This time Cade was the one to straddle his opponent, and he felt Thor’s body jerk beneath his in impotent fury.
“Hear me, boy. The true death awaits, and she’s not the pale pretender you think you know.”
“Nooo.” The word escaped as a whisper from the prison of clenched teeth and compressed lips, but Cade heard it. Whether it was a denial of the truth or a plea for clemency, Cade didn’t know.
He worked Gravedigger’s blade, beginning the same carve pattern he’d executed on the Asian’s heart. Blood poured from the wound, soaking Cade’s hands.
Cade rolled his eyes upward, and the face of an angel looked down upon him. It was a stone angel, part of a monument at his feet. Angels had no meaning for his kind, yet this one’s blind eyes beheld his face and captured him so that he saw only her. Her gleaming stone froze the curls that cascaded past her shoulders and preserved her small smile for an eternity of care-giving. It was a Mona Lisa smile, like the one Charlet had given him on the evening they’d met. He blinked and saw blond hair and blue eyes, and he shuddered under the power of the vision.
Charlet. He saw his angel as if she were flesh, not stone, and suddenly it was 1893, and she was berating him for his cold heart and lack of charity. He felt her reproach at the sight of him poised and ready to slay a comrade, and the feeling stayed his hand. He could bear censure, but not the sorrow he saw in the vision, for in the sorrow was her love. Hers had been the love of his life—the love of the Manitou’s promise. His vow for vengeance upon her death had been his desire, not hers. It was time to honor her wish.
He leaned forward to put his mouth at Thor’s ear. “Were you not born to a purpose, brother? Remember it! Walk with me and serve your brothers, not your pride.” He pulled both knives from Thor’s heart. “Look at me!”
Thor cracked his eyes open.
“Know this, brother. You never surrendered to me. No one will ever hear of what happened tonight. When you’re prepared to help me form a circle, a true circle, look me up.”
Cade stood, sheathed Gravedigger, and flicked Thor’s Bowie to the ground. Its point caught the earth and held, and the handle quivered, then stilled. Thor raised his eyes to him, and his blue eyes bled a single tear.
Suddenly the weariness Cade had felt since before Deborah’s death lifted. A strange feeling descended to take its place, but it was light and settled on him like the stroke of a woman’s hand. He’d never shown clemency to any foe throughout the centuries, mortal or undead—not to the trader Lugre, the great Indian chief Pontiac, or Otto Hammer. He’d always considered it a sign of weakness, but he didn’t feel weak now. He felt strong.
If this new insight and energy could help him lead his people more effectively in the future, perhaps the untimely deaths of Charlet and Red would have served a purpose. They’d both died horrific deaths because of his actions. He’d never truly acknowledged that before, but with another glance at the stone angel, he did now. And with that acknowledgement, he understood a little of what Charlet had always been trying to teach him—compassion. With new eyes he looked down at Thor.
“I gave you immortality, brother. See that you don’t waste it.”
Cade looked up at the angel one last time, and her stone eyes smiled down at him.
Chapter Thirty-seven
CADE MAILED COPIES of the discs Nate had recorded to all the media outlets. His vindication flew swiftly on the same wings that had wanted to lynch him only days before. Cade didn’t care. The media was merely a weapon, not the enemy. The enemy was vanquished.
Koslik lived, and his testimony convicted not only himself, but Doyle. Doyle had bribed Deborah’s housekeeper into giving false testimony and had planted the damning paperwork in Deborah’s house. Through the mob, Koslik and Doyle had hired the Asian to destroy the safe house after the first letters were delivered. They also hired the Asian to kill Cade at Vamphasia. Doyle, however, didn’t swallow betrayal easily, and when the house of cards finally fell, Stammler and a dozen others in the council went down with him. City government was in chaos, but Cade wasn’t worried. He’d seen his city rise before from ashes deeper than this.
One month later, Nate Burnham called in his favor. After Cat’s betrayal of both him and Nate, Cade thought it was ballsy to ask Cade to honor the pact, but Nate insisted the favor involved a higher purpose and that hurt feelings would have to be put aside. He and Cade arranged to meet at the same apartment they’d used before.
