by Lisa Emme
“Harry? Harry, I’m sorry. I have to go. They’ve called the Gathering. I have to participate in the mheá, the weighing.”
Feeling numb, and not really understanding what Tess was talking about, I replied, “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Go do what you have to do.”
With news of the other abductions, the werewolf guard quickly bugged out. The vampires milled around, unsure what to do or what was going on until Tomas rose from his seat and barked some orders. A contingent of vampire guard – most likely all hand-picked for their loyalty – appeared and secured the room.
“What’s going on?" I asked Isaac.
“Harry, he’s going to invoke a mass oath.” Jonah’s voice intruded on my thoughts. “He has to assert his control over them or there will be more trouble. You need to leave. You shouldn’t be here or you may be forced to pledge to Tomas as well.”
“What? I haven’t even done that for Salvador.” I glanced around, trying to find Jonah in the crowd.
“All the more reason to leave.”
“Harry, we should leave,” Isaac said urgently, oblivious to the conversation happening in my head.
“I know. Come on. Let’s take the elevator up to the penthouse.”
I sheathed my katana and picked my way through the crowd. At the penthouse elevator, one of the guards moved to stand in front of the doors. I was regretting putting away my sword when Isaac stepped forward.
“Do you really want to stop the Magister’s daughter from going to her own apartment?”
The guard looked apprehensive.
“We have orders that no one leaves.”
“She’s not leaving, she’s going upstairs.”
I felt a presence appear behind me and the guard’s eyes widened. I didn’t need to look to know that Jonah was standing at my back. After a moment, the guard stepped aside. Isaac pushed the call button and the doors opened immediately. I followed him into the elevator with Jonah close on my heels, but not before he stopped and patted the guard on the chest saying, “Good choice, mate. Good choice.”
We rode in silence up to the penthouse, a silence that continued until we covered the distance of the hall and entered the spacious two-storey living room. As if on cue, both Isaac and Jonah began to curse. Isaac accused Jonah of letting things go this far, endangering me, while Jonah cursed himself, mages and magic in general. And then my phone rang.
He’s been taken.
Sitting on Salvador’s spacious leather couch, I closed my eyes and the words kept replaying over and over in my head.
“Enough!” I shouted. “Enough.” I rose from my seat and pointed at Jonah. “You are going to tell me everything you know about this Drago character so I can go find Nash. Everything.”
Jonah’s eyes widened and he blinked in surprise. After a moment, his demeanor changed, his expression becoming more calculating.
“Don’t make me make you,” I said, unfurling my power. I let it lick across the room before calling it back.
Jonah glared at me. “You’re playing with fire, little one, and you’re apt to get burned.”
His use of the nickname Salvador gave me – Pequeña means little one in Spanish – pissed me off further and so I opened up a channel to my power and let it slowly flow from me until the room became thick with it.
Jonah hissed, his fangs appearing. Isaac jumped in front of me, his stance equally menacing.
“Do you really think you can compel me?” Jonah asked, his voice full of disbelief.
“Do you really want to find out?" I replied, with more confidence than I felt.
The two men stared at each other, at a standoff, and then Jonah threw up his hands.
“Ah, bollocks,” he said. He turned to the bar and grabbed a bottle. “I need a drink. Who’s joining me?”
***
“Salvador sent me to Europe after the Mariposa’s death,” Jonah said, sliding into a seat beside me, drink in hand. Neither Isaac nor I took him up on the offer. “The situation was worse than we feared. Without the Mariposa’s influence, feuds broke out across her territory as the various factions vied for power. Even with the help of the werewolves, Diego is having a hard time holding Portugal and Spain. France and Italy are lost, at least for now. I don’t think he has any interest in trying to get them back, however. He’s not as grasping as his mother.
“Most of the vampire families that toiled under Catalina’s rule are glad to be out from under her heel and are grateful to Salvador for her demise.” He paused and gave me a knowing smile. “Although few believe the circumstances of her final death.”
I shrugged. That was fine by me. I wasn’t looking for credit. I still had nightmares about that night on occasion when I could feel her fingers wrapped around my throat.
“There are some who blame Salvador for their Madre’s death, and none more vocal than Goran Drago,” Jonah continued. “Drago had a long history with the Mariposa. It’s rumoured that he was her lover and one of the first to receive the Kiss from her and yet he never sought emancipation.”
He said that last fact as if it should mean something to me, but it didn’t. “So, what’s the big deal?”
“What it means, Harry,” Isaac answered, “is that Drago was connected to the Mariposa metaphysically for many, many years. Such a relationship can bring the recipient of the Kiss a surfeit of benefits, including a boost in power. But there are drawbacks too.”
“Like what?”
“Like if you remain closely bonded to your sire, there comes a point when emancipation is impossible. You are too closely linked, and as in all master-servant relationships, the benefit always goes more in one direction than the other.”
“What Isaac is trying to say, is Drago gleaned his powers from the Mariposa, but she also used him and could, when needed, drain power from him to boost her own reserves. When she was embattled with Salvador the night she died, she did just that. She pulled power from her servants, killing many of them. Those that survived, like Drago, were severely damaged, some permanently so.”
