After Annette vanishes into the darkness of the tunnel, Lucian stands sentry before the opening and waits, while Foley takes a seat on a large wooden box and finagles with the charm bracelet. Ella and Amy both stand near the exit to the room, each holding a flashlight pointed at the floor. Though they’re hard to see clearly over the glare of the light, I can tell they’re getting impatient. They aren’t comfortable hanging out with vampires for so long. And really, I can’t blame them. I shouldn’t be comfortable either. Not after that disaster scene upstairs.
I guess my interactions with Lucian and Foley have worn down my fear response.
It remains to be seen whether that’s a good thing or not.
I hover near Foley and watch him work on the bracelet, hoping to pick up some tips and tricks I can use if I come across this sort of seal spell again. Methuselah agents clearly have no objection to using the spell, so it’s possible the spell will be relevant to future investigations centered on the rogue practitioner group. Another attempt to summon an ancient and powerful creature. Some other style of plot DSI has yet to see the rogues employ.
After all the crap these supernatural groups have slung at me over the past year, I want to be prepared to combat their tactics in every possible way. Now, that apparently includes spells of my own.
Don’t think on it too hard, I remind myself as my thoughts drift toward the jumbled mess of feelings about my death, resurrection, and mysterious magic. You can freak out when you’re alone, after your chat with Lucian on the roof, after he inevitably delivers some “big” news you don’t want to hear, after you escape from your teammates and manage to shut yourself away from the world. You can shove your face into a pillow and scream and cry all you want when you’re alone. But not now. Not yet. Hold it together a little bit longer, Cal. The night is almost over.
“Okay,” Foley says. He jangles the charm bracelet for emphasis. “Doesn’t look like there are any traps hidden behind the main seal spell, so this should be pretty straightforward. Thirty seconds or less.” He drops the bracelet into his open palm and holds his other hand, the one that was previously missing fingers, over the glittering tangle of gold. Eyes shut, he concentrates his magic in his outstretched hand, his fingers glowing green.
With my new magic sense, I get to watch as thin green rings leap from Foley’s fingertips and surround the different baubles on the bracelet. The gold charms flash yellow in response, the spell inside them fighting the interference from Foley’s magic. But without Lizzie to reinforce the magic stored in the bracelet, the spell quickly collapses under the weight of Foley’s power. The little gold baubles crack like eggs, and the magic energy spills out in small puffs of yellow smoke.
The instant the last tiny whorl of Lizzie Banks’ magic vanishes into the ether, five shades appear in the room. All of them are noble vampires, and none of them look anything alike, indicating Lizzie “collected” them from different noble houses. One of the women in the group, a regal redhead wearing a conservative ball gown, breathes a sigh of relief and gives Foley a quick bow before disappearing as quickly as she appeared. Two of the men, one shaking his head in shame, the other whispering a prayer in a language I don’t speak, both answer the Call to the Eververse not half a minute later, vanishing within seconds of each other. And the other woman doesn’t linger long either. She adjusts the ghostly manifestation of her stylish pantsuit and raises her chin in a dignified manner before she literally walks off the Earth and into her afterlife.
The only one who sticks around is a man of moderate build with a fancy haircut, a neatly trimmed beard, and a pair of glasses that remind me of…
Foley drops the bracelet on the floor and blurts out, “Dad?”
The man gives Foley a sad smile and says, “Evening, son.”
Lucian spins around and gawks in disbelief at the shade of the man who used to be his employer. “Lord Tepes, I…”
The man holds up his hand. “Please, Lucian, none of that pageantry tonight. We’ve known each other for ninety years. You can call me Roger.”
Lucian bows his head. “I don’t have the right to call you by a familiar name. I failed you.”
“Nonsense,” Roger snaps. “You helped stop my vile excuse of a daughter from gaining a North American beachhead for the Black Knights, and you nearly got yourself killed protecting my son in the process. I saw the whole thing while I was trapped in that bracelet. All your hard work. All your sacrifices. Your bravery. You deserve a commendation, not whatever shame you think you ought to feel.”
