Salvation

by Tanith Frost

  All I have to do now is survive to see it through, and having this team of outcasts together again is making me believe we might be able to pull off one more victory. I just need to keep my eyes open and use every resource available.

  I pull Genevieve aside as the others speak to Daniel, asking questions about his time away—Trent from a strategic standpoint, Hannabelle with the quiet tact that seems bred into her bones, and Edwin with enthusiasm that might almost excuse his lack of good manners.

  “How’s Imogen?” I ask as though it matters far less to me than it actually does. I need to focus on getting rid of weaknesses that might make me stumble, and now that my hunger has been sated, magic tops that list. “Has she been back to the rift?”

  Genevieve presses her lips together and leans in closer. “I didn’t want to be the one to tell you. She’s gone, my dear.”

  Icy fingers seem to close around my throat. “Gone?”

  “We haven’t seen her since just after you left. No sign of her at home, or her cat for that matter… I even took a cab to her restaurant and asked the woman working there, and they haven’t seen her. I thought you might know where she went.”

  “No.” I think back to the last time I spoke to her. I was so focused on escaping from the vampires who were pursuing me here and making my way to Tempest to rescue Daniel that I didn’t really have any kind of conversation with her at all.

  But there was one thing.

  “She asked about Taggryn,” I say, and suddenly feel the need to sit down. “You don’t think—”

  Genevieve shrugs. “You know her better than I do.”

  “She went through the rift. She must have.” I rest my elbows on the bar. She was so curious about what lay on the other side but stayed to follow through on her promise to help Miranda. Now that that’s over, knowing how dangerous it was for Taggryn to go back to his own world, and feeling as if she’d reached the end of what she could teach herself about magic…

  I sigh. “Of course she did. Even if she couldn’t find Taggryn, she’d want to search for her aunt.”

  Genevieve climbs onto the stool beside me. “Think she’ll come back?”

  “I don’t know. There wasn’t much to tie her here if she found something better elsewhere. All she ever wanted was answers about what she is and what her magic means, and I didn’t do nearly as much to help her as I should have.”

  “You were somewhat distracted, darling.”

  “I know. But she deserved better especially after she stayed to help Miranda.” I rest my head in my hands. “If that’s where she’s gone, she walked into another world with no idea of what to expect.”

  Genevieve pats me on the shoulder. “Not no idea. She knew there were man-eating dragons.”

  The glare I shoot at her is lost behind the curtain of my hair. “Very comforting, thank you.”

  That’s two-thirds of what we jokingly named Team Good Guy missing—the bloodthirsty vampire remains, but the terrible dragon and the girl who could only work magic through curses are gone. I can’t imagine either of them would have worked well alongside vampires, but it still feels like a loss.

  A very personal one, too. If I had any lingering concerns that I’d lost myself to the monster within me, my fretting over my allies’ well-being is setting it to rest.

  Fuck it. My friends’ well-being.

  We head back toward the others, and I check to make sure my fire is well hidden beneath the void that now flows so strongly through me. Edwin turns to me, ready with a question, when light enters through the doorway at the back of the room. Everyone falls silent as Miranda steps in.

  Maelstrom’s high elder looks as she did the first night I met her—strong, graceful, and impossibly youthful until I look into the midnight blue eyes that reflect centuries of experience in their depths. She glides across the floor, the white skirt of her high-necked dress floating around her legs. She seems to be the embodiment of everything I should aspire to be: regal, dignified, a model of self-control that disguises the dark, violent truth of the monster within. She either can’t or doesn’t hide the void in her, though. And if the power that animates and sustains us isn’t as pure and unchallenged here as it is in Tempest’s lands, Miranda is proof that it’s certainly as strong. She feels more like a force of nature than one of its creatures.

  “Daniel,” she says. “Aviva, welcome back. Did you feed well?”

  No enthusiastic embraces from our high elder, of course, but I’m glad to be acknowledged. Clark could take a page from her book.

