by Tanith Frost
But there’s a defiant glint in Raymond’s black eyes now. “Aviva?” he says.
I sit up straighter.
“Whatever he wants, don’t let him have it. This isn’t over.”
Lachlan’s jaw muscles tighten. “Hold him.”
Three guards force Raymond to his knees and replace steel handcuffs with silver.
“Such brave words,” Lachlan says, and takes the knife Bethany offers him. His body blocks my view, but I see the guards struggling to hold Raymond still as Lachlan’s hands and arms do their work.
There’s no sound, though, until Lachlan steps away. Then there’s only blood dripping onto the stone floor and a soft slap as a chunk of flesh lands in front of Raymond’s knees.
Lachlan’s carved out his tongue.
Raymond hangs limp between the guards but lifts his head to watch as Lachlan returns to the throne. His chin is pink with his lifeless blood, his face tight with pain, but he still hasn’t made a sound.
“Last chance,” Lachlan tells him. “I might find use for someone as powerful and knowledgeable as you if you learn your place. Nod if you wish to accept.”
Raymond looks at me again, then at Lachlan. He opens his mouth wide, letting pooled blood pour out in a gruesome deluge, and shakes his head.
No. Never. Go fuck yourself.
If Viktor had seen this side of Raymond, he’d never have taken the risk of sending Miranda to trial.
“Private cell,” Lachlan says as the guards haul him out, streaking blood across the floor.
Five more vampires are sentenced to face oblivion before I spot another face I recognize, if only vaguely.
“What is your position here?” Lachlan asks.
The vampire glances over his shoulder as though he’s looking for someone to prompt him in his answer. “I—I guard the entrance to the archives. Uh, sir. Keep the codes.”
Lachlan slouches slightly in his seat. “How dull. Sunlight. Next.”
“Wait.” I grab onto Lachlan’s arm though it turns my stomach to do so.
I don’t give a shit one way or the other about this vampire in particular, but seeing him has brought to the surface the idea I almost had when Lachlan was asking about a power source—something Miranda might have kept locked away for her own use, or that might offer resistance and strength to the void around it.
The archives. Erimentha.
I don’t believe Lachlan is right about Miranda. She’s kept that terrifying creature locked away to guard her clan’s deepest secrets, not for the sake of her own power. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that Lachlan is desperate to find something that will give him what Miranda has.
Lachlan shoots me an irritated glare. “What?”
I can’t seem to give this up too easily. He’s greedy, but he’s also cautious and knows I can hide things from him.
In a moment, I’m Ava again, who didn’t experience the things Aviva did that night in the archives. But she’s heard things. Of course she has.
“What would it be worth to you if I remembered something that might help you?” I ask. “I think I can tell you what you want to know. But in return, I want them spared. All of them.”
He chuckles, and it sends chills up my spine. “You’re in no position to bargain.” He grabs me by my arm, painfully tight, and ushers me out of the room through the door Miranda was led in through at her trial.
Behind us, someone orders that the prisoners be taken back to… the voice fades. I don’t know where they’re going.
This isn’t what I want. But there’s a solid plan forming in my mind—one I don’t dare think on too directly if I want to keep Lachlan from becoming suspicious.
If it works, it will give me a chance to finish him for good.
If not, I could be handing Maelstrom’s enemy exactly what he needs to finish us all.
18
The little room doesn’t have much to offer in the way of interest or comfort. Pale stone walls, a hard bench where a prisoner can sit to await her night in court. Lachlan throws me to the floor.
“Talk. Unless you’d like to make this private interrogation a public execution.”
I force myself to my feet, facing him, Bethany, and the pair of armed guards who followed us in here.
“Not until you agree to spare the others. They’re useful. All of them. Miranda wouldn’t—”
Lachlan’s knee meets my stomach, driving my words out of reach. His hand wrapped around the back of my neck keeps me from collapsing.
“You have nothing,” he whispers into my ear, and it’s all I can do not to give him the satisfaction of trying to pull away. “You are nothing. Not in my territory. And as of tonight, that includes this city. This island. I am your high elder. Your king. Now tell me what I want to know.”
I don’t answer right away, and the back of Lachlan’s hand meets my cheek, sharpening the dull ache that’s already settled in there from earlier. When I still don’t answer, Bethany comes closer and presses her knife against my scalp over my left ear. The razor-sharp blade parts my flesh, carving upward. I flinch, but Lachlan grabs me by the arms and pins me against him, one arm across my chest, the other holding my hair so I can’t move my head. The blade continues its path over my skull. I let the pain come instead of fighting it, but I don’t let it consume me.
