Day Killer (City of Crows Book 5)

by Coulson, Clara

  “You make it sound as if I like what I’ve already heard.”

  “Well, the next bit involves Aurora, so I figure you’ll like it even less.”

  “What’s going on with Aurora? It’s been quiet here lately.”

  “Only if you don’t know where to look.” He shifts from the chair to what must be an old bed with worn springs. “It’s been quiet on the surface, no overt attacks, no high-profile murders. After the shit with the Wellington Center and Delos’ plague, you’ve all got your eyes peeled for those sorts of loud threats. You haven’t been paying attention to what’s happening in the shadows.”

  “And you have?” I scratch my chin, not sure I buy his claim that no one at DSI noticed a growing threat. I wonder if my teammates neglected to mention any inklings they have about potential supernatural threats in the city. They claimed several times they didn’t want to stress me out with DSI problems during my recovery. “You haven’t even been back, have you?”

  “I didn’t need to go back,” Lucian counters. “During a recent investigation of MG activity in Germany, I stumbled upon some interesting tidbits the rogue practitioners had been gathering about the Knights’ upcoming plans to create a beachhead in North America by riding the coattails of Methuselah themselves—using the power vacuum left in Aurora by Delos’ capture.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised, kid. It was bound to happen.” He lies down, the thump of his head hitting the pillow muffling the rest of the sound coming through the speaker. “The Knights have goals too, and many of them align with the MG’s, like expansion of their influence into new territory. Aurora, being a mecca of supernatural activity, is like a shining beacon. And now that the MG has been subdued by the Delos scandal and the subsequent ICM-led manhunt for his co-conspirators, the Knights have the perfect opportunity to make a move on your city. They’re not passing it up.”

  He inhales sharply. “What I was working on shortly before the Parliament attack was a set of countermeasures designed to obstruct their expansion into Aurora. I made a list of known Knight intelligence operatives who’d recently jumped the Atlantic for no discernible reason, along with a set of potential targets they might move on to assert their position. Yesterday, I cracked their plot wide open, and I was planning to head back to Aurora myself after today’s meeting, along with an expanded team of Federation spies, to set into motion a plot of my own that would trip the Knights up and push them back to Europe for the time being.”

  “But now your plans have been ruined.”

  “To an extent. I’m working on salvaging them as we speak.”

  “Really?” I push away from the nightstand and slink toward my doorway. “Because it sounds like you’re about to take a nap.”

  He snorts. “Kid, I lost just as much blood as Foley did, if not more. I only escaped the Knights’ attack force thanks to sheer luck. So I need a pit stop, okay? Vampires are strong and fast and heal pretty quick, but we’re not truly immortal. Cut me some slack, will you?”

  I bite my lip. “Sure. Fine. So how are you salvaging your plan?” Aurora has barely recovered from the events of the past year. If the Knights swoop in and deal the city another blow, the social order will crack that much more. There’s only so much damage it can take before the whole thing comes crashing down. Eventually, all societies crumble in the face of everlasting war. “And is there anything I can do to make sure it works?”

  “There’s the Kinsey I know. Always eager to protect and serve.” A hint of amusement returns to his tone, but he still sounds like he hasn’t slept in a year. “You don’t need to do any more than I’ve already told you. Your job is to protect Foley, full stop. As long as he keeps breathing, we can force his sister out of power and retake the house. Which is the ultimate goal here, make no mistake. Aurora’s important, but House Tepes has such vast holdings on every continent…We cannot let Lizzie rule that house, kid. The sheer amount of power that will give the Knights will accelerate their plans by decades.”

  Annoyed but understanding, I reply, “But if that’s your ultimate goal, then where does saving Aurora from the Knights come into all this? Shouldn’t the city be a sacrifice you’re willing to make in order to protect Foley? Shouldn’t you send him somewhere far away from here where there are no Black Knight agents?”