  “We did,” I tell her. “What’s next?”

  She casts a weary glance back toward the hallway that leads to the passages that run deep under the city. “Now we return to the council meeting. You tell us everything you know, and we figure out what we’re going to do about it. We’ve already got emergency measures in place—stock rationing, clan members brushing up on combat skills even if they’ve neglected their training in recent years, bringing the heads of every department together so we can work in concert as we face our enemy. But that’s not a strategy, and we need all the help we can get there.” She looks expectantly not only at Trent, but at Hannabelle, Genevieve, and Edwin, as well. “What do you say?”

  I’m stunned into silence for a moment. I had been preparing to jump in and argue for their inclusion, as Daniel and I had to fight so hard for their preservation. But then, that was when Miranda was weak and Viktor was stealing power.

  “I hardly think we’re prepared,” Genevieve says. “We’ve been locked away in disgrace, haven’t we?”

  Miranda raises her chin and looks down at her, demanding obedience. “My feelings may have differed from Viktor’s regarding our willingness to support non-active clan members, but make no mistake—I didn’t preserve any of you out of the goodness of my heart. Each of you has experience dating back to the formation of the clan system, and each of you brings knowledge we may not find elsewhere. We have fed you, protected you. It’s time for you to repay Maelstrom in whatever way you can.”

  “As if we haven’t already.” Genevieve doesn’t look away from Miranda’s stern gaze. “Our return to involvement in clan matters cost Lucille everything. What will it demand of us this time?”

  “No more than it will demand of any other member of Maelstrom. You can’t hide forever.”

  Genevieve sniffs and fluffs out her auburn hair. “Very well. I suppose we’re here, anyway.”

  I look to the others, but they seem willing to follow Genevieve’s lead. Edwin’s always eager for action, and since she discovered the depth of her power and the nature of her gifts, Hannabelle has wanted nothing more than to find her place in vampire society.

  Miranda turns and leads the way, followed by Daniel, Edwin, Hannabelle, and me. Trent and Genevieve bring up the rear, speaking quietly.

  We descend a flight of stairs as though we’re going toward the archives, but then Miranda opens a door to our left that leads not to a room but to another passageway. We descend again and pass a massive wooden doorway I’m only familiar with because I was dragged in and out through it during Miranda’s trial.

  We’re passing through structures that vampires somehow built without making the humans in the city aware of their actions—not as beautiful or captivating as Tempest’s underground fortress, perhaps, but impressive nonetheless. We maintained our secrecy despite construction, despite preserving the existence of werewolves, despite the threats presented by bold and daring rogues. Miranda may have lost some of her support within the clan in the recent past thanks to Viktor’s schemes and lies, but she’s a competent leader. And even if the size of her elder council has been halved in the years since I came on the scene, she still has the wisdom of many experienced vampires at her disposal.

  Lachlan is bringing the fight to us. Home turf. And he has no idea that we’re aware of his plans.

  I’ve talked myself into feeling something like confidence in the clan’s future when Miranda opens a wooden door on our right, reveal
ing a dozen vampires, all shouting at each other, some pounding on tables, others looking ready to brawl.

  My confidence shatters.

  We have no chance of winning the fight outside our walls if we’re at war within them.

  6

  The room falls silent as we enter. I think at first it’s out of respect for Miranda. Then I realize that all eyes are on me.

  Traitor. Escaped prisoner. Pardoned, but not excused.

  Most of these vampires will never know the whole truth. They don’t know what Viktor was doing at the rift because revealing that might mean exposing the truth of how Miranda regained her strength. And though her temporary use of magic might be more excusable to most than my tainted power is—which they’re all familiar with now, thanks to Viktor—it would undermine her in their eyes beyond any other failing they’ve accused her of in the past.

