by Tanith Frost
“I… well, thank you,” she says. I don’t think he’s manipulating her—he’s not going to risk eye contact or the chance that he could accidentally break her fragile human mind. Still, she seems far more relaxed than she did a few seconds ago. “If you could maybe just roll the suitcases in, I’ll wrangle the kids.”
I grab hold of the largest suitcase, which has a big tote bag secured to the pull-handle by its straps, and Daniel picks up a pair of carry-on bags. The two oldest kids pull their own wheeled suitcases through the slush of the parking lot, both decorated with images of cartoon characters I don’t recognize, while the mom carries the car seat, a diaper bag, and a backpack. The kids cluster around their mother like chicks taking shelter under a hen when a hawk’s shadow passes overhead, but not one family member seems to have consciously noticed anything strange about us.
Almost none. The baby is fussing, but maybe she’s just hungry. Either way, it’s nice to have the additional distraction.
Daniel walks beside the mom, who doesn’t seem to notice when I fall behind.
Okay. Tote bag, looks like a mom purse to me. I pull the suitcase up beside me and open the top of the bag, scanning its contents, and pluck out the smartphone that’s tucked neatly into a side pocket. Not my first choice of tool, but beggars can’t be choosers at this point. I press the button at the bottom, and the screen’s irritating glare stings my eyes. Four-digit passcode.
I glance up. Daniel’s laughing at something the mom said.
Her wallet’s not hard to find, though digging through it one-handed to find her driver’s licence is a challenge. I just have time to memorize her birthdate before we get to the curb and have everything sorted away before Daniel leaves to get a cart someone left outside.
The mom seems startled when she notices me standing behind her. “Thank you,” she says.
“I hope you’ll have help on the other end.”
“Oh, yes. My husband had to go home early. I was just telling your, um… friend. Sorry, I didn’t catch your names.”
“I’m Katy,” I tell her, borrowing the fake identity Maelstrom put on my credit card and driver’s licence. “This is my…” I pause. A lie should come easily, but with my stomach still in knots and my thoughts racing thanks to magic’s influence, I can’t help considering what I should call Daniel. Boyfriend seems insulting to a man who’s been dead for more than eighty years. Partner is entirely accurate, especially given our recent teamwork, but it lacks so much nuance. And what would he call me? We haven’t talked about it. What am I to him now?
The woman is staring at me, waiting.
“My… William,” I say, and give myself a mental kick in the ass even as I congratulate myself for remembering his fake identity. “We’re glad to help.”
Daniel smiles at her from beneath the shadows of his hood as he lifts the big suitcase onto the cart. Her cheeks flush slightly, and the scent of her blood becomes apparent even beneath the ginger-scented body spray she’s wearing.
Lady, I think, you have no idea.
We take our leave and head back out into the parking lot.
“Well?” Daniel asks.
I pull the phone out of my pocket. “I didn’t have much time to look for clues to her passcode. If it’s not her birthday, we’re out of luck.” I try 3107 with no luck, then remember that her licence was issued in Michigan. 0731 it is, then. The screen lights up, showing a picture of a happy family. I wince at the glare and the weird energy that surrounds such devices—not the kind that I perceive, but one that’s universally irritating to vampires to the point where we hire humans to do most of our computer work for us.
“You want me to make the call?” Daniel asks.
The anxiety weighs my stomach down again as if I’ve swallowed a cannonball. “Go ahead. You’re the one who knows the numbers and locations from the shipping list. And if you could ask for more details about… you know. I’d feel better.”
“Sure.” He walks across the parking lot as he dials, and I head the other way, circling the building to check on our ride. They’re still not unloading the plane, and they seem to be done fuelling up.
The plane rolls forward.
“Well, shit,” I mutter, and watch as it continues forward to wait for takeoff.
Guess that makes one decision for us, anyway.
“Yes,” Daniel says into the phone as I approach. “No, not that I’m aware of. Marked for larger towns, but I don’t know whether that’s where they’re to be released or… exactly.”