“That explains why he looked so weird,” I said, remembering Drago’s scars.
“How so?" Jonah set down his glass and turned towards me.
“He was scarred and hunched over,” I replied, confused. It was obvious to anyone who saw him.
Isaac shook his head. “He did not appear damaged to me.”
“Me either.” Jonah stared at me in surprise. “Where were the scars?”
“On the right side of his face. It looked like he had been burned in a fire.”
Frowning, Jonah rose to his feet. “Those are old scars. Burns he received as a child before he became a vampire. But you shouldn’t have been able to see them.” He paced the room, looking thoughtful.
“Deirdre,” I replied. “She must have been casting a glamour for him, to hide his scars.” Glamour was one of the few types of magic she excelled at.
“She shouldn’t have had to…unless…” Jonah snapped his fingers. “I know what’s been stolen and why Drago is so desperate to get it back.”
“What?" I sat forward eagerly. Finding the missing item would put us that much closer to getting Nash and Salvador back.
“It’s a brooch. A family crest. Drago’s mother was a witch of some high repute and she charmed it so it would always hide his deformities, provided he was wearing it.”
“That must be what’s missing and he’s using Deirdre to help him hide the fact it’s gone.” I shook my head. “But Deirdre isn’t a strong enough witch to hide an entire group of vampires from detection, nor is she capable of creating a translocation spell. There must be at least one other mage in the group.”
“A mage whose life is now forfeit,” Max replied. He was standing in the doorway to the living room with Tomas. “A fact I just pledged to Tomas on behalf of the Conclave.”
“Max!” I jumped up in surprise. With everything going on with Salvador and the werewolves, I had forgotten there was one more community represented in the Cimmeria
n. “Have you heard anything from Tess? She was talking about some sort of gathering or something, but I don’t know what she meant.”
“Russo, you can be clueless sometimes.” Tomas smirked at me. “The Gathering is what happens when the werewolves lose their alpha. The entire pack has to realign the pecking order, determine who’s top dog.”
“What? Is Eleanor…”
“No, we don’t know that, Harry,” Max said gently. “The pack can’t be without its alpha, just like the vampires needed Tomas to step in for Salvador.”
Jonah started pulling on his jacket, heading towards the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Turning towards me, he gave me a look that said he didn’t have to answer to me, but then he replied, “Hunting, it’s what I do. Maybe I’ll get lucky this time and pick up a trail.”
“I’m going with you,” I said, grabbing my sword. I had removed it earlier so I could sit in comfort.
“No!” the four men answered in unison.
“What we mean to say, Harry,” Isaac continued, “is it’s too dangerous for you to go out right now. We don’t know what Drago’s plans are, but we know they involve you in some way.”
“Isaac’s right,” Max said. “You should probably stay here for the night. Tomas has the entire building secured.”
“I can’t just sit around here. Nash is out there somewhere and so is Salvador. We should all be out hunting, not just Jonah…” I scanned around the room for him, only to discover the bastard had snuck out while we were talking.
I ran to the hallway in time to hear the doors of the elevator sliding shut.
“Think Russo,” Tomas called after me. “How are you going to find someone the Law, hasn’t been able to find?”
“Spend the night here, Harry. Hopefully tomorrow there will be some news.” Isaac put a hand on my shoulder, leading me back into the room.
“I can’t stay here, I have to go home. What about Lucy? She’ll be looking for her breakfast in the morning. And the shop! Who knows how long the werewolves will be gone? Tiffy will be all by herself tomorrow. She’ll need my help.”
“I can take care of the shop,” Isaac replied.
“And I’ll stop by and make sure Lucy gets fed in the morning,” Max added. “Maybe you should close the shop for the day tomorrow. Post a sign that there was a family emergency or something.”
I sank back onto the couch, and nodded, feeling defeated. They were right, of course. I didn’t have a clue where to even begin to search for Nash, Salvador and the others, and racing home to get kidnapped myself wouldn’t help things.
“Fine. I’ll stay here tonight.”
Chapter Nineteen
I managed to keep my promise, barely, and stayed the night, but after tossing and turning for most of it, I finally gave up on sleeping an hour or so after dawn.
My mind kept churning the same questions over and over. What had happened to Nash? Was he hurt? Was he still alive? – although I had decided I would know if he wasn’t because of the mate mark, so that question wasn’t taking as big a starring role in my brain as the others.
And then there was Salvador. Surprisingly, I found myself worrying about him too. What had they done to him? What were they going to do to him? I guess I was growing attached because I didn’t like the thought of never seeing him again.
What little sleep I did have was plagued by dreams. Mostly they involved the Mariposa, the memories having been stirred up talking about her earlier, but one weird dream stood out. It was almost like a memory rather than a dream. I was four-years-old. I know because I was wearing my favourite Danger Mouse T-shirt. Just about every photo I have of me at that age has me wearing the same shirt. In the dream, I was high up in a tree. I was stuck, but didn’t want to admit it. I had climbed the tree because Tess had done the same the day before (only she had also successfully climbed back down) and I wanted to prove that I could climb higher. My little nose was out of joint because Tess, newly arrived to join our family after the loss of hers, was getting all the attention. In the dream, I was talking to a tall man who looked suspiciously like Jonah.