  We are vampires. We are solitary creatures by nature, strong enough to stand on our own, gods of darkness, the stuff of nightmares. We do not need assistance from outside our own ranks, and even to require it from within leaves a bad taste in our mouths.

  For many of us, at least. Some seem to be learning other ways.

  Crawley’s certainly not among them. The head of the Inter-Clan Diplomacy department—I should have remembered he’d be here and known to be on my guard. I can’t blame myself for hoping Miranda might shut him out, though. He wasn’t in on all of Viktor’s plans, but he was a strong supporter. Judging by the look he’s giving me, as though I’m a rat he just watched crawl out of a sewer, the evidence against Viktor hasn’t changed his mind on anything.

  “She’s back,” he says, the expression on his face not changing. “How convenient that she should return so soon after evidence turned up which—”

  “Enough,” Miranda says, sounding as tired as she does irritated. “Dredging up matters that are officially closed will only take our attention off more important, present issues. Everyone be seated. Let’s make sure we have all the information before we proceed.”

  They comply, seating themselves around a massive, rectangular table made of wood so dark it’s nearly black. There are more vampires here than I expected. But then, I’ve never had all the information. An organization as shadowy as a vampire clan has plenty of secrets to keep, and as a new member, I wasn’t offered access to all of them. Everything I know about Maelstrom has been gleaned on a need-to-know basis, and things like our full history and the actual size and structure of the clan and its inner workings weren’t necessary information when I was training to hunt rogues.

  And then things went to shit, and I learned just how hard it was for someone on the edges of vampire society to gain access to anything.

  There’s hope for me there, though. I scan the faces around the table and find a few who are more familiar—and friendlier. Jia and Xavier have both been invited to the council, a move that would have been unthinkable to Miranda or anyone else just a few weeks ago. These vampires are Agonites, members of a small group who have learned to use pain to access greater power than the modest gifts the void bestowed them with at death. Most vampires with greater natural power see them as freaks or cheats, albeit useful ones in battle when painful injuries only make an Agonite stronger and faster.

  Up to a point, at least. As Daniel said, we all have our breaking points.

  Jia leads the Agonites who belong to Maelstrom, offering them a place to come together to train, to teach their ways to new initiates—training that takes decades, according to Edwin—and to simply exist without having to worry about others finding out what they are and judging them for it. Xavier is sort of her right-hand man, I guess, and keeps the Agonites’ private library. Both vampires are strong and clever. I’m glad to see them here even if it took a little demonic intervention in the form of stern words to our clan’s leadership to make it happen.

  What I wouldn’t give for a little of that intervention right now. But Gideon made it clear that he wouldn’t respond if I called him again. He’s free and has probably forgotten all about us lesser beings by now.

  Jia offers me a tight smile that gives little away, but it’s clear that she’s pleased to see me. Beside her, Xavier leans away from the table, letting his long dreadlocks spill over the back of his chair. His brown eyes are warmer, but he can’t hide the tension in the intimidating body that houses such a scholarly mind.

  Daniel heads straight for a chair beside a red-headed vampire who’s looking at him as if he’s some kind of miracle. It’s mixed with an expression I recognize from having seen it on his face so many times when I’ve proven myself. She leans in and whispers something to him as he sits. His jaw muscles flex tight, and he shakes his head.

  His boss. Of course. Daniel’s high up in the Criminal and Supernatural Threat Management department, but he’s not in charge. He’ll no doubt face a lot of questions about what happened to the others in Tempest. What he saw. How they were caught, how they conducted themselves. For now, though, she rests a pale hand on his forearm, just for a second, and whispers something else that makes him relax.

  I take the empty seat next to him. It places me beside Chester, my former boss at the Department of Unnatural Resources. He leans away, just slightly, but offers a wary smile that shows a hint of teeth. He reminds me of a nervous dog.