“They’re gone,” I say, and he nods.
“She says they’ve left,” he says into the phone. “Doesn’t seem like they unloaded any here. We’ll want to have teams in place in all of those areas as soon as possible. I—good, we’ll discuss it then.” He hangs up and walks back toward the terminal.
“Well?”
He seems to know I’m not waiting for Miranda’s response to the news of an imminent zombie attack. “It seems evidence turned up confirming Elizabeth’s involvement in Viktor’s plan, so your story about her attacking you holds up,” he says. “Her diary or something. You’re totally clear on that count.”
“And everything else?”
Daniel checks to make sure no one is looking, then tosses the phone to the curb outside the departures door. Beyond the window, the mom is already clawing frantically through her bag and her pockets. She’ll find it soon enough.
“Miranda said that with that charge dropped and Viktor’s plotting with Tempest accepted as truth, no one could object to her offering you a full pardon. You’re safe to return to the Inferno, and she’d like both of us to sit in on tonight’s council meeting. Sounds like they’ve been working all night, and we’ve just thrown another complication at them. I’d say it will be well past sunrise before anything’s decided.”
Good. This is good. My mind is still insisting that it’s a trap, though.
Fucking magic. I close my eyes and think back to what Gideon taught me, what I figured out for myself. I was able to draw magic to me even when I barely felt it, to use it to keep me alert during daylight hours when I should have been in desperate need of a nap. It’s a connection like that of humans to light; if I can draw it to me, I should be able to deny it.
I focus on the magic, calling it, almost daring it to come closer. The panic worsens as the electric purple energy enters me. For a few seconds, I’m no longer aware of the parking lot, the airport, or Daniel.
For a few seconds, I fear I might lose myself in madness.
Then, as though this were the inhale, I breathe the magic out of myself, forcing it away, reining in my attention and placing it elsewhere as I open my eyes. The ground beneath my feet. Daniel’s worried expression. The void, as strong here as in Tempest, but lacking the ice-cold purity it had there. The bare hint of fire, my assurance that the werewolves haven’t all left us.
Better. Much better, in fact. Almost as it was in my trailer at the rift—present, but not overwhelming.
Inhale. Exhale. I just have to keep my guard up and hope that there’s a more permanent answer to my problem out there somewhere.
“I’m fine,” I say, wishing I didn’t have to assure Daniel of this fact quite so often. “It’s getting better.”
He’s watching me carefully. Thinking about something. Then he seems to let it go. “How much will we tell them about our time in Tempest?”
“Just what’s relevant. They don’t need to know anything too personal.”
“Agreed.” His shoulders relax. I hadn’t realized how important the question was to him.
I scowl at him. “I won’t tell them anything that happened between us if that’s what you’re worried about.” Is that why he’s been pulling away when I try to touch him? Because he’s ashamed of this?
He looks as if I slapped him—just for a second—before he trains his features back into their neutral, hard mask. “There are worse secrets we might wish to keep.”
I don’t have the blood pressure nec
essary to blush, but my shame warms me slightly. Not for my own secrets from my time in Tempest—though there are plenty, including my relationship with Lachlan—but for jumping to the conclusion that his reluctance was about me.
Daniel had to fight a team member who’d been tortured, weakened, and driven mad. He destroyed other vampires in the ring. And he and Bethany… well, maybe some of our secrets aren’t so different.
“Sorry,” I say, and he relaxes again.
“It’s not—” he begins, then shakes his head.
We watch the thin stream of cars coming into the parking lot, the humans entering and leaving the airport. It’s all so mundane. Sure, they all have their stresses and issues, but I can’t help envying them their ignorance of what we’re dealing with.
I shove my hands deeper into my pockets and kick a hard lump of ice, sending it skittering.
“What?” Daniel asks.
“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t really think we’d get a vacation as soon as we got back, but I sort of hoped—”
“That we’d get to hand things over to the grown-ups and let them handle it?” There’s a hint of a smile in his voice.
“Kind of, yeah.”
