The Eldritch Conspiracy (Blood Song)

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The Eldritch Conspiracy (Blood Song) Page 22

by Adams, Cat


  security being so tight. Most of the

  restaurants are on the other side of the

  island.”

  Okay, that had me totally confused.

  Yeah, I was on Serenity. But Gran has a

  lovely apartment in an assisted living

  facility in Santa Maria. “Gran, what are

  you talking about?”

  “Serenity, of course. Didn’t Dawna

  tell you? I sublet my place on the

  mainland and moved here so that I could

  see your mother more often without

  having to make a long, expensive trip.”

  What the hell? No, Dawna hadn’t told

  me. Of course, her grandmother might

  not have told her. Or Dawna might have

  lost track, what with all her own

  wedding stuff going on.

  I made myself sound cheerful as I

  said, “Well, now we’ve just got to get

  together. After all, I’m already here.

  Have you been to the compound? It’s

  amazing. You really should see the

  place. We can have a good, long visit.”

  “Oh, I’d like that. I really would.” She

  sounded as if she meant it, but I could

  still hear a little thread of something

  fishy in her voice. Whatever it was, I’d

  find out when I saw her. Gran has never

  been able to keep a secret, and unlike my

  mother and me, she’s dispositionally

  incapable of being sneaky. “I’ll check to

  see when the shuttle runs out there.”

  Okay, that wasn’t good. Normally

  she’d be having me drive her. Why

  didn’t she want me to see where she

  lived? I opened my mouth to say

  something, but she was babbling, trying

  to make sure I didn’t get the chance to

  ask any pointed questions.

  “And honey, I want you to know how

  proud I am of you. My grandbaby, in a

  royal wedding! It’s so exciting. You’ll

  have to tell me all about it. I can’t wait

  to see the dress you’ll be wearing. I bet

  you’ll look so pretty.”

  “Thanks. I’ll see what I can do. In the

  meantime, it’ll take me a little time to

  work out the details, but I’ll get back to

  you as soon as I can. Okay?”

  “You do that, honey, you do that. I

  love you, baby.”

  “Love you, too.”

  I hung up the phone with mixed

  emotions: Love, frustration, and worry

  mingled with happiness at having

  actually heard her voice for the first time

  in months. My gran is a good woman.

  She isn’t perfect, but who is? But she

  was

  hiding

  something—probably

  something about my mother. I was going

  to find out what it was.

  21

  “I’m supposed to be guarding you.” I

  kept my tone light and pleasant, but

  inside I was seething as I sat in Queen

  Lopaka’s office, having a “brief

  conversation” with my cousin. Adriana

  had begun using her mother’s office

  when Queen Chiyoko arrived; I bet that

  had been a calculated move, to prevent

  Chiyoko from going through Lopaka’s

  things and to keep people from getting

  used to seeing Chiyoko in Lopaka’s

  place.

  Adriana had practically begged for

  my help when we’d had lunch on her

  yacht. Now I kept getting shunted aside.

  First she’d left me behind to get the

  dresses. Then she’d said that I wouldn’t

  be needed today as she’d be in meetings

  and a state dinner. Tomorrow, because

  she’d be in meetings all day, she

  suggested I go shopping. Shopping, for

  God’s sake. What the hell? It was worse

  than annoying. It was insulting.

  I know, and I am sorry. But none of

  the prophets, myself included, sees any

  threat to me this evening, and I would

  rather not have … tension between you

  and those previously assigned to guard

  me.

  Tension? I hadn’t been tense, but now

  I was getting that way. Was there some

  sort of political pissing matching going

  on among the security agents? Because

  that’s the surest recipe for betrayal.

  Celia, please? For me? I do

  understand how you feel. But it was

  hard enough convincing my regular

  bodyguards you were needed on the

  mainland. We used the excuse that you

  had actual experience with monsters.

  But we are on Serenity now.…

  I saved your life on the mainland,

  and it wasn’t from monsters.

  She sighed. Yes, you did. And it made

  the others look bad. They died and you

  survived.

  I suddenly put two and two together.

  Which made things worse. There was

  only your word, and mine, that the

  gunmen killed the guards.

  I wouldn’t have thought it possible,

  but yes.

  That is so stupid. But typical. People

  don’t rise to the level of bodyguarding

  members of a royal family without drive

  and ambition. Pride rides right along

  with those. No doubt some of the agents

  were just fine with me. And some of

  them weren’t. Their skill was being

  called into question. How could it not

  be? Probably the same thing was

  happening with Dahlmar’s people.

  Miller & Creede would definitely make

  all but the best look bad.