He sighs, pity and sorrow bleeding into his expression. “You are not the only one responsible for the Knights getting the drop on the Parliament. That was a mistake we all made. The house elders with sticks up our asses who thought we were smarter than some young, brash rogues. The intelligence leaders with two centuries of experience who refused to believe our security networks could have holes. All those who refused see the warning signs that the Knights were a threat to the very foundation of vampire society. All those who refused to admit that such a long-standing society could be threatened.
“The fault of this catastrophe does not only fall on the survivors, Lucian. It falls on us all. So don’t drown yourself in misplaced guilt.” He lifts his hand to grasp Lucian’s shoulder, then remembers he’s not corporeal and instead curls his fingers into a tight fist. “Accept the small piece of responsibility that belongs to you, put it in your pocket, and move on. You’re too good a man to let yourself get bogged down by a heavy heart.”
Lucian straightens his posture and nods, resolute. “Yes, sir.”
Roger does a quick scan of the room, attention lingering on Ella and Amy for a thoughtful moment before he homes in on me. “Ah, the tenacious Crow boy.” He tucks his hands inside the pockets of his ethereal suit pants and throws me a grin. “I’ve been impressed by you all day. The way you faced Lizzie when she had you tied to that chair threw me for a loop. I’ve never seen someone, human or otherwise, act like that under the threat of a noble vampire’s wrath. And the way you fought back in that hall.” He whistles. “You pulled off some smart moves. Very impressive.”
I’m not sure whether to be embarrassed or appreciative, but I blush either way. “Uh, thanks.”
“No, thank you.” He drops his head in a sign of deep respect. “You almost lost your life several times protecting my son today. Regardless of your motives, I owe you a great debt. I only wish I could make good on that obligation. Alas…” He gestures to his spectral form. “I’m afraid it’s too late for me to affect much of anything in the world.”
“That’s okay.” I offer him a weak smile. “I’m sure you can pass the IOU on to Lucian.”
“Quite right.” He points at Lucian. “You are going to make this up to the Crow, right? He really stuck his neck out for you.”
Lucian flicks me a sour look. “Of course, sir.”
“Good.”
Finally, Roger turns to face his son, who’s been staring at his father on the verge of tears since the man blinked into existence. Roger flexes his hands again and again, visibly aching to touch Foley as his expression softens into such a powerful mix of love and regret that I have the urge to look away, to back out of the room and shut the door, because I feel as if I’m intruding on a moment too personal for an outsider’s eyes. Roger examines Foley, noting the torn, bloody clothing, the grievous wounds still healing, the hunched shoulders, the repressed shaking—all that pent-up trauma desperately trying to break free from Foley’s feigned composure.
“Oh, son,” he says, brushing his ghostly hand over Foley’s cheek. “I’m so sorry this mess got dropped into your lap. So sorry I failed to protect you from Lizzie. So sorry I can’t stay here and help you manage the household. So sorry for everything you’ve been through today, and everything you will inevitably have to face from here on out. You should’ve had so much more time to prepare for the role you’ve been thrust into, and it’s totally my fault that you’ll be stumbling into the role of a house e
lder half blind. I’ve done you a great disservice, Foley. If you never forgive me, I’ll understand.”
“I don’t care about any of that,” Foley replies, voice cracking. “I don’t care if running the house is hard. I don’t care if my life is threatened. I don’t care if the Knights come back for vengeance. I don’t care if vampire politics bore me to death. I just want…I just want…” His entire body is shaking now. “I just want my father back. My family back.”
Roger looks stricken. “Son, I’m sorry, I can’t…”
Foley wipes at his eyes. “I know.”
“I’d give anything to stay with you, but I have nothing left to give.” He casts his gaze in a seemingly random direction, a wistful look on his face. The Call must be urging him to cross over. It apparently gets more persistent the longer you refuse to comply, some innate force of the universe attempting to realign a misplaced piece on the vast board of life and death. Shades belong in the Eververse. Earth is for those whose hearts still beat.