He chuckles under his breath. “I hate to break it to you, Aviva, but we’re counted among the grown-ups. Much as I’d like to pass on all of the information we gathered and then sleep for a month, they need us. It sounds like Miranda has brought the leaders of every department in the clan together, so everyone is working on this, but you, in particular, bring something to the table that no one else there will.”
“Sure I do. It’s the thing that almost got me executed not too long ago. Why should I not assume things will go better this time, right?” I tug at the sleeves of my coat just to release some of my lingering nervous energy.
It’s the magic, blowing everything out of proportion. But that doesn’t mean the thoughts it’s clinging to are wrong. I am an outsider here, now more than ever, pardon or no pardon. I’d be foolish to think Miranda’s council will welcome me with open arms.
Daniel stops and places his hands on my arms so I’ll turn to face him. “The thing that almost got you executed is the same thing that kept Lachlan from having an easy win through Viktor, and it’s what got me back here in one piece. I understand that you don’t agree with Miranda’s methods of using you. I know I’d hate to be left adrift without orders and then cast aside when she needed a scapegoat.” The hard edge in his voice surprises me. Until a short while ago, when he had to make himself believe he hated his old clan, I’d never heard him speak with anything but respect for our high elder. I guess things have changed even if he’s back on her side now. “But you have to admit she’s got good reason to want to make use of you again. And I have no doubt that you’ll make them see what I see in you.”
As I look up into his eyes, I get some clear ideas about how we could make use of each other again, but the moment is interrupted as bright headlights wash over us and a black car pulls to a stop.
For the briefest moment, Daniel looked relieved.
The passenger-side window rolls down, revealing a familiar, scarred face. Clark’s body or the clan’s doctors are doing fine work at healing him, but the skin of his left cheek is still shiny, carved into shallow waves by flames he faced defending Miranda from a burning building and the humans who were attacking us.
Either he was already in the area when Daniel let Miranda know we were here, or he drove up from the club at twice the speed limit.
Daniel takes shotgun, as is appropriate given our relative ages and positions in the clan. I consider running, hiding, ensuring my safety until Daniel checks things out. But he’s right—the things that make me an outsider in this clan are what made me valuable even if most of the vampires here don’t recognize that fact. They need me, maybe more than I need them at this point. And if my presence at this meeting means that Lachlan might get what he deserves, I’m not going to walk away from my chance at serving it to him.
“Good to have you back,” Clark says, but it’s clear he’s only speaking to Daniel.
Old Clarkie and I have had our differences, most notably over my use of magic to restore Miranda’s failing health and power after an attack on the Inferno. My methods worked when nothing else did, but I guess Clark hasn’t forgiven me for subjecting his mistress to that shame when he thought she’d rather die than rely on outside powers.
Or maybe it’s not that at all. Maybe it’s an indication of exactly the kind of reception I should expect elsewhere. After all, a pardon isn’t the same as absolution, and I left behind a lot of vampires who would happily have executed me themselves for the danger they believed I represented.
“It’s good to be back,” Daniel says, definitely speaking only for himself.
Clark snorts derisively. “You might find yourself eating those words soon. You’re walking into a messy situation, the worst I’ve seen since the clan’s inception.” When Daniel doesn’t answer, he adds, “Miranda has arranged for you to feed before you join the meeting.”
At least that’s pleasant news. I wish I felt as good about anything else that might greet me at the end of this drive.
5
On the surface, little has changed at the Inferno. The shitty little hole-in-the-wall bar upstairs looked the same as ever when we walked in an hour ago—dim, vaguely dirty, not at all inviting to any living humans who might be tempted to stop in for a drink. There was no one behind the bar up there, of course. We’re well into the early morning hours now. The real club, the one we immediately descended to, was also quiet, showing no signs of the turmoil I suspect awaits when I leave the cozy alcove where I’ve just finished my meal. Miranda brought in good stock for us, and I leave mine resting peacefully in his venom-induced bliss.
It’s only now that my desire for blood is sated that I think to wonder about the safety of the human Daniel fed on.
