Hearts of Shadow (Deadglass #2)

by Kira Brady

  “Don’t coddle the girl, Regent. Or perhaps you don’t know what your brother used her for?”

  “I know enough.”

  Grace felt her face flush with humiliation. She pulled away and sat back against the red leather seat, pushing as far into the corner as she could get. Asgard sat across from her looking elegant in his long crimson coat and sharp grey suit. He’d brushed his blond hair into a loose queue and polished his boots, but his fingers were still stained with ink and coal. He’d never be as stylish as his brother; Norgard had been beautiful as an ice sculpture, every line planned within an inch. Asgard’s elegance had a rumpled air, and it made him seem more touchable. Warmer. Almost human.

  Grace shook herself. To her left lounged Astrid Zetian, the only female Dreki in the territory, with her high Scandinavian forehead and Imperial dragon cat eyes. Gorgeous and smart and scheming. More deadly than even Thorsson. There were few Imperials left, even before the Unraveling, and they never left their rugged mountains in the interior of China. Zetian had wanted more than monks and poetry. She’d come across the water during the Gold Rush, settling on Seattle for the same reason Norgard had: It held a cracked Gate.

  Grace was pretty sure the ancient Dreki had been Norgard’s lover. She wasn’t some doe-eyed young girl who could be ensnared and entranced. Zetian was a woman empowered by her sexuality. When she came to a man’s bed it would be on her own terms. She was on top. Carnal. Calculated. Passionate. The very image of a fertility goddess, Zetian would sweat and sweat beautifully.

  Grace curled farther into her corner and tried to fade into the leather.

  “Don’t you want to know why you’re along on this little adventure?” Asgard asked. His green eyes were dazzling even in the dim interior of the carriage. A few strands of blond locks framed his high cheekbones. His cravat was slightly askew. Grace could easily imagine these two beautiful creatures grappling against the headboard just seconds before she sprawled inside. She felt like a pigeon among peacocks.

  She raised her eyebrows and stuck out her chin. “You can’t get it up without an audience?”

  His lips parted. “Excuse me?”

  Zetian chuckled. “The wee babe is jealous, darling.” She leaned in to Grace and her scent skyrocketed.

  Grace held her breath, but Zetian waited her out. A girl needed oxygen. The pheromones were heady. The first whiff made her eyes almost water with need. She clenched her thighs together against the acute ache. Sweat beaded on her lower back. She fought the urge to touch her fever-bright skin or bite suddenly sensitive lips. She shut her eyes and pretended she felt nothing. She’d had a lot of practice.

  “Come, little fighter,” Zetian whispered, her breath hot on the delicate shell of Grace’s ear. “You want to play rough? I will break you.”

  “Enough, Zetian,” Asgard said. Grace opened her eyes at his sharp tone.

  Zetian retreated to her side of the carriage, her mouth pulled in a satisfied smile like a cat in cream. “Just showing your little slave her place, my lord.”

  With a jolt, the carriage began to move. Grace braced herself between the seat and the door, her feet planted. Asgard inspected her ripped hood briefly and studied her black eye. She turned her face away. “I’m fine.”

  “You look it. What were you doing at the House of Ishtar?”

  “What’s it to you where I go?”

  “The House is destroyed. It’s my business to find out why.”

  “Right, so I went at it with a big mallet and my knife. Really wanted to give Ishtar the old one-two, you know?”

  His mouth curved. “I don’t doubt you could cause that much destruction, given enough time. Doesn’t matter. Thorsson will tell me.”

  “Is he following me?” She could almost feel the steam billowing out of her ears.

  “I thought I told you to stay away from fights.”

  “I thought I told you to give me a job or get out of my business.”

  Zetian laughed. “That’s the problem with feeding a stray pup, darling. They never appreciate it.”

  “I did some work for Ianna,” Grace told him, “and was picking up my fee. It sounds like wraiths did it, but she wanted to blame the Thunderbirds. Some showed up a little after the attack and checked out the house.”

  “A lot of people want to blame Thunderbirds this morning,” he said.

