Salvation

by Tanith Frost

  14

  The clerk at the hotel looks half-asleep when I approach the desk.

  “Ericssen,” I tell him, and he gives the keyboard on the desk a few taps.

  He looks me over as I hand him my credit card, then nods at the sunglasses Imogen picked up for me. “You a movie star?”

  “Migraine.”

  “Oh. Right.” He moves more quickly, slipping plastic key cards into a pair of cardboard sleeves. “Enjoy your stay. Front desk is ninety-nine on your phone. Press Star to dial out. TV instructions are up there.”

  Behind me, Imogen and Odette pick up their bags. Their names are on the reservation, along with my fake identity. Taggryn’s isn’t, and we have to stop at the side door to let him and Daniel in. If anyone’s watching security cameras, they don’t bother to stop us, and a few minutes later, we’ve hauled all of their stuff save for the tent up to the bedroom.

  Taggryn nods his approval of his room, but only after he’s checked the bathroom and found a shower. I leave him to it and head next door where Imogen and Odette are settling in. Daniel stops me before I enter.

  “I’d better get back to the house and take Eric to collect those bodies before sunrise,” he says. “What do you want me to say when the others ask where you are?”

  “Tell them I had an idea about Lachlan’s plans that I wanted to look into before I talk to Miranda.”

  “Who I also need to contact,” he says, rubbing a hand over his face. “If we’re done here, we’d better see where we’re needed next.” I’m guessing that he hopes her orders involve the Inferno and a good meal before we head back out anywhere else.

  “Make time to sleep sometime, too,” I remind him.

  “Later. Call when you need a ride.”

  By the time I get into the room, the humans are mostly set up. Each has claimed a bed. There’s a litter box in the corner, and Imogen has set her plastic bag of dollar store supplies on the table next to the television.

  “You’re sure you’re sure about this?” she asks.

  “I’m sure I’m sure I’m sure,” I tell her as I take a seat and roll up my sleeve again. “Why, are you nervous?”

  Odette rises from where she was sitting on her bed and comes closer to watch as Imogen sets up her makeshift tattoo needle from items in the bag—a pencil into which she wedges a sewing needle at the eraser end, thread that she wraps around the needle and ties off before digging into her bag and removing a glass bottle of black ink that she sets on the table.

  “She shouldn’t be nervous,” Odette says. “It’s not going to last.”

  “How do you know?” I ask though I can probably guess.

  Odette sits on the end of Imogen’s bed and strokes her fingers down Rory’s back, smoothing fur that’s still standing on end even though he’s decided not to hide from me. “Viktor was eager to get whatever he could from me even before I found the rift, and he wanted to know how we’d move forward once I had access to more power. The protection I inked onto him wasn’t my best work—I was still hoping I’d be able to escape before I actually had to do any real protections for him. I didn’t need to worry, though. The marks were fading within a week, and I imagine they were gone before anyone else had a chance to see them. Your bodies really don’t like permanent changes, do they?”

  “They don’t seem to. But a week is better than nothing. We can do this again if we need to, right?”

  “Let’s get through one attempt before we make other plans,” Imogen says. “Ready when you are… wait. I forgot to get rubbing alcohol. I wonder whether the front desk has any.”

  “Infection isn’t a concern,” I remind her.

  She lets out a quick puff of breath. “Right, of course. Let’s do this, then.”

  I barely feel the needle pricks as Imogen presses the metal and ink into my skin, following the design she drew earlier. The process is slow, but she’s intently focused. Odette watches for a few minutes and points out places where she might have left gaps, then goes to watch TV. I can’t see the screen, but I could follow the story easily enough if I wanted to. Big city woman with a packed schedule is headed back to her small hometown. Bet she’s going to meet a sweetheart of a guy and learn the true meaning of Christmas.

  “Odette?” I ask.

  “Hmm?”

  I look up from Imogen’s work. “You said the marks you put on Viktor were ineffective. What about the one on his house?”