  “Normally, yeah, I’d do that,” he says. “Aurora is just one of many stepping stones. It’s not that important in the grand scheme. But you see, there’s another key element to all this. During the attack on the Parliament, Lizzie unwittingly revealed to me that she’s part of the main strike force tasked with taking control of Aurora. Her and six other nobles are the ‘captains’ responsible for the takeover plot. Combine this with what I previously learned—that the push to take Aurora will happen this Friday—and we have a perfect recipe to remove Lizzie from the picture. We turn the tables on her. We lure her into a place she thinks she has the upper hand, and attack.”

  “Friday is tomorrow.”

  “Yup. Short timeline. But I’ve had shorter to orchestrate a major strike. Don’t worry about it. As soon as I take a much-needed nap, I’ll get back on the saddle. I have five other agents who I know I can trust, scattered across Germany, Austria, and France. I sent them a coded message earlier, ordering them to head to a secret location that I didn’t have listed in any of my reports. We’re going to meet up there, smooth out the logistics of our counterattack, and then take a Bridge to Aurora, like Foley did. We’ll be in place by Friday evening. I promise.”

  “What exactly is going to happen on Friday?”

  “There’s a big charity gala at one of your local museums. All the top players in Aurora are going to be there, including your mayor and four other major political targets in important city positions that the Knights seek to control. Remember when I said they’ve been moving agents oversees since the Delos thing unraveled? Well, most of those agents have weaseled into high-level positions on the staffs of the relevant offices. The Knights’ plot is a classic: they’re going to assassinate your city leaders, frame it as a terrorist attack, and use the vacancies left behind by the deaths to fill those leadership positions with their own agents.”

  “Shit.” I press my forehead against the doorframe. “How the hell did nobody notice them gaining this much influence so quickly?”

  “Because they’re good at their jobs, Kinsey. They’re spies. And they’re vampires. Every last one of them is at least a century old. They’ve had more time to practice their craft than any normal human spy can get.” He sighs again, harder this time. “Thing is, that level of competency isn’t usually a threat to normal human society, because we vampires typically use spies to spy on opposing houses, or on other supernatural groups. It’s only with the rise of the Knights as a rogue faction that the advanced talents the Federation has been cultivating in our numbers have become a threat beyond the supernatural underworld. This is unprecedented.”

  I rub my temple. My head’s starting to ache. “So, let me see if I got this right. Lizzie Banks, Foley’s evil older sister, is heading to Aurora to assassinate our mayor and several other major political players in order to usurp control of the city for the Black Knights. You, along with some of your fellow spies, are planning to stop the assassinations and take down Lizzie’s group of Knights. Once Lizzie is fettered, Foley can wrest back control of House Tepes so that the Knights can’t use its vast resources to more effectively roll out their plans for world domination. And my role in all this is to babysit Foley and pray the Knights don’t track him down and murder us both in cold blood.”

  “Yeah, you got it, kid. Good job.”

  “I hate you, you know that?”

  “I may have an inkling.”

  I lightly beat my forehead against the doorframe. “All right. I’ll do it. But you better keep up your end of the bargain, you hear me? If Mayor Burbank gets assassinated, it’s on you.”

  “Understood.”

  “Oh, boy,” I breathe ou
t, “I can’t wait to tell my teammates about this. They’re going to pitch a fit.”

  “You can’t tell them,” he says. “Not a word. Until Saturday, when this is all over.”

  “Huh?” I spit out. “Why not?”

  “Because spies, Kinsey. Remember? All over Aurora, planted everywhere. Including the mayor’s office, which DSI reports to. You really think that after all the trouble DSI has caused the MG over the past year that the Knights aren’t staring at your buddies with a magnifying glass? Only reason they don’t have agents inside your shiny new fortress is because you all screen new employees for supernatural traits, for the express purpose of weeding out potential spies.”

  He moves on his bed, springs squeaking loudly. “Look, it’s not that I don’t trust your teammates. Riker and the rest are swell. But if you tell them what’s coming, it’s going to leak back to the Knights, somehow, some way. And if they get wind of my counterattack before it happens, they’ll change their plans and Lizzie will get away. And if she retreats, we will lose the chance to wrest back control of the house. And that can’t happen. Or it’s over. The Knights win.

