by Karen Chance
“Some more what?”
“Weapons. We don’t know what we might be facing, and Faerie is said to be treacherous.”
“But how are you planning to—” He stopped abruptly, his eyes going from me to the fey, whose leg I was currently working on, and back again. “You thought you would make us weapons . . . out of their bones?”
I knew that look. It was the one Dory sometimes gave me, when I had accidentally done something unacceptable. I put the tibia back.
“No?”
“My God,” Ray said, staring at me. “I don’t believe my life. I just don’t, you know?”
I didn’t say anything. After a moment, he went back to trying to break the small control sphere, in the hopes, I supposed, that it would also destroy the shield. But even vampire strength did not seem to be up to the task.
I watched him while checking out the fey’s body through my peripheral vision. Their bones were nice and thick and very hard. They should take an edge well, instead of shattering as human bones were wont to do. I just needed to gather up a few more, lower leg bones usually worked the best, and—
Ray started shrieking.
“I’m sorry,” I said, dropping the bone again.
The shrieking did not stop.
“Ray, I was only trying to—”
I stopped talking when I noticed that he wasn’t looking at me; he was looking at something behind me. I turned and saw nothing for a moment, merely the dark green forest, with its old, old trees in the background, their twisted trunks a stark contrast to those of the saplings nearer the road. Some of the latter of which were rustling.
And then a very small creature came waddling out of the tree line.
I was immediately enchanted.
It was so tiny. It looked like Dory’s roommate, but it had miniscule wings and big, jewel-like eyes and a little baby snout, and it was so pudgy that its scale covered legs had fat rolls. They had rolls.
Its coloring was various shades of gray, with almost white scales on the fat little belly. But there was enough pink on its back and, especially, down the spine, to hint that perhaps it would be more colorful when grown up. But now it was just a tiny, roly-poly creature with bright, curious, sapphire eyes.
It was adorable.
And then I noticed that one of the trees was moving strangely behind it. Only no, that wasn’t a tree, was it? Trees didn’t have scales. That was a—
“Dragon!” Ray shrieked, right before I realized that the tree was something’s leg.
Something huge.
“Oh,” I said, and quickly got up to join him in pushing against the shield.
I thought that he had the right idea: roll us a little farther away, and make it clear that we were no threat to the child. But the shield was surprisingly heavy, or perhaps that was all of the bodies, and it had landed in a slight depression. It did not want to move.
Even worse, the tiny creature had the curiosity common to all young things, and was coming closer, probably wondering what this strange device was. The mother let out a bellow of warning that . . . was quite something. It was so loud that it was almost literally stunning, to the point that it upset my balance and had me stumbling about instead of Ray.
But the child paid no mind.
“Freaking brat!” Ray said, looking wildly over his shoulder. “Go away!”
It did not go away. In fact, our now somewhat desperate rocking was merely making it more curious. Another, even louder bellow broke the silence, which, if there was any fairness in life, would have also broken the shield, shattering it like glass in the presence of an opera star.
It did not shatter, but a moment later we were on our way, nonetheless. Not because of our combined effort, but because of the footsteps of the giant creature, which were thudding this way. They began moving the ground so much that we started moving, too.
One of the footsteps jumped us out of the depression and back onto the road, wobbling about like a giant ball. The baby laughed delightedly, and crashed into us, its little paws scrabbling at the shield’s surface, its bright eyes peering inside curiously. That didn’t add much in the way of momentum, as it couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds.
It did, however, terrify Ray.
“Get away! Get away!” he screeched, while apparently trying to take his own advice. He ran straight into the shield and then kept going, even when it began to revolve. He reminded me of a hamster on a wheel, if the hamster was a traumatized master vampire with superhuman strength and considerable motivation.
We started to roll, something made easier by the flat, trampled dirt of the road, which appeared to be well used. That would have been a considerable improvement, except that the plateau wasn’t as flat as I’d thought. It looked to be so, but was in fact slanted.
Which was why we had started rolling back toward the larger dragon.
Ray screeched again and threw himself sideways, and we left the dirt road for the verge, which was grassy and strewn with wildflowers and rocks. The latter made us judder every time we hit one and then bounce, which made it difficult to steer. Not that that mattered after a moment.
Not when we dropped off the plateau entirely and headed toward the valley below, all while being chased by the small dragon and what I assumed was its mother.
“I think it believes we’re a toy!” I yelled, as the baby rolled past us, all scrunched up in a little ball and giggling. It seemed to find this whole thing amusing. Raymond did not.
At least, I didn’t think so. He was no longer pushing as there was no need, as we were speeding down the steep mountainside. Instead, he had braced himself against the shield bubble, his newly reattached limbs splayed out, to try to keep from thumping about as the fey were doing, I supposed. But his face was almost blank.
It looked as if he might be having trouble processing his emotions right now.
I smiled at him encouragingly as I ran to stay upright, which did not appear to help. I could sympathize. I frequently felt the same, and without Dory, who I looked to for clues on how to behave, I was at a loss.
Particularly when I discovered that there was something that could crack a fey shield, after all.
