live.

  Daily’s Vampire command voice rang out. “Samir, kill her.”

  Samir? The same Shifter who had been snotty with her in Akabat? She felt a ripple across her empathy and spun to the left. Yup. It was the same Samir. She faced him squarely as he shifted into a man-sized, lean, powerful desert Lynx. He snarled at her and gathered himself for a pounce.

  “Hiya, Samir. Thought I told you to fuck off in Egypt.”

  As he leaped, Gillian moved, drawing the silver blade they hadn’t found from her boot and flicking it straight into Samir’s face. He dropped like a stone as it tore through his eye socket and into his brain. He lay twitching on the ground inches from her booted foot.

  “Seems your right-hand Kitty has a terminal condition, Bartholomew.”

  Gillian finally got it. Bartholomew Daily was a big fat Master Vampire chickenshit. The coward didn’t have the stomach for fighting. He wanted someone else to do it. If she had pissed Vlad off like that, he’d have torn her head off, patient or not. Vlad had been a lot of things in his day; “coward” wasn’t one of them.


  “Yeah, he’s got a big silver dagger stuck in his face.”

  Bless Kimber. She’d caught on as well.

  Daily went from purple to white in the space of a heartbeat. Elizabeta had her dainty hand up at her throat and was staring at Gillian in wide-eyed shock. She was as pale as Daily.

  “I’m going to kill that bitch.”

  Gillian whipped around to see Jenna on her feet next to her, breathing heavily.

  “Someone grab her before she hurts herself,” Gillian ordered.

  “No, Gill. I’m done. He seduced me, then kept me with him. I thought it was that Vampire thing . . . you know . . .”

  “Glamour?”

  “Yeah, glamour. But when I fought him, he drugged me. He sent her to me, and in the state I was in, I thought it was you torturing me every night. Oh, Gillian, I’m so sorry.” Jenna’s chocolate brown eyes were anguished.

  “Don’t worry about it. We’re here to get you out. If you were here of your own free will, I’d have let you be. Seeing you cut up in that room, I knew you were his prisoner.”

  “I want to kill her . . . and him.” Jenna turned back to the recoiling pair on the dais.

  “You may get your chance, but not now. We need to leave get you healed up, then we’ll talk about what to do next.” Gillian put a hand gently on her friend’s shoulder.

  “Burn her! Burn the witch!” Daily screamed.

  Behind them, the packed group of his followers sprang into action. There were dozens of braziers, candles, sconces and torches all around the throne room. Suddenly everyone in the room but them was holding something flaming. This was bad. Very, very bad.

  “Um . . . guys . . .” Gillian didn’t finish her sentence.

  Steel, flesh, bone and muscle collided with each other as her group formed a semicircle to defend herself, Kimber and Jenna. Shouts, snarls and growls of aggression overwhelmed the screams, sizzles and gurgles of death.

  “Hello, love,” a voice said right before a hand clawed for her throat.

  Sweeney. Shit. Where the hell had he come from? It was only honed instinct that saved her from instantly having her throat ripped out. Gillian found herself in the absolute last place she ever wanted to be: locked in hand-to-hand combat with a razor-wielding Vampire.