He’s tasted death for the first time since he last visited the Inferno, and he was hungrier than I was when we walked in here.
Daniel’s already finished when I step onto the dance floor, looking brighter and closer to life than I’ve seen him since our escape. “All’s well?” he asks.
“Quite well. And you?”
He shoots me a rueful smile and looks away. “He’s alive if that’s what you’re asking.”
“It’s not easy, is it?”
He shrugs, suddenly more awkward than I’m used to seeing him. “There were no recovery programs in Tempest to help us suppress our desire to kill, but they had other ways of teaching me restraint if I forgot myself. I suspect my age makes it easier for me.”
Not awkward, then. Ashamed. He understands what I’ve felt during every club feeding since I was first forced to go rogue—the knowledge that this way may be better, especially for our stock, but that we could have and be so much more if we weren’t held back by vampire-made laws. What’s bad for the clan and the species could be so damned good for us as individuals.
“It’s okay, you know,” I tell him. “To want it. To know it would be good. The fact that you can trust yourself at all is—”
I don’t get a chance to finish that thought. The curtain at the entrance to the club is thrown aside, and four familiar vampires enter, one of them racing straight at us. Strong arms wrap around me, and I’m almost thrown off my feet at the force of the impact.
I wiggle around to free my arms and return the embrace. “Good to see you too, Edwin.”
He pulls back and holds me at arm’s length, giving me a fine view of the ridiculous Christmas sweater he’s wearing—Santa Claus appears to be drunk, passed out on a snowy rooftop with an empty eggnog cup in his hand. Tiny lights dot the night sky behind him, and his nose is lit up pink.
I’m used to Edwin’s unusual style of dress, but this is impressive even for him—as is the fact that he’s actually wearing it at an appropriate time of year.
“Feeling festive?” I ask.
“Damn right. I’m just
about willing to chalk your return up to a Christmas miracle.” He turns to Daniel. “And you. We thought you were a goner for sure.”
Genevieve pushes him aside. “Darlings. Welcome home.” She plants a kiss on each of my cheeks, leaving me with a faint hint of her floral perfume, then motions for Daniel to lean in closer so she can do the same to him. Before she lets him go, she whispers something that makes him smile.
Hannabelle’s dark eyes are shining as she watches the reunion. “I can’t believe it,” she whispers.
“So you said,” rumbles the ancient vampire behind her. Trent steps into the dim light cast by the shaded lamp overhead, revealing his silver-streaked hair and the eyepatch he’s worn since our battle with the Blood Defenders. He turns to me. “I never should have told these three you were back. They insisted on coming down to see with their own eyes.”
Trent’s always hard to read, but though he sounds exasperated, I don’t miss the twinkle in his eye. He looks to Daniel. “Finally decided to join us, youngster? You’ve been missing all the excitement.”
Daniel mostly manages to hold back his smile. “So I’ve heard. Glad to see it wasn’t the end of you, old man.”
Trent snorts. “Takes a lot more than a little plot to overthrow the clan to finish an old dog like me.”
Hannabelle glares coolly at him. “As if you can take credit for your survival. You owe Aviva just as much for that as this youngster likely does for his safe return.”
Trent grunts and looks away. “Guess we’ll never know.”
Warmth spreads through me, accompanied by a sense of well-being that builds on the good feelings I took from my meal. During my time in Tempest, I couldn’t allow myself to think of this—to miss my allies who were beginning to feel so much like a strange family, to remember the better aspects of my existence in Maelstrom. As Ava, I had to hate all of it, letting my resentments rise to the surface so Lachlan wouldn’t detect a lie when I said I wanted everything he was offering me. I didn’t realize at the time how true it would all become, how thoroughly monstrous I could be. I embraced what his clan had to offer—the taste of death on my lips, the pleasure of human pain, power over those weaker than me, pure void, a chance to be recognized as a queen. I was only able to walk away from the temptation because the cost was too high for the rest of the world. It was a hard decision, but right now I’m glad I chose the greater good.