“So, Kincade, how does it feel?”
Cade stared at him, impatient to cut to the heart of the meeting. “How does what feel?”
Nate raised his brows. “Victory. Freedom. Redemption.”
Cade wasn’t sure how to answer. The freedom felt good, but he’d paid for it in ways he didn’t care to share with a Brother of the Sun. Deborah and Red were gone, and he hadn’t heard anything of Thor since he’d left him bleeding on a grave in Rosehill Cemetery. But he still had faith in his former tyro, and he hadn’t given up hope that he’d see Thor again. It took time to lick the wounds of a heart piercing, but more than that, it took time to heal pride and confidence that had been shredded more thoroughly than flesh could ever be. But Thor was strong—of that he’d never had any doubt.
He shrugged. “It’s a new beginning. Like all new beginnings, it’s a struggle. What do you want of me, Nathan?”
“Don’t look at me like you’ve got a pill stuck in your throat. It’s nothing you haven’t done before. The mole is going to run in the special election for mayor. I want you to throw your support behind our candidate like you did with Deborah Dayton.”
Cade laughed. It was a pill, indeed. “You want the undead vote? For a candidate who’s a member of the BOS? Never. I won’t betray my people that way.”
Nate took a swallow from his beer and set it down before he answered. “Not every squid-hating councilman went down with Doyle and his bunch, and you know it. Do you really want one of them as mayor? I promise the mole won’t change any of Deborah Dayton’s programs or initiatives. As long as your people behave themselves, there’ll be peace.”
Cade wasn’t convinced. “And just how do you define what’s acceptable behavior and what’s not?”
“Nothing more than what you’ve been preaching to your people. Abide by the law. No killings for blood.”
So that was it. Nate knew as well as he did that you couldn’t just kill all your enemies. The old ways were gone. This was the new way. Conquest through peace. That much he’d already accepted years ago, for it had been the very way he himself had ensured survival for his people after Hell. But the idea of a Brother of the Sun ruling his city was still something he couldn’t accept. “No, Nate.”
“Think about it. Do you really want the alternative? And remember this—no one will ever know the truth except you, me, and the mole.”
CADE STOOD IN the park by the Standing Lincoln Statue and gazed at the stars. The breeze off Lake Michigan rustled the leaves that had fallen, and it didn’t escape Cade that it was the same time of year as when he’d met Charlet in this very spot. He lowered his eyes and looked around him, half expecting to see her, for these days it seemed she was never far from him.
A woman stood and watched him, and he didn’t know if he was surprised, angered, or merely piqued by her presence.
“Hello, Cade.” Her long hair, worn loose, was like the leaves, for it swirled around her face in ever-changing directions according to the whims of the wind. She made no move to swipe the errant strands from her face, keeping her hands in the pockets of her long, black leather coat.
“You followed me.” It was a stupid thing to say, but Cat always seemed to take him out of his comfort zone.
“It was pitifully easy, Cade. You really should be more on your guard.”
He gave her no welcoming smile, not even a scornful flash of one fang. “What do you want, Ca
t?”
“Just to talk. We never did get a chance to talk, did we?”
“No. When I realized you were the one who’d hired the Asian, there didn’t seem a whole lot more to say. You did hire him, didn’t you?”
She nodded. “The first time he confronted you, yes. I was with Nate when you called to set up the meet at Midnight Oil. I’d known about Ryder and Ran Jian yi for a long time. We decided months ago not to hunt them. They were doing too good of a job of killing nasty vampires. I’m surprised you didn’t know them. Anyway, it was easy enough to contact them and have them follow you from the café.”
“I’d always wondered just how Ryder managed to latch onto me that night. No one knew we’d be there except Nate, and when I touched his mind, I was able to discern that he hadn’t done it.”
“Nate didn’t like it when he found out he’d been used.”
He understood how Nate felt. He wasn’t too thrilled either by being so easily manipulated by a woman. “Why, Cat?”