  “And maybe we should join them,” Zetian said. “It’s unwise to side with the scapegoat.” Asgard’s nostrils flared. She tapped her long red nails against the leather carriage seat. “What more do you need, Asgard? A white glove slapped across your cheek? Corbette swore upon the Aether to purge us from the Earth. The Aether! There is no oath more binding. Even if he is innocent of these charges, the truce won’t last. Don’t let your first act as Regent be to let our people be slaughtered.”

  Our people? Norgard would never have risen to that bait; he didn’t give a flying Freya about other Drekar. They lived so long as they were useful to him. But Asgard seemed to care. His irises narrowed to slits. “Corbette has been arrested.”

  “What?” Grace sat up.

  “This morning at six o’clock, two teenagers entered the Church of the New Revelation with crossbows and proceeded to shoot at the worshipping congregation. They were subdued and killed before they could be questioned. The Church has declared war on all supernaturals. The teens were Kivati. Jameson believes Corbette ordered them to do it.”

  Grace felt her stomach drop. “But, why? Kivati are sworn to protect humans.”

  “Is that what they call it now?” Zetian asked. “Opening the Gate? Protecting humans?”

  “Rudrick went rogue,” Grace said.

  “If one Fox revolted against their leader,” Zetian said, “you know a hundred more are thinking it. Rudrick couldn’t have pulled the Unraveling off alone. Perhaps Corbette wanted to add humans to the list of races to wipe from the playing field. Don’t look at me that way, little girl. I have a vested interest in keeping humans alive, especially those pure souls of New Revelation.” Zetian’s forked tongue slipped out and licked her ruby red lips. Her hungry eyes bore into Grace.

  Grace couldn’t back up, crowded into the corner as she was. The carriage wheel bounced in a deep rut, throwing her across the carriage and into Asgard’s lap. Soft grey wool covered his rock hard thighs. The lightly pin-striped vest hid washboard abs. His arms came around her, anchoring her in the rocking carriage, but it was suddenly too much. Too much heat and iron and overwhelming male body.

  She was keenly aware of her own vulnerability. “Don’t touch me!”

  He let go, allowing her to scramble unceremoniously off his lap and back to her corner. He and Zetian watched her with cool eyes. She knew she was being ridiculous. She would never have ordered Norgard like that. He would only be more likely to do it.

  Asgard gave her space. He pulled the curtain back and watched out the window. “Corbette went peacefully when Jameson’s soldiers arrested him. He is at the council hall now, and I’ve been called to be a witness against him. I want you there, Grace, to keep your eyes open. You’ve had more direct contact with aptrgangr than any of the others. Consider this your first job.”

  “I accept,” Grace said before he could take it back. She had no chance of getting another job with the temples after Ianna followed through on her threat. Besides, she didn’t want to be left out of this brewing storm. Asgard was offering a chance at information, and after five years in the dark, she was starving for a taste of light. “It’s Kingu,” she told him. “You should have prepared for this.”

  Asgard studied her for a long moment as the carriage rocked. “I’m afraid you might be correct, and I’m sorry for it.”

  She inhaled sharply. An apology? An actual admission of wrong? She had to remember that Asgard was Drekar and a master manipulator. He might pretend to have emotions and honor, but he was younger. He still thought of himself with human contemporaries. Hadn’t had the centuries to lose his connections and his grip on sanity. But dee
p down, they were all the same. Norgard. Zetian. Thorsson. Asgard. Monsters, every one.

  Leif arrived at the council building and ushered everyone out of the carriage into the weak, late afternoon sun. They moved more readily than he did. He knew that if he entered those wide blue doors there was no going back. Corbette and Kingu and war lay in wait inside the building. But it was already too late to back out. He had one chance to diffuse tensions between the three populations. If he failed, Zetian would win, and his experiments must turn from quality of life to machines of war.

  Inside, he allowed Jameson’s soldiers to divest Thorsson of his broadsword even though he knew it would make the man brood. He was less amused as they stripped Grace of her weapons. Each knife took a bit of her armor, until she was only a fragile, tiny human in pitifully thin skin. Thorsson, Zetian, and he could all sprout scales, claws and fire in a blink of Aether. He didn’t like it that Grace was left vulnerable, but there was nothing he could do. He watched the soldiers like a hawk; his slit pupils hurried them along, fear rank on the wind. He was pleased that they missed the knife in her boot. He was less pleased that they ran their hands up and down her body, searching with their dirty paws. A savage glance from him, and they backed off.