  “House Tepes simply has too much power, too much money, too much everything. It was their primary acquisition during the attack. Getting Foley out alive? That was our side’s greatest victory, our only victory. Don’t ruin it, Kinsey.” His voice grows cold and dangerous. “Keep your mouth shut. For twenty-four hours, that’s all you have to do. Stay in your apartment, watch over Foley, and keep your goddamn mouth shut. Got it?”

  It takes me a second to speak over the knot in my throat. “Uh, yeah. Got it.”

  “Good,” he replies in a falsetto. “I’ll be in town sometime tomorrow. Try not to blow anything up before then.”

  The call cuts off.

  Feeling a sudden repulsion to my phone, I shove it into my back pocket and wipe my hands on my pants.

  I stumble out into the hallway, exhaustion hanging off my bones, and close the bedroom door behind me to block my view of Foley Banks. I make it to my couch and let myself tumble over the arm, flopping down like a limp fish onto the well-worn cushions. I drop my gun on the coffee table and switch on the TV, but I don’t bother to select a channel. Finally, I snatch the blanket off the back of the couch. Cocooned inside the fraying fabric, I shut my eyes tight and pray tomorrow ends better than today.

  One freaking afternoon, I think as I drift off to sleep. After three months away from home, all it took was one freaking afternoon for everything to go to shit.

  Chapter Three

  I dream about my mother. About the day she died. About the magic she never told me she had. About the monster who drew her into a duel that led to her death. About the former employees of her bakery I spoke with on the phone during my months of rehab, who all informed me they hardly remembered the day of the fire—memories smudged like chalk brushed by an errant hand. About all the lies she told me, and the possibilities of why, and her face, her sad, sad face, tears glinting in the firelight, as she said goodbye. I dream through all these awful things a dozen times, before a clanking sound wakes me up.

  For a second, I don’t understand where I am, eyes directed at a TV playing a rerun of some HGTV tiny house show. Then the noxious info dump from the night before drops onto my head like a bucket of cold water, and I sit up straight, a series of swears already forming on my tongue. But I don’t make a sound, because another clanking noise emerges from the kitchen behind me, followed by the telltale rattle of silverware. Somebody’s in my kitchen. And there’s only one person it can be.

  The wafting scent of bacon and eggs hits my nose, and I slowly turn my head to peer across the hall, through the kitchen doorway. An arm flashes into view near the edge of the stove before disappearing farther into the room again. Baffled, I toss the blanket aside, rise, and quietly pad into the kitchen. I stop on the threshold, eying the two pans on the stove, one crackling with bacon, the other filled with half-finished scrambled eggs. A few feet away, loading bread into my toaster, is the vampire who stumbled into my house on the verge of death last night.

  I guess his nap did him good—along with the blood bags.

  He must’ve taken a shower while I was asleep, because he’s no longer covered in blood. In fact, he’s not covered in much at all. He’s wearing a loose blue T-shirt, which looks suspiciously like something from my closet, along with a tight pair of black designer-label boxers, which are way out of my price range. Strangely, he’s also wearing a genuine Rolex on his left wrist, and, I can see as I lean forward to glimpse his face, a pair of glasses.

  “Are you going to stand there and ogle my ass all morning?” Foley says without looking my way.

  Heat creeps up my cheeks. “I wasn’t ogling.”

  “Sure.” He adjusts the dial on the toaster and presses the lever, then finally turns around. Without the red streaks on his face and the thick globs of blood in his hair, he looks even younger than he did last night. The glasses don’t help either.

  “Although,” I say, “I do have to admit you look a bit like a sexy librarian.”

  His eyebrows shoot up over the rims of his glasses. “I can’t say I’ve heard that one before.” He has a faint accent, but it’s muddled. Vaguely Eastern European with a dash of England in there somewhere. The result of extensive travel in his childhood, maybe. “Then again, most people I know are too afraid to be forward about my appearance.”

  “Why? Aren’t most of them older than you? They can take you in a fight, can’t they?”