“I’ve never liked you. In fact, when Midnight Storm broke, I hated you. I was just a kid, but you were the face of the undead. I didn’t know the unseen thousands of vampires in the city, but it was your arrogant face on the news. That hate has lessened over the years for all of us who call ourselves moderates, but as I said, I’ve never liked you. But when you manipulated the undead to get Deborah Dayton elected, it was the last straw for me. Someone needed to do something to show you you’re not God.”
She shrugged. “The opportunity to put a tail on you and teach you a lesson was too sweet to pass up. Hell, everybody was after you. I figured you’d chalk up an assassin to any one of your many enemies, not to those who were purporting to help you. But I was wrong about you, and I’m sorry. And I’m sorry about Red. Her death was never part of the plan. All I wanted was for you to be brought down a few pegs.”
How charitable. “But not killed.”
“No. I never wanted you killed. I wanted Deborah Dayton’s murderer caught as much as you did. I wanted to climb the ladder of power, but there were a few bastards on the rungs above me. I needed help in knocking them off.”
Her words sounded like Deborah’s—brash and bold with ambition, but not even Deborah had been this ruthless. “You suspected the councilmen.”
“I did, but I couldn’t prove it.”
Quite a few power-hungry climbers had indeed been whacked to the ground. It certainly seemed that Cat had gotten everything she’d wanted. Or had she? She’d slipped an apology to him in with her condolences about Red. “You said you were wrong about me. What changed your mind?”
She finally took a hand from her pocket and pushed wayward strands of hair from her face, as if she wanted to let him know she had nothing to hide. “I realized I didn’t really know you. I saw that you not only truly cared for your people, but wanted peace for all.”
It was almost an insult. She’d hated him based on nothing more substantial than what the media knew about him, which was nothing. Her about-face and sudden change of heart was rooted in little more than air, the passing of but a few nights of battle. Even Deborah, after three years, hadn’t known him. “You see little. You understand less.”
She walked toward him, stopping when she was but a foot away. “I know. I want to.”
He looked away, and his own hair whipped across his face. He wasn’t sure what she was offering, if anything, and he wasn’t sure he should accept. She was shrewd, skilled, and smart, and she was the most dangerous woman he’d ever known. The thought of a future with her was both repellent and appealing. If nothing else, the challenge of trying to best her made his blood dance and set several of his body parts to aching. He loved a challenge. But for now he needed more explanations from her, so he changed the subject.
“Ryder told me Sol hired him.”
She curved her full lips into a Cheshire grin. “I thought you had me. It was so obvious. Your first instinct about that was right. Sol meant the Brothers of the Sun. Ryder never knew my name, only that I was a representative of the Brotherhood. I made up Antonio Sollazo. There’s no such mobster. I figured that little ruse alone would keep you from suspecting me.”
“And when the Asian blew up the safe house and came after me in Vamphasia? You truly had nothing to do with that, did you.” Koslik had confessed to hiring the Asian to do that, but he wanted to hear it from Cat.
“No.” She shook her head, and the further twisting of her lips betrayed the stifling of a laugh. “You have no idea how many people wanted you dead, do you? Ran Jian yi was the best. And very much in demand.”
He changed the subject again. “Nate called in his favor. Did you know?”
“He wants you to back me for mayor.”
The same blood that a moment before had surged through his body, hardening it, now drained to his feet. He’d witnessed more than three hundred years of mortal machinations, and yet the human race still had the capacity to shock him. He took a moment to school his face before he turned to her. “You?” But as soon as he uttered the question, he realized he’d betrayed his surprise.
But she aimed no gloating smile at him this time, merely nodding instead. “I’m the mole. My name is Catherine Sheridan. I’ve been on the city council for two years.”
He recognized the name, of course, but he’d never met her in person, and he’d failed to connect photos he’d seen of Catherine Sheridan with the ponytailed, leather clad warrior princess he’d known as Cat. Such skill in keeping secrets deserved recognition, even from the dupe. He gave her a small nod. “A tip of the hat, Miss Sheridan. You had me fooled. But you and Nate are both crazy if you expect me to do this. You take out a contract on me, then you expect me to convince my people to vote you into office?”