And then I feel the blade slip under my skin, separating flesh from bone, sliding toward my forehead.
She’s going to peel my fucking face off.
Enough.
“There is a source of power here,” I gasp. “A creature whose power is vast and deep. I don’t know what she really is or where she came from, and I’ll tell you again that I don’t know anything about Miranda using her as a source of anything. As far as I know, she’s just a large bird with a supernatural energy I’ve never felt anywhere else. But if you insist on looking for something, there you go.”
Lachlan motions for Bethany to stop carving into me. “And where will we find this creature?”
“The archives.” My entire body is shaking, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Maybe this is good, though. Let him think he’s broken me.
“I’ll retrieve the code-keeper,” Bethany says, wiping her blade clean on the leg of her pants before stalking back out the door.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Lachlan asks as he drops me to the floor. I’m not even registering the pain from the gunshot wound in my side now that my scalp feels as if it’s on fire. Blood oozes slowly over my skin, chilled by the air.
A moment later, Bethany is back with the vampire who watches the door to the archives. I still don’t feel any regret about what Genevieve and I did to him not so long ago—her seducing him, distracting him, and mining his thoughts for the codes; Hannabelle and I using them to break into the room he was supposed to be guarding—but I do pity him. He’s trying to appear brave, standing with his shoulders straight and his chin up, but he’s holding his fists clamped tight against his thighs in an attempt to keep them from shaking, and his formerly bloodless skin has gone downright ashen.
“You’re a useful fellow, aren’t you?” Lachlan asks.
“I—I do my best.”
“Good. And you pay attention, don’t you? You saw what happens to those who aren’t useful to me.”
“I saw, yeah.”
Lachlan nods back over his shoulder at me. “Aviva here has told me that you’re the vampire I need to speak to if I want access to the archives.”
My thoughts are as close to a prayer as any I’ve had in a long time. Let him see my plan. Let him understand that if we send Lachlan in there, Erimentha will—
“We can’t go in there, though,” he says. “They’re protected.”
A sudden, irrational urge to laugh overtakes me. Of course he’s a stupid son of a bitch. I should have remembered.
Lachlan turns to me, one eyebrow arched. “Protected, you say? Aviva mentioned a creature of vast and deep power, but not the danger.”
The co
de-keeper’s eyes widen.
Bingo. Lightbulb moment. Shame it didn’t come ten seconds ago. He looks at me again, closely this time, taking in the bruises, the bloodstained clothes, my hunched form tossed to the floor.
“The bird,” he says, speaking like a man in a trance, his voice flat and hollow as he looks on what awaits him if he doesn’t cooperate. “She’s massive. Vicious. They keep the archives in darkness. Any light wakes her, and she attacks.”
Bethany paces behind him and rests a hand on his shoulder. He winces at the gentle touch. “And how did Miranda get in?”
“There’s someone who can control the bird.” He closes his eyes—I think he’s ashamed. “I don’t know her name. She’s hard to miss, though. Old. Crooked. Broken.”
I feel as if I’ve taken another knee to the stomach. Penelope. Of course. Gideon told me she rarely left the Agonite compound, not that she never did. At the time, I wondered why she was granted such privilege—why Miranda would keep her in the clan and allow stock to be sent out to her, why she was rescued and rehabilitated after the tortures that left her in her current unenviable position—but I didn’t have a chance to think about it at the time.
“Of course.” Lachlan sounds genuinely delighted. “I did wonder why Miranda was so intent on getting such a pathetic creature back, but if she would otherwise have been cut off from her private power source… Bethany, bring our old friend in. I think it’s time for a reunion.”
My skin crawls. He has to be wrong about Miranda. She was never able to prove she was right about other powers. She wouldn’t…
But she suspected. My throat tightens with panic that I struggle not to let show on my face, but Bethany shoots me a smirk that shows how pleased she is with my stumble.
I don’t know what happens now. Lachlan’s aware of the danger. He’s not going to walk into the archives unprotected, and my chance at using Erimentha against him is gone. My only hope is that Penelope won’t help him, and at least he won’t be able to acclimate himself to that unique source of power.
When Bethany returns, she’s accompanied by a guard who pushes Penelope in front of him handcuffed in silver as I was earlier. It doesn’t burn her flesh as it did mine, but it weakens her. She stumbles, and the guard grabs her to keep her from colliding with Lachlan.