The paw that came crashing down on us from above was longer and heavier than a car, and with far more force behind it. Fortunately, the shield was as slick as glass. It slammed into the dirt, but then shot out from underneath the huge foot before the web of cracks above our heads became a full-on structural failure.
“See,” I told Ray, who was staring at me with huge, blank eyes. “That was lucky, wasn’t it?”
And then the massive tail hit us.
We shot off the side of the mountain as if we had just come into contact with the biggest baseball bat in the world. I had my first look at the full-sized dragon as we tore through the air, and she was magnificent. At least the size of a five-story building, she made Dory’s friend look petite. I hadn’t realized it when we met, but Claire—the half dragon’s human name—might still be an adolescent, the equivalent of a teenager in their world.
I did not think that this one was.
She ran after us—moving gracefully in spite of her size—and then flew, taking off from the steep mountainside as easily as a human would step off a stair.
I watched in awe as she launched herself into the air, leaving an avalanche of dirt behind her. Unlike her baby, she was all shades of blue, from the acre of pale, silver-blue scales on her belly, to aquamarine on her sides, to sapphire on her back and, finally, to midnight along the heavily ridged spine. The darkest hues blended beautifully with the iridescent color of her wings, which was variously black, navy and silver when the sun hit them just right.
No, not the sun, I thought.
An alien star . . .
I felt dizzy again, and only came back to myself when someone began tugging on my clothes. I looked up and realized that Ray had found an emotion at last. Unfortunately, it appeared to be terror, because he was screaming again. And pointing
ahead to where something else was hurtling at us through the sky.
Or perhaps we were hurtling toward it, I thought, or we were both rushing at the other, which might explain the speed at which—
“We’re gonna crash!” Raymond shrieked, as whatever was in front of us tried desperately to turn.
It succeeded, although not in getting away. We hit it broadside, and at such a rate that all I saw was a massive explosion of shattering wood. I hadn’t had a clear view of the craft or whatever it was, but it must have been big judging by all the fey suddenly falling everywhere. And getting plucked out of the air by the mother dragon, who seemed to have forgotten us in the face of an easy meal.
For our part, we continued racing ahead, and then falling so quickly that we splashed down in water what felt like only seconds later. I was still looking behind us, at a wooden platform that was all that remained of whatever we’d hit. It was listing around the skies, half a dozen fey holding onto the edges and another few trying to haul them back up, while a dragon picked them off like appetizers from a canape tray.
I’ve been here an hour, I thought, blankly.
I’ve been here an hour, and look what I’ve seen.
What will I see next?
“Don’t turn around,” Ray said conversationally, sitting beside me.
He no longer appeared terrified, and in fact, seemed unusually calm.
“Why?”
“We landed in a river and we’re about to fall over a great bloody waterfall.”
I looked over my shoulder. He was right. “Faerie is . . . unpredictable,” I commented, not sure what to say under the circumstances.
“That’s one word for it,” he agreed, as the current took us.
This time, I was the one who screamed.
Chapter Eight
Dory, Cairo
I woke up—again—in a strange bed—again—although the sheets smelled of butterscotch, so I wasn’t too worried. I’d never told my lover that he reminded me of my favorite candy and couldn’t now because he was gone. Maybe off explaining to Hassani why we’d switched rooms.
And torched his rug.
And scandalized his servants.
Or, knowing Louis-Cesare, who had the aristocrat’s disdain for explaining anything, he hadn’t so much as mentioned it.
Yeah, that was absolutely what he’d do, I thought, grinning slightly and getting out of bed. I padded over to the bathroom, which was huge and luxurious. Because Hassani might have the reputation of a scholarly monk, but he didn’t live like it.
I eyed the stone pool—that was the only word for it—that took pride of place in the center of the room and easily fit two. It would probably fit ten, but we’d hadn’t had ten this past week, when we’d thoroughly enjoyed the one in our old suite. I thought that was just as well. Ten Louis-Cesares would probably kill me.
I opted for a shower this morning because it was quicker, then got out, dried off, and ran a comb through my hair. The Svarestri had almost scalped me on the left side of my bangs, so I parted the hair on the right to hide it, and decided it would do. This whole goodwill tour had required me to seriously up my game, not just wardrobe-wise but makeup-and-hair-wise as well. But today I was working, and I intended to look like it.
Fortunately, my luggage had been transferred over and placed just inside the foyer of the suite, and I’d remembered to pack some normal looking clothes. Black jeans, a matching t-shirt, and a pair of scuffed boots and I was feeling much better. Throw a leather jacket over this lot, and I might look like myself for the first time in weeks.
I smirked at a pair of four-inch pumps, and dropped the lid on them with finality.
Not today, assholes.
Not today.
I was zipping up the bag when I noticed that, while my luggage had been brought over, Louis-Cesare’s hadn’t. The set of soft brown calfskin was nowhere to be seen, not even the matching alligator toiletry bag I’d bought him for his birthday, because he used more shit on his hair than I did. I wondered if Hassani was trying to separate us after our wild night, before we corrupted the Children.
Good luck with that, I thought, and flung open the door.
And met the man himself on my way out of the suite.