  Adriana was trying to soothe the

  wounded pride of both loyalists and

  detractors. I let out a slow breath. So

  long as it doesn’t actually put you at

  risk, who am I to argue? We need your

  people on their game and at their best,

  not distracted by petty bullshit. I guess

  I can be big about it. Fine. I’ll shop.

  I’m going to need a couple more

  lavalavas anyway. And it’ll give me a

  chance to check in on my gran.

  She nearly collapsed in relief. I

  understand rock and hard place. Been

  there. Thank you. Truly.

  I shrugged. Whatever. But you realize

  that this is making me totally useless.

  Her face actually showed surprise at

  thi s. No! That’s not true at all. You

  saved my life and that of my mother on

  the mainland. A couple of sentences

  from you in the back of the limousine

  has discomfited my mother’s greatest

  rival more effectively than all of my

  reasoned arguments. You have been far

  more helpful than even I’d imagined

  you could be—and you don’t know our

  culture all that well.

  I blinked at that. I had?

  Adriana stood and walked to the

  window, keeping her back to me. Her

  hands were clasped lightly behind her

  back; for all appearances to anyone

  watching, she wasn’t meeting with

  anyone at all. Celia, I am not fond of

  Queen Chiyoko. I can admit that. But I

  am coming to bel
ieve that she actually

  is trying to do what she believes is

  right for our people. She believes you

  would be a disaster on the throne and

  that my mother needs a true heir, one

  steeped in our traditions and beliefs,

  who can rule our people.

  Well, she was right about that.

  Especially after hearing some of their

  “traditions

  and

  beliefs.” Well, I’m

  definitely not your girl. I can’t even get

  the

  support

  of

  your

  freaking

  bodyguards.

  Adriana flinched at the bitterness in

  my words, hanging in the air, but didn’t

  argue the point. She walked back to the

  desk, then picked up and put on a lovely

  pearl ring, part of a suite of jewelry laid

  out for her. She continued to speak with

  her mind, which was getting tiring for

  me. Not tiring, as in I was annoyed, but

  tiring, as in exhausted.

  I understand her concern, and would

  be more forgiving, were it not that she

  is so determined to use this situation to

  take my mother’s place as high queen.

  Adriana put on the last of her jewelry

  and stepped toward the couch where I

  was sitting. Now she spoke aloud—she

  had shut me out of her mind as easily as

  closing a door. Someday, I vowed, I was

  going to be able to do that. Projecting is

  all great and good, but I was sick to

  death of having sirens and other

  telepaths wander in and out of my

  thoughts at will. If it took training and

  practice, I’d train and practice. Some

  thoughts should not be available for

  public consumption.

  “Shall we? We don’t want to be late.”

  Adriana gestured toward the door. I

  walked out ahead of her and was

  pleased when Baker and Griffiths

  immediately fell in around us. I forced

  myself to smile, smile, smile as we went

  to join King Dahlmar and the others for a

  private dinner.

  The dining room we were using

  tonight was elegant, decorated in shades

  of sea green, turquoise, and gold. There

  were two layers of linen covering the

  tables, a dark teal underlayer covered by

  creamy white. The dishes were fine

  china, and above each place setting was

  a small bowl made from half an abalone

  shell, cradling flowers floating in water.

  The effect was lovely, and the room

  smelled wonderful even before the food

  started to arrive.

  I had fully intended to sit next to

  Adriana, but we were the last to arrive

  and there was only one place open at

  Dahlmar’s side. Adriana smoothly

  crossed the room to greet Dahlmar, who

  rose … followed quickly by everybody

  else. My cousin’s fiancé helped her into

  the seat between him and Natasha, then

  sat. I took the last remaining chair,

  between Olga and a man who didn’t

  appear to be either Ruslandic or Siren.

  The staff began moving about, pouring

  water, bringing in baskets of fresh baked

  bread that smelled like heaven. I wished,

  mightily, that I could eat bread, but that

  was not going to happen. So I turned my

  head away and distracted myself as best

  I could by checking out my dinner

  companions.

  It turned out that the man I didn’t know

  was the American ambassador, so at

  least we could talk about the weather

  and television we liked. Olga pretended

  not to know English, which suited me

  fine.

  Dahlmar and Adriana only had eyes

  for each other. They were in love, pure

  and simple. He acted proud, protective,

  and possessive. She practically glowed

  every time she looked at him. I was very

  happy that they’d found each other.

  Next to Adriana, Natasha looked …

  odd. There was a strangely vacant

  expression on her face, as if she weren’t

  quite all there. The movement of her

  hand as she reached for her water glass

  was jerky and uncoordinated, so it was

  no surprise that she knocked it over.