  Zetian raised an eyebrow. She motioned for him to proceed first into the council chamber. All trace of her earlier game was gone. She was all cool business. Advisor to the king. Humans didn’t understand a female’s power, she said, and when they recognized it they feared it. In front of them she played a shadow of herself. Dispassionate, logical, but a little bit dull. They never knew what hit them.

  “I can’t go in there with you,” Grace hissed.

  He knew what she meant; she got by on sticking to the shadows. “Stay on the sidelines. Take notes.” He bit back the need to shield Grace from all the watchful hatred he sensed in the council room. The best he could do was to disassociate himself from her, and so he let her go. Once she was out of earshot, he motioned for Thorsson to guard her.

  Thorsson grimaced, but followed her.

  “You coddle her,” Zetian said. “She is a warrior.”

  “She is human.”

  “You will break her spirit. Norgard couldn’t do it. But you will, if you keep on this path. She will curse your name.”

  Leif stared at her.

  Zetian shrugged. “Fine. Do as you wish.”

  Soldiers held back the mob in the council chamber, same as they had the last time he set foot into this mockery of a court, but this time they called for Corbette’s blood. He paused in the doorway, and the anger was so palpable it masked his presence.

  All eyes were on Corbette, and the tide had turned. He sat in the defendant’s gate like an ancient cedar tree; tall and unbending. The winds of change tore about his branches; he would crack and fall before he budged. His straight black hair fell past his collar. The dust of the road lay upon his suit. There was a careworn look about him—a shocking change from his usual fastidiousness. If that was the state of his dress, his mind must be a madhouse.

  Or perhaps he was too busy planning his new war to care for his appearance. Leif clenched his jaw and tried to look calm. He remembered the endless years of war. Sven had shielded him from most of it, but he read the paper and could guess what the reporters left out. Every warehouse fire or arson investigation that had turned up empty had not been for lack of police intelligence. The gang shootouts and hijacked shipments had not been so mysterious. He didn’t want to return to that time. He needed peace for his people. He needed to find a cure for the immortal madness and a stable, nurturing environment to increase his population.

  Fafnir was laughing somewhere in the world. There were too many variables for Leif to control. He thought of his mother. She would have wanted him to try.

  Through the ring, he felt Grace slip into the peanut gallery and knew Thorsson would keep her safe. It was full of Kivati. If Corbette planned to take out the opposition in one swoop, this would be a perfect opportunity. The Regent and his advisor, the admiral and his cohorts. Only Marks was missing.

  Leif was beginning to think like Zetian. Tiamat help them all.

  At the defendant’s gate, Admiral Jameson grilled Corbette about the youths and the Kivati’s animalistic violence. The admiral wore a black armband and had the flags at half-mast. Surely not for the slain at New Revelation?

  “Wild animals should be kept in cages with radio collars,” Jameson said. “We should have warning when the man walking down the street toward us is a vicious killer. We need watch lists—”

  “I am responsible for all my people,” Corbette said softly, “but I can’t learn anything from those boys if they’re dead.”

  Corbette showed admirable restraint. Jameson was trigger-happy. He had soldiers and guns, and it was no secret that he wanted to expand his territory northward. He coveted the Kivati’s hill, the high ground out of the infill and fallen mess of downtown. Mostly, he wanted to own the Interurban and the commerce that went with it. The trade routes were once again the path to power.

  A soldier rushed forward and whispered into Jameson’s ear. Announcing Leif had arrived, no doubt. The general looked up and found him. “Ah, our other supernatural representative has arrived. I call Regent Asgard to the stand.”

  Leif hesitated only a beat. He took the appointed place next to Corbette, feeling very much like he joined him in the stocks. Zetian, as his advisor, sat next to him. “We need to talk,” he murmured to Corbette.

  Corbette stared straight ahead.

  Zetian nudged Leif with her foot. A sick knot formed in his belly.