She stepped even closer to him, laying a bare hand against his cheek. The warmth of her touch drew his blood like a magnet, and flesh that had softened at the disclosure of her deceptions stiffened at her manipulation of his body. She ran her fingertips across his face like she was reading Braille, then drew the tip of her index finger over his lower lip. “We’ll lead the city together, you and I. Think of the fun you’ll have trying to keep me in line.”
He knew her flirtation for the weapon it was, and this time he wasn’t fooled by the flattery of her tease. Instead, he paid her back in kind, dragging his own fingers down her face and neck to her carotid artery. He lingered there, feeling her hot blood pulse against the pad of his thumb. “Fun, indeed,” he whispered, and he leaned forward to land the lightest of kisses on her lips. “But, no,” he breathed into her mouth. “You’re asking me to betray my entire race. I won’t put a hate-monger in power.”
She backed away from him, and he wasn’t sure if her sober eyes and parted lips were a realization that her flirting was ill-timed, or simply a reaction to his touch. He smiled a little at his own conceit. He always liked to think it was about him, even when past history reminded him otherwise.
But she recovered nicely, straightening her collar and tossing the hair out of her face. “I wouldn’t be as openly pro-vampire as Deborah was, naturally. But her policies did your people no lasting good. She polarized this city. I won’t. I’m a moderate, Cade. I won’t allow the undead to rise in power, but neither will I persecute them. I’ll be fair to everyone, and I’ll keep the peace.”
She brought her fingers to his mouth again, rubbing her thumb across his lower lip. “Can’t have Chicago’s doyen running around with lipstick on him, can we? Think about it, Cade, and think about the alternatives.” She turned and strutted away, not looking back.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chicago, Illinois
Six Months Later
CADE DREW ONE final deep breath, then knotted the orange silk tie at his throat. The tie felt like a dog collar, but fashion, as always, was a necessary evil. Sometimes he wished for the old days of skin and leather, but o
n nights like tonight he hoped the brief discomfort of the trappings of wealth and power would be worth it in the end.
He straightened his tie, fastened it with a tack of Madeira citrine, and ran his hands over the smooth silk of his suit coat. It was a shade lighter than his skin tone, a caramel color so rich it would make him salivate if such sweets appealed to him. They didn’t, but his mouth watered anyway at the thoughts of those things that did please him.
Those thoughts lent speed to his feet as he descended the stairs of his Orchard Street townhouse. “Cesar! Time to go!” His new tyro was young and not as gifted as Thor, but neither did Cesar require attitude adjustments as frequently as Thor had.
Cesar appeared, still buttoning his own suit coat. “Ready.”
“Bring the car. I don’t wish to be late.”
Cesar brought the car up from the underground garage, giving Cade a moment to wait on the front steps and bask in the glory of springtime in Chicago. The loss of the sun had closed all the tulip blossoms for the day, forming tight little teardrops of red that swayed in the warm breeze on tall green stalks. Their shape and color reminded Cade of Red and of the necklace she’d worn so often—the necklace they’d sent to Ian Doyle as proof that Red was still alive. Doyle was awaiting prison. Cade hoped that Red was waiting out eternity somewhere infinitely more pleasant.
Cesar pulled up in the Panther, and Cade slid in and rolled down his window far enough to allow the fragrance of the night to wash over him. It wasn’t just the scent of flowers and trees exploding in their annual renewal of color and perfume, but life itself. It was indeed a new beginning—for him, his city, and all Chicagoans, mortal and undead alike.
Twenty minutes later Cesar dropped him off at City Hall, and Cade endured the security check with a patience he was far from feeling. With his pass tucked in his pocket, he ascended the familiar staircase two steps at a time, stopping on the fifth floor to listen and to breathe as deeply as his tight collar and tie allowed. Two heartbeats, his own and one other. He strode into the mayoral chamber. “Madam Mayor.”
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