  The older enchantress pales slightly. “You found that?”

  “I did. I doubt any of the other vampires saw it. I won’t mention it to them either way. I’m just curious.”

  Not that I didn’t do a good enough job fucking myself over, but it would be nice if I could blame some of my failure on the lingering effects of Odette’s power.

  She turns back to the television. “Viktor didn’t know about that one. It was intended to protect others from the house’s inhabitant, not to protect him from anything outside.”

  I smile to myself as I watch Imogen working, the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth as she concentrates. “Guess it worked in the end.”

  Odette looks to me again. “I doubt my work had any effects in this world after I left. I had to go for surgery once, and general anesthesia was enough to nullify my symbols while I was out. They’re fine when I sleep, but I think an out-of-world vacation would have ended my influence here.” She flips the channel a few times, sighs, and goes back to the movie. “I’d like to think I played some part in screwing him over, though.”

  It’s only half an hour later, when I hear the water shut off, that I realize Taggryn has been in the shower this whole time. I’m definitely bringing this up next time he complains about his human form. Dragons probably don’t get hot showers in this world or any other.

  Imogen remains focused for an hour before taking a break to grab a bottle of water and one of the ridiculously expensive cereal bars the hotel is so conveniently offering. I want to tell her to take a longer break, but it feels imperative that we get this done tonight. If Miranda and the council decide they don’t want help from magic or humans, I could lose touch with this young enchantress very quickly.

  “At least you’re not a bleeder,” she says as she sits and tilts my arm under the light. “Makes it easy to see what I’m doing.”

  I tune out the movie and let my mind wander, imagining a world where Imogen can practice her art freely. Forget running a coffee shop. She could have a hell of a tattoo parlour if she could work out how to curse chronic diseases out of people. But then, where would we be if humans knew monsters existed and could find someone like Odette to offer them permanent protection? A world full of Helena Slades sounds like a nightmare to me.

  Secrecy is necessary on so many levels.

  “So,” I say a few hours later when it looks as if Imogen might be in danger of nodding off over her work. “Can I ask about Taggryn’s mysterious elsewhere?”

  She glances up for long enough to give me a mischievous smile. “There’s a lot I could tell you, but it could be dangerous for you to know too much. You’re safer if I just offer tantalizing hints. Maybe a few specific threats.”

  A puff of air escapes me—not quite a laugh, but close. “I guess that’s fair, isn’t it? I probably owe you an apology.”

  She goes back to work. “All’s well that ends well. And you weren’t wrong. If you’d told me too much right away, I might have been curious enough to go poking around where I shouldn’t have. Meeting Trent and Genevieve was enough for me to see that most vampires aren’t exactly the kind of people I should be hanging out with—and they were the nice ones, right?”

  “I’ve definitely met worse. I am sorry, though. Even if I couldn’t tell you more, I should have been more honest about that. You deserve more respect than I’ve given you, and if the council accepts your help, I’ll do my best to make sure you both get it from all of us.”

  I thought Odette had fallen asleep after her movie ended, but she snorts. “I’ll b’lieve th
at when I see it,” she mutters, and rolls over.

  Imogen wipes the back of one hand across her brow, leaving a smear of ink over the bridge of her nose. “That’ll have to do for the first pass. We can wait until it heals a bit before the next one. I need some sleep. Just a nap, even. I know you want it done tonight, but…” She yawns.

  “Go ahead.” I take the bandage she offers and wrap it around my arm. It won’t help much with the healing process, which should be lightning fast with injuries this small, but it will keep the ink off the hotel’s bedsheets. “I’ll see if Taggryn is still up.”

  He answers my knock, looking a little groggy and wearing a comforter wrapped around his shoulders—and, as I note when he steps away and it pulls open, nothing else.

  “Mind if I take the other bed?” I ask. I’d better nap, too. It seems Taggryn has abandoned the nocturnal schedule he adopted when he was helping me guard the rift, so he won’t be good company anyway.