  No warm welcome back for me, and that’s fair enough. What’s surprising is how glad I am to see him. The fact that he testified against me at Miranda’s trial, leading to calls for my execution as proof of her strength and loyalty to the clan, feels like water under the bridge now. He did what he had to. I get it. I give him a solemn nod, which he returns with what I think is respect.

  Yeah. He may be a dusty old paper-pusher, but I’m glad he’s still around.

  Daniel rises. “My team entered Tempest’s territory on November fifth, seeking the remaining members of Helena Slade’s so-called Blood Defenders…”

  I listen as he sketches out vague details of what happened during his time in Tempest, then moves on to the more important business of our suspicions about Lachlan’s plans. I’m familiar with all of it and glad when he skips the gorier details. A flood of questions follows. I nod my agreement as seems appropriate, but no one’s paying much attention to me save for surprised or disbelieving glances.

  I keep my ears on that discussion, but most of my attention soon shifts to the rest of the council’s members. I know Raymond, the only other surviving elder of Maelstrom, and of course Clark, who’s hovering like a protective shadow over Miranda’s shoulder. I don’t know anyone else.

  As Miranda goes over what they have in place so far, I pick up on a few of the departments represented here—stock management, medical, human relations, the tech vampires who are responsible for Hannabelle’s miraculous prosthetic leg. Maelstrom is a small clan in both territory and population, but it strikes me as I watch and listen to these vampires—the keen questions, the rapid-fire suggestions—that we truly are gifted with extraordinary members. Not because we’ve only valued the strongest among us, but because we’ve made use of everyone’s talents even outside of pure void power and gifts.

  “So here we are,” Miranda says. “We know where the threats should turn up and have some idea of what to expect from them. Eoin, how are things progressing?”

  The redhead beside Daniel flips back a page in the notebook on the table in front of her. “I made a few calls during our recess. Virginia is organizing our remaining members to form teams, which will be filled out by members of other departments.”

  Remaining members. Daniel doesn’t react to this acknowledgement of the department’s loss, but a few vampires around the table glance curiously at him. It’s all I can do not to leap across the table and smash their faces into it.

  “They’ll be led by experienced members of the C.S.T.M.”—she says this like it’s a word, see-ESS-tee-em—“to spread out relevant knowledge and talent. We’ll also have members of the D.U.R. on each crew to study the threat and gather information t
hat might make things easier moving forward. Stock management will have a contact on each team so we can coordinate meals as necessary if we’re out for long enough that the need arises. Otherwise…”—she flips the page on her notes—“everyone else is looking good. This is a sharp pivot from our previous plan to defend our assets against a more direct attack, but the fact that everyone has been brushing up on combat training for the past few weeks means it’s just a question of reorganization and deployment.”

  I lean forward to get another look at Eoin. She’s not a particularly imposing vampire—no taller than me, slight build, with a quiet demeanour that doesn’t demand respect like so many of us do. Yet everyone is looking at her with exactly that—respect. She obviously knows her shit, this one. I’m a little in awe. Daniel called Miranda with the news that we’d need to fight zombies on multiple fronts less than an hour ago.

  “When will we be ready to deploy the teams?” Miranda asks.

  Eoin purses her lips and consults her notes again. “We’re getting into daylight hours now, but if we get everyone down here within the hour, feed them up, and keep them well away from the sun so we can keep them a bit more alert while we go over plans… I don’t see why we can’t be on the road this evening. Earlier, if we can use human drivers.”

  “Very good.” Miranda turns to Raymond. “And what of the other side of our plans? The home front?”

  Raymond taps the tips of his fingers together, sending light glinting off his ornate gold rings. “Little has changed from our initial plans. Strict rationing will be in place for any vampires not involved in the hunt. Any humans working directly with us in any capacity are now housed here, underground, prepared to feed us in case of a stock-depletion emergency.” He has no notes to consult, but rattles the items off his mental list without hesitation. “The hospital is empty. Offices and other worksites will be shut down for the time being, and we’ll consolidate our numbers here as a defensive measure.”