He was dressed more like an Arab sheik today than an Egyptian, in snowy white robes and a black and white keffiyeh tied into a turban. In fact, he was neither nationality, being Persian by birth, although he’d studied in Egypt as a young man. But I guess that, these days, he needed to appeal to larger audience and so had expanded the wardrobe.
He bowed as elegantly as if he’d expected to be almost run over, and maybe he had. With vamp hearing, not much surprises them. Although my outfit seemed to, maybe because it wasn’t some sort of fetish wear.
I’d never trust my uncle Radu to pick out my wardrobe again.
However, it probably wouldn’t have mattered what I wore. I’d gotten the impression that Hassani viewed me less as a person and more as a kink of Louis-Cesare’s. And, from his perspective, the evidence was on his side.
Christine, my husband’s first long-term girlfriend, had been a centuries old revenant—one of the mad vampires who results when a Change doesn’t take properly. They’re considered extremely dangerous because they attack with no provocation or concern for their own well-being, like rabid dogs. They can do a boatload of damage even to older vamps as a result.
There’s a whole story there about the fact that Christine wasn’t really Louis-Cesare’s choice, that he was guilted into a relationship he didn’t want, and which had ended up saddling him with Tomas, as well. He was the first-level master Louis-Cesare had kept in thrall for so long. Another consul—Alejandro of the Latin American Senate—had gotten control of Christine, and used her to blackmail Louis-Cesare into fighting a duel against Tomas for him.
Louis-Cesare had won—surprise—but he’d felt sorry for Tomas, who hadn’t challenged for wealth or power, but out of a justified, seething hatred of Alejandro. The consul was a piece of work and Tomas wanted him dead, and was willing to risk his life to achieve it. Louis-Cesare had therefore refused to kill Tomas at the end of the duel, probably sympathizing with his point of view. And in retaliation, Alejandro had refused to release Christine.
That was a problem since revenants were to be killed on sight by senate law. But Louis-Cesare had been the one to Change Christine—another long story—and felt responsible for her affliction. He was afraid that, if he didn’t get her back, eventually someone would realize what she was and destroy her, but he also couldn’t kill the innocent Tomas. He had chosen, therefore, to keep Tomas in thrall so that he couldn’t hurt Alejandro, although it drained his power and weighed heavily on his conscience. In return, Alejandro was supposed to guard Christine.
Of course, he’d ended up letting her escape instead, and the whole, massive cluster fuck had only ended with Christine’s long overdue death at my hand. It had been in defense of others—the bitch really was dangerous as hell—but it hadn’t been in time to keep what she was a secret. Louis-Cesare had lost his senate seat as a result, which he’d only gotten back due to the war, but he’d also acquired a reputation.
I mean, I knew how it looked: one girlfriend a deadly, centuries old revenant, the next a five-hundred-year-old dhampir . . . people were bound to make the connection. Both were the kind of things that gave good little vampires nightmares, both were legal to kill on sight, and both were deadly. Add that to keeping a first-level master vamp as essentially a house pet, and Louis-Cesare started to look like he really did have a danger fetish.
It was bullshit, but things kept conspiring to add to it, because people like a salacious story. Like the vamps last night had probably reported that Louis-Cesare and his dhampir were getting busy amidst the flames of hell, or some such. When in reality, the fire had been well away from us, and was being handled by the room’s sprinkler system. We just hadn’t wanted to pause what we were doing to clean up right then.
But to people who di
dn’t know the truth, it probably sounded pretty convincing. And judging by the looks Hassani had been giving Louis-Cesare all week, he hadn’t appreciated him bringing his latest freak to court, even if she had been named a senator due to her father’s influence. I’d never met a vamp prude before, but I kind of thought I was looking at one now, and he clearly didn’t think much of me, either.
Just as well I was leaving, then.
“White would be a better choice,” he said, after a brief pause. “It reflects the sun and will keep you cooler.”
“Keep me cooler where?”
“Djeser-Djeseru, the mortuary temple of Pharaoh Hatshepsut.” I stared at him blankly. The tiniest of frowns creased the sun bronzed skin of his forehead, which even death hadn’t managed to fade. “It is on the day’s schedule?”
I finally caught a clue, although I found it hard to believe. “You’re going ahead with that?”
“Of course. Why would we not?”
“You were attacked?”
“An unfortunate interruption.” Hassani brushed it away. “My apologies for any inconvenience you were caused.”
“Inconvenience?”
“And my condolences on the loss of your . . . assistant . . . Raymond, I believe his name was?”
“Raymond was—is—my Second,” I said sharply, wondering why he hadn’t mentioned Dorina. “And we don’t know what happened to him. That’s one of the things I need to find out.”
Hassani shook his head sadly. “One no more powerful than he, and with such wounds . . . he is likely lost to us, as were many of my own people. But they will be avenged, I assure you. In the meantime, if you would care for breakfast before we leave?”
“I’m not hungry. What I want is—”
“It is a long way, even by air,” Hassani protested. “A good breakfast is essential—”
“Consul—”
“Teacher, please. I prefer it as a title.”
“As you like. But I don’t need breakfast because I’m not going anywhere. At least not into the desert.”