  He grunts and collapses onto the bed farthest from the door, rolling himself into the blanket burrito-style.

  I step into the bathroom and call Daniel. I’d rather use the landline phone in the bedroom, but that seems rude. He answers on the third ring.

  “Any more good news?” I ask.

  “Yes, in fact. The body at the bottom of the cliff was one of Bethany’s little monsters, and we’ve got someone back in town working on making it disappear before anyone performs an autopsy. Miranda says hunts are going well all over the island. We might just contain this thing.”

  “But?” There’s definitely a but in his voice in spite of his optimistic words.

  “There was a vampire in Corner Brook. One of Tempest’s, apparently keeping an eye on things. They caught her…”

  “… But there could be more.” I sit on the edge of the tub and lean back against the wall. “They’re getting in.”

  “And even if we get rid of the zombies, we could be facing a bigger threat. At the very least, they’re spying on us. This isn’t over.” He sounds as exhausted as he looked when he left here a few hours ago. “Miranda’s sending drivers out to pick us up and take us back to the city. We’ll drive through the day, then we’re to feed and head out to meet her as soon as the sun sets. Will you be ready?”

  “I’ll make sure I am. Just let me know when to expect my ride.”

  We hang up without saying goodbye, and I wash up quickly before going back to the other room. I kick my boots off and lie back on the bed, then press my fingers to the bandage, focusing on the faint ache beneath. I try to call magic to me, just to test it, and feel nothing.

  If only all of our problems could be solved with so little trouble.

  15

  “Thank you.” The stock human pulls a white handkerchief from her pocket and presses it to the side of her throat. “I needed that.”

  I don’t answer. There’s no appropriate response, really. Me, too would be admitting weakness even if it’s true—I desperately wanted and needed blood after our eventful trip to Twillingate, and the whole team would have been in trouble if we’d gone ahead with plans to meet Miranda before we stopped to feed. You’re welcome seems to imply that we’re here to serve them. No problem makes it sound as if I’ve done her a favour.

  She doesn’t seem to mind. They know we’re not here for conversation.

  Twenty minutes ago, she was all I could think about as I watched her in the crowd, her red dress promising blood so blatantly that it seemed somehow immodest, her bright eyes shining with the life I needed so badly to take into myself. Now that our transaction is finished, her addiction fed and my needs met, I’m free to forget her if I wish.

  I look around as I leave the alcove but don’t see the rest of my team.

  It’s too quiet in here despite the extra space taken up by our security team. The stock management department is doing a good job with rationing, but it means the stock aren’t getting as much of what they need, and it shows—there were ten of them here tonight when we came in, and the ones we didn’t choose were clearly disappointed. There are few drinks to be served, few glasses to be polished, and though Ryder’s standing behind the bar, there’s no sign of his usual constant motion. He’s got his blue eyes locked on the stock, watching their every movement with predatory hunger.

  We didn’t get a chance to talk earlier—I had Daniel grab me a vial to offer my stock. When I sit on a barstool and catch his attention, Ryder turns to me with a grin of genuine pleasure.

  “What’s a condemned girl like you doing in a place like this?”

  I smile back. “Formerly condemned, thank you very much.”

  He shakes his head. “Never thought I’d see you back in here. I’m glad you made it.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I bet.”

  I motion for him to come closer. The music’s not loud in here tonight, but I still don’t want to have to talk over it. He leans on the counter on his side of the bar.

  “Did you see where everyone went?” I ask.

  “Daniel finished up first and went down to talk to Raymond, and Eric’s just gone to report to someone else. Padma wants to go home to spend the day in her own coffin, but she’s still around. Genevieve’s feeding—got herself a sweet young lady who was in for the first time. Boris is still busy, too.”

  I’d be willing to bet he didn’t get any of that information first-hand, but I trust it. Ryder notices everything that goes on in here.

  “How are things going?”

  He shrugs. “Not nearly as exciting as the reports coming back from the rest of the island. Don’t get me wrong—I’m glad it’s been quiet, but this is stressful in a different kind of way.”