“You have strength, Foley,” Roger continues. “I saw it today. So don’t let yourself fall into doubt. You can do anything you set your mind to, for the good of the house and for the good of yourself. I’m proud to leave House Tepes to you, and I’m proud to call you my son. Please live a fulfilling life. Don’t limit yourself. Don’t ruminate in self-pity and depression. Don’t let the world step over you and leave you in the dust. Embrace everything you have, and embrace everything you can achieve.” He leans close to Foley, and their foreheads brush, slightly distorting Roger’s form, which is growing less substantial. “Can you do that for me, son?”
Tears spring free from Foley’s eyes, but he nods anyway. “Yes.”
“That’s my boy.” Roger pulls away, smiling the way a person can only smile when they stand on a vast and lonesome precipice. “I love you.”
Foley replies in Romanian, but it’s easy to interpret as, “I love you too.”
Roger responds in the same language, with another phrase that needs no explanation. “Goodbye.”
And then Roger Banks, Elder of House Tepes, is gone.
Foley’s legs give out, and he finally releases the tidal wave of grief that’s been battering at his heart since his family first fell to the Knights. He breaks down into a gross, sobbing mess, uncontrollable shakes racking his entire body, tears dripping from his chin onto the cold, dirty floor.
Lucian takes a step forward as if he wants to embrace and comfort Foley, but he stops short, ambivalent, like he’s unsure whether it’s his place as a Tepes employee to get so personal with the new house elder.
I, however, don’t care if I break European vampire decorum, so I drop to my knees in front of Foley and set my hands on his shoulders.
Foley hangs his head. “I’m sorry…I shouldn’t…but I can’t…”
“Shh,” I say. “It’s all right.” I’m not always the best at making people feel better when they’re facing these kinds of awful emotions—I can barely control my own PTSD some days—but I’ve managed well enough with Cooper’s anxiety before, and in this particular situation, some familiar words of wisdom rise to the surface of my memory.
Injecting sympathy into my smile, I tell Foley, “Your father was right. You’re not weak. You’re not. Hell, you’ve made it through more in twenty-seven years than most do in a lifetime.” I slip my hands into his own and gently squeeze. “You’re a flawed person, just like the rest of us, and from time to time, you will stumble. What matters isn’t that you fall—it’s that you get back up and keep going.”
Foley stares at me with tear-filled eyes. “You mean that?”
“It’s true whether I mean it or not.” I release his hands. “Take that to heart.”
He bites his lip, stifling his sobs. “I…I will.”
“Then you’ll do fine.”
As I rise, Lucian sinks to one knee and wraps an arm around Foley. “Hey, kiddo. I think I hear Annette coming back.” He speaks into Foley’s ear but meets my eyes and slowly nods once in appreciation. I return the gesture, because he’s done more than enough tonight to deserve my own gratitude. “How about we go find a nice hotel to stay in tonight? Get you something to eat, a hot bath, a soft bed? We’ll head back to Arad in the morning, after you get some rest.”
Foley sniffles, but he’s sitting up straighter than before, my assertion combined with his father’s bolstering a tiny spark of confidence inside him. “Okay. That sounds good. We should also probably talk to DSI, since they’re involved. Give a formal statement for the house.”
“I can do that,” Lucian says reflexively. Then he realizes he needs to practice giving Foley responsibility, since Foley is now, indisputably, the new Lord Tepes. He covers with, “How about I handle the foreign particulars while you work on straightening out the domestic mess back home? There’s far too much to untangle for one person to manage it all. Since we’re a little short on manpower, we’ll have to delegate as best we can. We’ll give Annette some work to do too.”
Foley deliberates for a moment. “Yeah, that makes sense. You know more about Aurora than me, and I’m more caught up on current house affairs than you, since you were away for such a long time. So you speak to DSI and the other relevant Aurora officials, and I’ll focus on reorganizing the house assets.”