  He frowns, almost pouts. I hit a sore spot. Vampire seniority is directly correlated to age, on a scale most humans would struggle to comprehend. At twenty-seven, every member of his family, and the other noble families, probably treats—er, treated—him like a hapless toddler.

  “That doesn’t apply to people like you,” he says curtly.

  “People like me?” I reply. “You mean human? I’m not afraid of you either.”

  “Why not? I’m a born vampire. I could rip you apart.” He moves to cross his arms, then notices the eggs are in need of assistance. He snatches the spatula off the counter and starts to work them quickly so they don’t overcook. “I don’t think I’ve met a human in the know who doesn’t fear me on sight.”

  “Well, first off, you’re a baby vampire, so you’re not exactly the ultimate boss.” I step farther into the kitchen and grab the plates and silverware he piled on the table, setting them out for the meal. “Secondly, you look about as threatening as a puppy, what with the shaggy hair and the glasses and the slim build. And finally, I’ve fought things way bigger and more powerful than you, including an Etruscan Psychopomp and an Egyptian death god. Sure, you can still take me in a fight, Banks, but I’m not going to cower in your presence.”

  He cocks his head to the side and stares at me, as if making some complex determination about his first impression. I notice his eyes are no longer red, but hazel. Must be an eye-color charm in his glasses. Better solution than Lucian employs; that guy just walks around wearing a hat, with his amber irises on full display in the shadow of the brim. Somehow though, no one has noticed the oddity yet. At least, I hope no one has. Lucian’s not known for his mercy.

  Foley finally nods in approval. “You sound like an interesting person, Mr. Kinsey. I didn’t know what to expect of you. Lucian only told me he was sending me to a Crow’s apartment to hide out. I thought he’d finally lost his mind. A Crow, of all people? Willing to harbor a noble vampire on the run? But you took me in without asking any questions.”

  “I mean, you were kind of bleeding everywhere, and your eyes were visible, so…”

  “So it was a matter of pragmatism?” He finishes the eggs and sets the pan aside, then reaches for the tongs to turn the sizzling bacon strips. “You were trying to keep the supernatural under wraps, as per your job description?”

  “If you’re implying I would’ve left you to bleed out in the hall otherwise, then no. I don’t like vampires much, to be sure, but I’m not th
at big an asshole.” I open the fridge and pull out a jug of orange juice. Next to the fridge is the cup cabinet, and I go hunting inside it for some juice glasses. “I don’t abandon people in need.”

  “You don’t like vampires much?” He turns both burners off. “What we’d do to you?”

  “Lucian butchered my old cop partner and dropped his corpse onto our patrol car.”

  Foley gawks at me. “Oh, that’s…terrible.”

  “Mac, my partner, was one of Delos’ informants.” My grip tightens on the OJ jug, warping the plastic. “He was almost certainly brainwashed by that fucker’s magic, but once you’ve been tainted by Delos, there’s not much recourse. Lucian was doing his job, taking out as many MG agents as possible…but he went too far. Way too far. He let himself get angry, and he went on an overly public rampage, leaving bodies everywhere. Mac was the last of his victims.” I set the jug and cups on the table. “It was Lucian’s attack that spurred me into joining DSI.”

  Foley cringes, his glasses sliding down his nose. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you had that kind of history with Lucian. This whole situation must be really awkward.”

  “That’s one way to put it.”

  He brings over the pans and sets them on the potholders he laid out ahead of time. The toast pops up a second later, and he shuffles over to the toaster to grab the two slices. I reach into the fridge again, snatch the grape jelly to complete the meal, and sink into the chair directly across from his spot as he returns to the table. He offers me a piece of toast. I take it and observe him as he lowers himself carefully into his own chair. He’s still moving a little stiffly.

  “You feeling better?” I ask as I spread some jelly across my toast.

  He nods, scooping eggs and bacon strips onto his plate with a fork. “Much better than last night, that’s for sure. I lost so much blood, my healing factor slowed all the way down to human speed.” He pauses, and a sheepish smile crosses his face. “I was going to say, ‘You can’t imagine how bad that was,’ before I remembered you are in fact a normal human and thus heal at human speed. So I guess you do know what that’s like.”