  Everyone jumped, and in that instant of

  distraction I felt the flare of magic and

  saw a drop of golden fluid being slipped

  into Adriana’s water glass out of the

  corner of my eye.

  “Don’t drink that,” I ordered as

  Adriana lifted the glass while servants

  cleaned up the spill and cleared away

  the plates from the first course. I leapt to

  my feet so fast that my napkin and fork

  went flying. In the next heartbeat, I was

  at Adriana’s side, reaching for the glass

  and her wrist.

  She froze, giving me a wide-eyed

  look.

  King

  Dahlmar’s

  expression

  darkened. He took the glass from her

  hand, turned to me and said, “Explain,

  please.”

  “There’s something wrong with

  Natasha.” I gestured toward her.

  She was the only person who hadn’t

  pulled away from the table, stood up, or

  otherwise reacted to my racing to the

  rescue. Even now, though her name had

  been spoken and people were looking at

  her, she just sat there, staring blankly

  into space, her expression empty and

  dazed.

  “I’m guessing it’s a compulsion spell

  of some sort. She slipped something into

  that glass while you were all distracted

  by the spilled water.”

  A man suddenly appeared beside me.

  As he stepped into view, I realized I had

  seen him sitting at the table when

  Adriana and I had entered the room and I

  had instinctively “cased” the joint. So,

  family, friend, or member of the

  wedding. But clearly, more than just that.

  He bowed slightly to King Dahlmar. “If I

  may?”

  The king gave a curt nod. “Please do.”

  Who the hell is this? The way he

  spoke to Dahlmar made it obvious he

  was with the Rusland contingent. He

  reminded me a bit of the late, and

  sincerely

  lamented,

  Ivan,

  King

  Dahlmar’s personal bodyguard. Ivan had

  been one scary SOB. A mage of

  considerable skill, Ivan had once gotten

  his king safely out of an attempted coup

  and out of Rusland without a scratch.

  This man was cut from the same cloth,

  only better-looking—tall, dark, and very

  handsome. His hair was cut close to his

  head; there was a touch of gray at each

  temple. He had a square jaw, penetrating

  hazel eyes, and the kind of aristocratic

  bearing that made me wonder if he was a

  royal cousin. I knew from Baker’s

  briefing that the king’s bes
t man was a

  friend from his childhood. Perhaps this

  was that man.

  Most people in Natasha’s position

  would have moved or reacted by now—

  protesting the accusation, arguing her

  innocence—even if she was guilty.

  Instead, the bridesmaid was a prettily

  dressed-up doll with nobody home in

  her eyes.

  Still holding the water glass, the man

  moved with liquid grace around the

  table until he was standing over Natasha.

  I felt power rise in a warm, liquid rush

  as he began murmuring. There was a

  sharp flare of heat and a sound like a

  gunshot. Natasha stiffened in her chair

  and shrieked something in her native

  language.

  He spoke, his tone one of complete

  command. I didn’t have a clue what he

  said, but I could tell he wasn’t talking to

  Natasha. Somehow he’d trapped the

  person controlling her and was forcing

  him or her to answer questions using

  Natasha’s mouth.

  “Damn it. I have got to learn

  Ruslandic,” I muttered softly. Dahlmar

  overheard

  and

  began

  translating,

  speaking so quietly I don’t think anyone

  else could hear.

  “Igor used Natasha to form a link to

  the witch who had taken use of her body.

  The witch swears she was not trying to

  kill Adriana, that she is not connected to

  the Guardians of the Faith.”

  I thought furiously. “What did she put

  in the glass?”

  “Igor?” Dahlmar demanded.

  The mage barked the question in

  Ruslandic. Natasha screamed again,

  twisting and turning in her seat as though

  pinned in place.

  “Peanut oil,” Igor answered.

  Adriana paled a little.

  I turned to her. “I take it you’re

  allergic to peanuts?”

  “Yes,” she said, nodding. “But it

  wouldn’t have killed me.”

  Natasha shouted something that I

  didn’t understand, but suspected was

  along the lines of “See, told you.”

  “What would happen?” Igor asked.

  “I’d break into hives. They are

  miserable, and last for days.”

  “And wouldn’t you look just lovely in

  all your wedding photos?” I noted

  sarcastically.

  It was a petty, catty, and very feminine

  thing to do. At that moment I believed

  what the witch had said. The Guardians

  of the Faith were into bombs and shoot-

  outs, maximum carnage, maximum press

  coverage: in short, terror. This was the

  exact opposite. It had all the signature

  markings of the usual siren bullshit. If

 

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