“Are you a ghost or are you real?” I asked him.
“I’m very real. Why do you ask?”
“I can’t always tell,” I replied. “You look real…”
“I promise you, I’m as real as you.” The man smiled.
“You must be a devil.”
“A devil? No, why would you think that?”
“Angels have yellow hair. I saw their pictures in a book. But your hair is red and the devil is red.” I squinted at his head. “Where are your horns?”
The man laughed and pushed his hair back from his forehead. “No horns, I’m afraid.” His face sobered. “You’re awfully high up in that tree. Don’t you think you should climb down? It’s getting late.”
“No,” I replied adamantly. “If you aren’t a devil, who are you?”
“I’m a Viking.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
The man thought for a moment, and then grinned. “It’s like a pirate only meaner.”
“You don’t look all that mean to me. You look kinda pretty, ‘specially for a boy.” I wrinkled my nose up at the thought of the boys I knew.
The man laughed and gave a little bow. “Why thank you, elska. Now, why don’t you come down and we can meet properly.”
I shook my head vigorously. “No.”
Frustrated, the man paused for a moment, thinking. “Oh, I see,” he finally replied, a grin spreading across his face. “It’s not that you don’t want to come down, it’s that you can’t climb down. You’re stuck. You can’t do it.”
“I can too! Watch!”
I started my way down, backing slowly along the branch on which I’d been sitting. When I reached the thick trunk, I managed to swing my leg down, reaching with my toe for the branch below, while supporting my weight hanging from my arms, the other leg still wrapped around the branch above. There was a mighty CRACK! and suddenly I was weightless, falling.
“I’ve got you, elska.” The man said, catching me easily and folding me into his arms.
“Good thing you was real,” I replied, gazing up at him with something akin to hero worship.
“But I’m not, elska, I’m just a dream. Time for you to sleep.” He brushed my forehead with his fingers and all went black.
I can vaguely remember that day. I don’t remember the man at all though, only climbing up the tree and back down again. Gran found me later, sleeping at the base of the tree and threatened to “tan your hide if you ever do something so lame-brained again”.
Shaking off the strange dream, I jumped in the shower and then wandered the depths of my penthouse closet, hunting for something to wear rather than put the same clothes back on. I finally settled on a pair of seventies-inspired flared jeans and a cute, gauzy blouse with long tails at the front for tying at the waist. There were a gorgeous pair of red, platform sandals that would have been stellar with the jeans, but I didn’t know what the day was going to hold so I opted to pull on my well-worn Chucks.
Dressed, I stuffed yesterday’s clothes into a canvas tote I found on the shelf, and headed downstairs. It was early morning and all the good little vampires should still be asleep or whatever the hell it is they do, so I was hoping I could sneak out and grab a cab back to the firehall without any drama.
The big retractable shades that covered the floor to ceiling windows during the day were on timers and, as expected, were closed, leaving the living room in almost total darkness. My suped-up eyesight quickly adjusted to the lack of light though, and I was able to make my way down the stairs and across the room without cracking a shin on the furniture.
“Going somewhere?”
The voice came out of the darkness and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“Fuck!” I yelped, swinging around to face its owner. My katana was sticking out of the tote bag over my arm, but before I could draw it,
the voice registered as one I recognized. “Jonah. Don’t you ever sleep?”
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” he replied with a grin. “What about you?”
“Sleep is overrated.” I readjusted the tote on my shoulder and turned towards the hall.
“Let me help you with that, elska.”
“What did you just say?" I turned to him in surprise.
“I said, let me carry your bag, else I’ll look like less than a gentleman.” He reached out, slipping the tote off my shoulder.
I narrowed my eyes at him. Maybe I was hearing things. Stupid dream.
“So, I take it you’re going home?” Jonah reached out and pushed the elevator button.
“Yes, so don’t try and stop me.”
“Does it look like I’m trying to stop you?” he asked wryly.
“Well, no.” I let out a loud breath. He wasn’t going to stop me, but I’d bet my katana he wasn’t going to let me go alone either. “I guess we’ll take your car then.”
Chapter Twenty
“Stop!” I put a hand against the dash of the car as Jonah slammed on the brakes.
“What is it?”
“Look! The shop. What’s it doing open?" Jonah gave me a blank stare. “Oh, never mind. Just park around back.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Thank you.”
Jonah parked the car and I hopped out, heading straight for the back door of the shop. The usual morning sounds filtered down the hall from the main room. It sounded busy. As I gaped in surprise, Morris, the Faerie carpenter who had completed all the renovations in the shop, trotted down the hall carrying one of the big plastic bins we used for bussing tables. He had an apron with the café’s logo tied around his waist and a cloth for wiping tables over his shoulder.
“Morning, Miss,” he said with a toothy grin as he headed into the kitchen. “Come on, boys! Start washing,” he bellowed.
“Morris?”
“Harry? Is that you?" Mrs. Potts ducked her head around the corner from the food prep area at the front.
