“I’ll send a messenger to the Council offices for information about when we can see them.” Maicǎ squeezed my arm closer to her. “There is a reason we have the Sight. You know this.”
“Yes.” I recited it from memory, from lessons given long ago, but still relevant. “We use the Sight that we might alter the paths we see before us. The future is not complete; destiny is never absolute.”
“Exactly. Remember that.” She stopped and hugged me before we stepped inside. “Now, we can both use some sleep.”
That afternoon, after several hours of sleep, Maicǎ and I sat on the bench outside one of the conference rooms in the Human-Fae Council Building, once known as the Palace of Parliament.
It had taken a long time for me to get to sleep after meeting with the Elders that morning. Even thinking about it now caused me to fidget on the hard, wooden benches we’d been sent to sit on to wait.
Maicǎ put her hand on my leg to still it from bouncing. Then she smoothed down the fabric of the formal skirt I had donned in order to appear more respectful than my usual leggings and tunic.
The door to the conference room opened, and Maicǎ and I stood, prepared to go in to tell our story.
Instead, the Council members who had been holding a meeting in the room streamed out in twos and threes, chatting with one another and avoiding eye contact with us.
Maicǎ stepped closer, and one of the Councilmen nodded, moving over to speak to her. “I was told I would be able to address the committee,” Maicǎ said sharply.
“The rest of the committee has appointed me to hear your claims and render judgment, if necessary.
“They aren’t even going to hear us themselves?” I asked, incredulous.
“Not unless I deem it necessary for them to do so,” the Councilman said. “I’m Councilman Bratu.” He stuck out his hand for me to shake, but I ignored it.
“I’ve seen you in the general meetings,” I said.
He dropped his hand by his side, the congenial smile on his face flickering for just a second. “Very well. Please, come into the meeting room with me.”
The meeting room was ornate, with deep red carpets and yellow patterns on them. In the corner, an enormous, bearded bodyguard stood still as a statue. Other than his size, the most noticeable thing about him was the fact that he wore a pair of antique sunglasses, the kind you could sometimes find in the market—the kind that cost more than the tea shop made in a month.
Councilman Bratu waved us to our two seats at the large, round table and took his. “So, how can I help you?”
Maicǎ give him the basics, and I added details here and there as I saw fit. As we spoke, Councilman Bratu watched us carefully, his eyes narrowing as he listened and nodded as we went. A couple of times, he asked for clarification or more information. For a brief time, I allowed myself to hope that he would help.
When we had finished our story, the Councilman stared at me intently. “And are you certain this was Councilman Petri that you saw?”
“Absolutely.” I nodded.
The Councilman leaned forward, elbows on the table. “After dark? And while you were spirit-riding a shapeshifter?”
I blinked in confusion. “Well, yes…”
He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the table and watching me through narrowed eyes. “You know, I’ve known Councilman Petri for a number of years, and I have never had anything but the utmost respect for him.”
I shot a frantic glance at Maicǎ, who leaned forward, stilling his hands with her own. “And I have known my granddaughter for many years, as well. Please believe me when I say she is not a liar, and she has never before come forward with a story like this. There is no reason for her to. All we’re asking is that the Council complete an internal investigation to be certain there is no problem.”
The Councilman pursed his lips, then nodded judiciously. “Absolutely,” he said. “We will do everything in our power to examine the issue. Thank you so much for having brought it to my attention today, ladies.” He stood, the interview clearly over.
For the second time that day, I was left gaping as an authority figure dismissed everything I had learned. Maicǎ’s mouth was set into a grim line, her thin lips pressed together in anger.
Slowly she stood, as well, leaning close to Bratu. “For your arrogance, you will suffer,” she said, singling him out by pointing at him as if she were cursing him. “You will live to see the truth of my granddaughter’s words. And you will wish that you had heeded her warning.”
Without another word, she marched out of the room, and I scurried to follow her.
When we stepped out into the hallway, there was another man waiting on the bench we had vacated moments before. I almost hurried past without a glance. I didn’t know what stopped me. But as I moved to rush past him, I slowed, turning my head just as he glanced up at me.
As if in a trance, he reached out one hand toward me until it brushed my arm.
When he touched me, everything in my head flipped, spinning around until I was seeing myself through his eyes. It wasn’t exactly the Sight. I wasn’t in a Vision. It was more like I was seeing both what he saw and what I saw. It came with a flash of connection, a spark that ran between us along the lines of a bond I hadn’t known was there. My consciousness reeled from myself to him. He’d felt it, too. My own body stumbled a little as I realized that I had felt the flavor of his mind before.
This was Sorin, the lynx-shifter I had run with the night before.
With that, I snapped back into myself and whipped around to stare at him full-on, startled.
He was also the man I had seen in my Vision of the Daughter rising—the one the other me had burst into the room with.
I gasped in surprise, even as he said, “My apologies. I’m…sorry I touched you.” He blinked, as if he couldn’t believe he was saying those words.