“Perfect.” Lucian pats his arm. “Come on then. Let’s get you up.”
Foley bats Lucian’s hand away and stands up on his own, brushes the dirt from the shredded, bloody remnants of his suit, and wipes the snot off his face with the back of his hand. Not quite dignified, but closer than anyone could reasonably expect him to be after his recent experiences. He says to me, voice still thick from his breakdown, “Cal, I just want you to know that if you ever need help with anything related to the Knights, or Methuselah, or even your strange new magic, please don’t hesitate to call me. You died trying to save me tonight, and that wasn’t fair to you for a number of reasons, not the least of which being that we hardly know each other. But you made the sacrifice anyway, because you’re a good man like that. So consider House Tepes in your debt. We owe you a lot. I owe you a lot.”
My first instinct is to decline his offer. A DSI agent having such an overt personal connection to a noble vampire house will set off the alarms of other supernatural groups, particularly the ICM. But then the sore spots I’ve been ignoring for the past twenty-four hours snap back into focus: Erica being punished by Iyanda for helping DSI, Cooper being spirited off to Siberia for aiding and abetting my escape from Delos, Aurora’s civilian population repeatedly suffering terrible casualties under the weight of a war that is not theirs to fight.
I take my sense of restraint and shove it up propriety’s ass.
I cannot indefinitely navigate this escalating shadow war with no powerful allies to call upon when I’m in dire straits. Neither can DSI. Eventually, we’re going to need more help than our tenuous alliances with the ICM and the Lycanthrope Republic and other supernatural groups will provide. After tonight’s display by the Black Knights, exemplifying what sort of nightmare scenarios this war may bring us more and more frequently as time wears on, a solid relationship with the richest and most powerful noble vampire house is not a resource I can afford to surrender just to avoid a hissy fit from the ICM High Court.
I offer my hand to Foley. “Much appreciated. I’ll be in touch.”
Foley shakes my hand. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”
Annette emerges from the tunnel. “Coast is clear, but the human crowd outside is growing large and rowdy. We should hurry along.”
Foley gives Ella and Amy, who haven’t budged since Roger emerged from the bracelet, a short wave and a faint smile, and says to Lucian, “I hope you’re planning to pay for dinner and the room, Luc. I left my wallet at that detective’s house.”
“Don’t worry, kiddo.” Lucian chuckles. “I got it covered.”
Foley pouts. “That’s ‘Lord Tepes’ to you, oh lowly servant.”
Lucian gives him a look. “
Don’t push your luck, brat.” He ruffles Foley’s hair and smacks him on the back. “Now off you go.”
Foley’s cheeks turn pink, and he throws a half-serious scowl at Lucian even as he obeys and marches into the tunnel. Lucian represses laughter as he follows in his new lord’s wake, and even Annette hides a faint smirk behind her hand as she turns around and prepares to navigate the length of the musty tunnel one last time. Just as the three of them begin to merge with the darkness, Lucian glances over his shoulder, at me, and makes a quick signal with his fingers. Four. Zero.
Forty minutes. The time left until our rendezvous on the roof.
I blink twice to acknowledge I understand.
Lucian returns his attention to what’s in front of him—Foley—and a moment later, all three vampires vanish into the murk.
The moment their footsteps fade into silence, Ella clears her throat and says, “I hope you don’t think quoting me is going to get you out of trouble.”
I do a slow one-eighty to face her and Amy. “Oh, you noticed that, did you?”
She taps her flashlight against her thigh, unimpressed. “Yes, I noticed. And I’m very flattered you think I’m a quotable mentor, Cal, but that’s beside the point.”
Amy flicks her flashlight on and off. “Point is, you have some serious explaining to do. Starting with what the fuck you were doing running around town with these damn vampires, and ending with how the fuck you came back from the dead with magic powers.”
Day Killer (City of Crows Book 5) Page 22