  I nod. I prefer action, myself. Making decisions instead of following orders, especially when those orders are hurry up and wait.

  A cute little blonde who none of my team chose to feed from wanders past the bar. Ryder’s fingers tighten around the edge of the counter.

  “How long are they making you wait before you feed?” I ask.

  “Two more nights.” He swallows hard. “I never realized what a special kind of hell this job could be. The stock are here. They want to feed us. And here I am, just…”

  I look away, feeling guilty about seeing his naked hunger when I’ve just had the privilege of feeding. My job may be more dangerous, but there’s nothing that could tempt me to trade places with him.

  Genevieve and her stock emerge from behind a set of heavy curtains. The woman looks dazed, thrilled, drained, and enraptured all at once, and she smiles as Genevieve speaks a few words to her before ushering her to a seat at the other end of the bar.

  The old vampire doesn’t owe this human anything. Even if she took a little too much—and I know how tempting virgin blood can be—the human’s weakness isn’t her problem. Still, though she backs off an appropriate distance to talk to Padma, she casts a few quick glances back at her prey, fingers playing at the collar of her jade-green sweater.

  Eric returns, pushing aside the curtain that blocks off the corridor that leads to Miranda’s office, a few meeting rooms, and the entrance to the lower portions of the Inferno complex. It’s practically an underground city, and I’ve yet to see most of it. What I have seen—the archives guarded by a giant, vulture-like creature that hums with a supernatural energy I haven’t yet given a name to, and the darkly elegant courtroom where Viktor lost everything he was so certain he’d won—has only convinced me that I know absolutely nothing about this clan I’ve sworn loyalty to. I’m doing my part, but that’s just a small portion of the work that’s going into defending and preserving Maelstrom.

  “All’s well?” I ask Eric as Ryder busies himself reorganizing the perfectly tidy vials in the rack on the back wall. The bartender seems to disappear—just another familiar part of the Inferno’s architecture.

  Eric leans on the bar. “It’s as fine as it can be. Everyone’s making progress. I passed along your information, and teams are now looking for signs of nests or colonies as well
as individual zombies. Sightings are being dealt with… so far.” He looks better than he did before he fed but obviously won’t be comfortable until this unusual threat is dealt with.

  Poor guy. He doesn’t even know that the dragon his department had to keep quiet such a short time ago has come back.

  He seems about to say something else when the lights flicker and go out. A second later, the red emergency lights come on.

  The stock murmur and huddle together.

  “Just a power outage,” Ryder tells them. But he exchanges a look with Eric and me. He hears what we hear, what the humans can’t.

  Voices shouting somewhere far down in the hidden passages.

  Boris emerges from a curtained feeding spot. I motion for him, Padma, and Genevieve to come closer.

  “What’s—” Genevieve begins only to be cut off by the sounds of gunfire.

  This, the humans can hear. A woman screams.

  Footsteps race toward us from beyond the curtain.

  “Go!” someone yells, far down the corridor. It takes me a moment to place it as Trent’s voice. I’ve never heard him sound so angry—or so afraid. His fear echoes through me, chilling me to my core, freezing me in place. “More will be coming from the street—keep them out! Warn Miran—”

  Another gunshot, closer than the last, drowns out the end of the orders. No others follow.

  Daniel bursts through the curtain. The clean, white, long-sleeved t-shirt he changed into back at the house just a few hours ago is streaked with pale, lifeless blood. “Close it!”

  Ryder pushes down on a lever behind the bar, and a solid steel door slides across the opening in front of the curtain. It’s slow, though, and before it’s closed a massive vampire tries to squeeze through, gun in hand. He’s too big to fit, so he shoots wildly. Every vampire hits the floor, but the humans aren’t all so quick. Someone cries out, and the smell of fresh blood fills the air.

  My training takes over, and I push myself back to my feet, crouching behind the end of the bar for shelter. We’re under attack. Fear is a luxury I can’t afford.