I waved one hand in the air, batting away his apology. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
At the sound of my voice, he froze. His eyes grew large and he stared after me as I turned away swiftly, pretending an urgent desire to catch up with Maicǎ.
I was fairly certain he had just figured out the voice in his mind.
I wanted to rush back and tell him not to bother to see Bratu—or anyone else, either. The Council wouldn’t be any more interested in hearing his version than they had been in hearing mine.
“Don’t worry about it,” Maicǎ was saying.
I had to shake my head to try to clear my thoughts and see if I could catch back up with Maicǎ’s conversation.
“Just because neither the Elders nor the Council will listen does not mean that we can’t fight this evil. We have resources, weapons that can be taken up against the Daughter.”
“Maicǎ, I don’t think so. She is terrifying. I don’t know of many people—human, shifter, or vampire—who wouldn’t practically fall down in terror at the sight of her. I almost did, and I knew it was only a Vision.”
Maicǎ nodded. “I do understand. I really do. But we have no other choice. If the officials will not help us, then we are going to have to help ourselves.”
I sighed. I suspected I knew where my help would be coming from. I didn’t mention seeing Sorin. It wouldn’t do any good.
Fate might not be settled.
But it sure was hard to overcome.
Chapter 8
Back at home in our apartment over the tea shop, I pled exhaustion and retreated to my room. Maicǎ nodded, sending a soothing tea blend upstairs with me, as I considered whether or not I should even try what I had in mind.
I hadn’t had to pay any Blood Price for either the card reading Maicǎ and I had done the night before or the Vision I’d had afterward.
That worried me. I didn’t want to be overcome with bloodlust. I didn’t want to kill anyone.
But if you’re going to go to war against the Sleeping Daughter and her minions, you’ll have to kill someone at some point—if only the Daughter herself.
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Unlike Sorin hearing my voice in his head, the admonition inside me was entirely my own. And it was right. The only way I would ever be fit to face the Sleeping Daughter after she rose would be to enhance my ability to use magic. And that meant opening myself up to larger and more demanding Blood Prices.
Magic had to be paid for. And blood was the only currency it accepted.
Stretching out on my bed, I closed my eyes and folded my hands over my flat stomach. I was going to do it—going to try to take a peek inside Sorin Rascu’s mind right now. I needed to be able to use magic if we were going to work to defeat magic.
As a child, I had been trained to hold off Visions as much and as long as possible, taught to control them as much as I could when they hit without warning, and admonished to never lose myself in them.
Not since I was a young teenager had I purposely broken those rules—and even then, only once as part of a dare at a party.
This time, I knew I needed to focus.
Deepening my breathing, I concentrated on the sensation of running in Sorin’s body, of breathing at his pace. I concentrated on the way his inner voice sounded to me. I imagined the feel of paws instead of hands, teeth that could shred.
And when I opened my eyes, I was no longer in my own room.
Sorin paced back and forth in his small chamber in one of the houses in the Chain’s enclosure in Titan Park. He couldn’t believe the way that insufferable, rude Councilman had dismissed everything he had to say. As if he were lying, or worse, an idiot.
All Sorin wanted to do was shift and run. He needed to be able to go free.
But he had expended far too much energy in his lynx form the night before watching the vampires’ sacrifice ritual and following Sanda out to her meeting with Councilman Petri.
And then, to be greeted with nothing more than, “Thanks for the information,” when he reported to Ciprian—well, that was the last straw. He was going to find out what was going on and how to stop the Sleeping Daughter from rising if it was the last thing he did.
Come to think of it, it may actually be the last thing I do.
It wasn’t like he made a very good politician—he couldn’t talk people into helping him.
You can sure as hell say that again.
Sorin paused, shaking his head.
Holy hell. That was last night’s voice. The one that was light and didn’t belong to him. Yep, there was definitely some kind of interloper in his brain right at this moment—the more he’d considered it, the more certain he’d become the night before. Seeing the Romani girl, hearing her speak, had convinced him he’d been right.
“Who are you?” he asked aloud, angrily.
I saw you today. When I came out from trying to talk to the Council. They didn’t listen.
Sorin snorted. “That’s about the least you can say about it.”
You got the same reception?
“Yep.”
You don’t have to speak aloud, you know.
“Oh, I think I do. It makes it crystal clear who’s speaking inside my head when I use my outside-my-own-mind voice.”
After a pause long enough to make Sorin hope the voice was gone entirely, it continued. I think we should try to stop the Sleeping Daughter from rising.
Nope. That tiny voice in his head had become something much larger.
“You’re the one who caused me to stop and roll your body out from under that wagon, aren’t you?” Sorin asked.
I am. Of course, you’re the one who put me there in the first place.
He considered his experience the night before. “I don’t want to work with someone who can take over my body at any moment. I’m not comfortable with that. Besides, I can’t even be certain that you’re real. For all I know, I’m going insane and I made you up.”
The voice laughed lightly. I’m real. I am Mirela Tsingano. And if you let me, I’ll meet with you.
Suspicion shot through Sorin, but he didn’t voice it—still, he was sure she knew what he was feeling.