  Admiral Jameson surveyed the crowd. He’d apparently learned stage presence since Leif had last seen him; he played to the audience and rode on its moods. “Lord Corbette says he doesn’t know where his animals are at all times even with his magic woo-woo.” Jameson paused for the crowd to boo. “And he thinks we won’t defend ourselves against these terrorists? Walking into our shelters and barracks and massacring our brave soldiers and civilians?”

  “Barracks?” Leif looked at Zetian, who shook her head.

  “And speaking of magic,” Jameson settled back into his tale, like some cowboy by the fire, spinning his audience closer, “how can this supernatural king deny knowledge of Fort Seattle? Two soldiers, undeniably human, brave men, loyal men. Lieutenant John Wallis: thirty-four years old. A husband. Father. Proud to serve the new administration to fight back our enemies and bring peace again to our cities. A loyal soldier.” His voice rose with the murmur of the crowd. “And his faithful compatriot Trevor Duquette. A career military man. Bereaved husband and father. His family stolen by these supernatural folk who messed with something they had no business messing with and destroyed the world as we knew it. What do you have to say to that, Lord Corbette?”

  “Human soldiers?” Corbette said. His voice softer and deeper than it should have been. “I have no knowledge of your people’s transgressions.”

  “But two incidences of violence. They walked into the barracks and started shooting, just like your two boys in the Church.” Jameson tightened his hand on his gavel. “These are connected.”

  Beside Leif, Zetian crossed her arms. It sounded like wraiths had taken over the bodies of the two soldiers. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Thunderbirds attacking the House of Ishtar looked doubtful. If the Kivati hadn’t breached the peace, there was still hope for him.

  Leif turned to the audience chamber, following the invisible tether, and found Grace. He could have shot her blindfolded. The Aether sparkled around her, but he felt it more than saw it. She was partially hidden by the mob of humans. She grabbed a scrawny kid by the shirt. He was about eight or nine, a little thing with twig limbs and overlong, greasy hair. A newsboy cap slouched low over his eyes. No one seemed to notice. Grace must know the kid. Leif checked, but he wasn’t one of his blood slaves. At least there was no leash from the hated malachite ring.

  His eyes swept the audience and picked more
urchins out of the mob like mice in a crowded pub. He wondered why he hadn’t seen them before. They were good. Trained. Four or five of them quietly slid through legs and past stuffed back pockets, using the crush for cover. Every eye in the room was on the drama unfolding at the defense gate and not on the pickpockets collecting wallets, purses, jewelry and money clips, buttons and coins. Probably the laces from shoes if they thought they could get away with it. Times were tough; he couldn’t blame them.

  But it made him think of Sven, and how Grace knew the kid, and acid washed his stomach with another unpleasant suspicion.

  Maybe they did belong to him. Maybe there were more out there who needed his help. Food, shelter, clothing, a fucking job.

  And he’d been ignoring them for six months. They were children, Freya curse him.

  He resolved to hunt down his brother’s holdings after this.

  Jameson slapped his hands on the banister in front of Leif. “Regent Asgard, perhaps you could enlighten us to how supernatural elements take over the minds of others. What is the connection between Kivati and those animals of the wild? They can take over crows’ minds; why not a human? Speculate, if you will, how those Kivati boys might have been manipulated into their actions. Come to Lord Corbette’s defense, because he isn’t coming to his own. I’d be perfectly in my rights to see this as an act of war.”

  Leif steepled his fingers. This was it—the chance for peace rested on his shoulders like an activated bomb, and he didn’t know which wires to snip. He suddenly wished for Sven’s silver tongue. Jameson, in his own bid for power, thought to put Leif and Corbette at each other’s throats. Divide and conquer—the truest path to domination. Leif thought about his newfound dependents and shored up his resolve. He could do better. They deserved it.

  “Admiral Jameson,” Leif said. “The Kivati and the Drekar are distinctly different races and in no way represent the supernatural population as a whole. But I can tell you what is generally known about Corbette’s people. They manifest their power at puberty, when they go through a spiritual journey and connect with their totem animal. I believe it to be some sort of vision quest. After that time, they can transform between human and animal shape and have some other powers associated with the Aether. Only some can connect with wild animals, like crows, in order to pass along information. But I’ve never heard of them connecting to a human.”