The Council dismissed us both today. The Elders of my enclosure plan to do nothing. Mirela’s voice inside his mind grew strained. Through your eyes, I watched the vampires sacrifice that poor woman. Today I had another Vision—I saw the Sleeping Daughter rise. It was horrific. She’s terrifying.
Her fear shifted through his body, filtering down and turning his limbs to lead. Whatever else might or might not be true, Sorin was certain her experience had terrified her.
“Maybe the Council would have listened to what I had to say if you hadn’t gone in there first with your stories of Visions.” He let his frustration and anger rise to the surface.
You really believe that the human-Fae Council, a group full of magic users, didn’t believe a shapeshifter’s claims because I went in first and described a Vision I had?
“Maybe.” Sorin shrugged, though he knew Mirela couldn’t see it—he hoped she could feel the shrug, however.
Please meet with me. I don’t want to invade your thoughts. I want to be able to work with you to contain the threat that I think we both know is coming.
“I’ll meet with you,” Sorin said, “but I’m not making any promises about working together to defeat the Daughter. I’m not certain it can be done,” he muttered under his breath.
It certainly can’t be done if no one tries, Mirela said. Meet me at the Patriarchal Cathedral tomorrow at noon.
“The Patriarchal Cathedral? Isn’t that held by a Fae subgroup?”
Yes—one that is sympathetic to humans. I’ll be safe there.
“And what about me?”
A bright, high laugh echoed in his mind—much more carefree than anything he’d heard from Mirela since she’d begun haunting him.
As long as you don’t show up brandishing your claws and teeth, I think you’ll be fine.
“No. I know where you live. I’ll meet you outside your enclosure, by the wagon I hid you under last night. One hour.”
It took Mirela a long time to answer, and when she finally did, he could practically taste her reluctance.
It’s late. I’m anxious about going out in the dark this soon after a full moon.
Sorin laughed aloud. “But last night’s actual full moon was fine?”
I was caught outside after dark last night. I didn’t mean to be so late.
“Then let me inside your family’s enclosure.”
Shock at the idea slithered through him as if it were his own.
I can’t let a stranger in. You’re right. Come to the gate nearest the wagon in an hour. Knock three times then again twice, and I will come out to you.
“And you trust me not to hurt you?”
Again that silvery laugh trilled through his mind.
You didn’t hurt me when I was unconscious, even though your shapeshifter form thought I smelled good—maybe like food.
Sorin couldn’t help suppress the thought that ran through his mind. Or like a mate.
This time he wasn’t sure if the shiver that ran through him was his own or Mirela’s.
Just be there in an hour.
My eyes popped open. I was back in my own bed. Now I had one hour to figure out how to convince Sorin to join me in my crusade against the vampires’ plan to raise the Sleeping Daughter—and against their co-conspirators in the Council, and possibly even against some among the Romani elders.
Nothing to it. All I had to do was figure out how to change the entire world of Gypsy Hollow.
Chapter 9
An hour later, I stood just inside the back gate of the enclosure, leaning against the wall and tapping my foot nervously. I realized that with my arms crossed over my chest, I must have looked just like Maicǎ the night before when I had come home.
Self-consciously, I dropped my arms to my side and stilled my foot. I wished for a tree to slip behind while I waited, but twice a year the entire population of the enclosure gathered together to uproot any foliage that grew too close to the wall. Then we updated the wall itself, patchin
g any damaged areas and adding more broken glass to the top as necessary. The quality of the masonry might have been uneven, but the wall itself was strong. No one ever got into the Romani enclosure without our permission.
When the coded knocks came, I was glad to be drawn from my consideration of all the ways we might need to upgrade our security if Sorin and I were unable to stop the Daughter’s rise. Opening the grilled viewport in the gate, I checked to make sure it really was the lynx-shifter. He stood outside the gate looking back and forth in every direction, watching for danger.
Yep. The same tawny-haired, green-eyed young man I had seen at the Council’s meeting-house. When he turned that green gaze on me, I blinked, surprised to realize that he was deeply attractive. I had been so caught up in the shapes and colors of his mind that I hadn’t realized until now that I found his human form appealing.
Shaking my head at the irrelevant thought, I slipped out of the enclosure, shutting and locking the gate behind me and slipping the key into its hidden pocket. Sorin looked me up and down, his cat-like eyes narrowing—either in appreciation or in irritation, I couldn’t tell which.
“You’re really real,” he said.
I nodded, though I couldn’t think of anything to say to that. Had he not believed me? Imagined that the way we’d crossed paths twice now had been an accident?
Without even talking about it, we moved away from the better-lit areas and toward the alley where he’d hidden me under Gavril’s wagon. Once there, I turned and regarded him steadily. “Will you help me stop the Daughter from rising?”
His mouth hardened, and he stared into the courtyard for a moment. “Yes,” he said, his gaze finally returning to me. “I will. Because whatever else might be true, I believe the city is becoming more and more unstable. Can you feel it?”
Wicked Blood (Dark Fae Hollows) Page 5