They obviously know what she is. A vampire like her can draw on pain and turn it into strength and power, and one look at her bent, broken body makes me suspect that she has an ample supply to draw on any time she turns her attention to it. The silver will keep her from accessing the power but will leave her the pain.
She looks up, meets Lachlan’s eyes, and immediately takes a step back, only to collide with the guard.
“Penelope,” Lachlan says. Her lip curls, showing a prosthetic fang, and he responds with a cold grin. “You remember the consequences of lying to me, don’t you?”
“’Ard te ferget,” she mutters—the only way she ever speaks. Her voice trembles now, though.
“Then we’ll get on with this. Tell me, why did Miranda want so badly to have you returned to Maelstrom even in your current condition?”
“Wesn’t jest me.”
“No, but you were particularly difficult to get out, weren’t you? They should have left you behind. She wanted you, specifically, didn’t she?” He leans in closer. “Is it because you speak to monsters?”
Penelope lifts her chin defiantly. “Whadda ye mean?”
“I require access to the archives,” he says, more patiently than I’d have expected. He clearly hasn’t hesitated to hurt her in the past, and I suspect he’d find it amusing to do so again. But for now, he’s seen that he might be able to use her. I know from experience what a difference that makes with him. “I’ve heard that you may know a thing or two about the creature that guards them. Is that true?”
Penelope glances at me, but Bethany steps between us, cutting off any chance of non-verbal communication.
“True enough,” she says, her raspy voice drawing the words out slowly. “I c’n calm her, see. Sing to her. Get her out of th’ room fer a bit if you wants in.”
“Is that all Miranda ever wanted?” Lachlan asks. “To have her locked away to access the archives?” When Penelope doesn’t answer, he paces a few steps away. “This can go one of two ways. If you confirm my suspicions and agree to help me, I’ll see you’re treated well. Perhaps we’ll spare your companion as well if you require him to care for you. Or, if you lie or refuse to help…”
I still can’t see Penelope’s face, but I catch the slump of her shoulders. “I dunno the whys of it, but M’randa always insists on comin’ in with me when I sings Erimentha down. No one else with us. An’ we’ll stay for a while, me singin’, her jes… bein’, I guess. Standin’ there with the lamp on, watchin’ the bird. I dunno why. Then I puts Erimentha away, and whoever else can come in.”
Bethany leans forward, rising slightly on her toes. “Anything else? Does Miranda have contact with the creature?”
“Nah. But… she do collect feathers if they’ve fallen.”
My heart feels like a stone in my chest. I was so certain that Lachlan was wrong, that there was no secret source of power that Miranda was hiding. I thought his delusions and greed would lead him in there and that would be the end of him.
My mind goes numb save for one repeating thought: I’ve handed him exactly what he wanted.
And I thought I was being so fucking clever.
“That’s it, then,” Bethany says, the excitement clear in her voice. “Miranda strengthens herself through exposure to this power, letting the void in her battle against it.”
“And keeps it locked away so she alone benefits,” Lachlan adds.
And, I add to myself, she takes an Agonite in with her—one of the few vampires who might not experience the benefits in the same way, having as little void power as she does when not amped up on her pain.
Lachlan looks at me, considering something. “Could I have what Aviva has, given access to this power? If werewolf blood isn’t doing it—”
The room and my thoughts snap back into clear focus. “If what?”
He just stares at me, and my thoughts swirl beneath the pain that muddles everything. Werewolves. Blood and fire.
“Lachlan,” I whisper, “what have you done?”
He looks to Bethany, and it’s as though I’ve been forgotten. “Perhaps this greater power source would serve me better.”
“I’m going to want a front-row seat if you try to feed from Erimentha,” I mutter.
Bethany turns her keen eyes on me. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? It’s an idea, Lachlan, but it’s not something you should experiment with until we know more about her situation.” She nudges me with the toe of her boot. “There’s more to her power than she’s told us. Some factor beyond feeding on their blood that we haven’t explored.”
“Obviously,” Lachlan says, and the irritation in his voice sends a shudder through me. “But I think she’s already given us what we need.”
Bethany smiles. “You may be correct.”
Before I can ask what he means, he hauls me to my feet again and strong-arms me out the other door. “Lead the way, Penelope.”
Vampire wounds don’t bleed as they would on a human body, but blood is trickling into my eyes, stinging them as Lachlan pushes me along.
There has to be a way I can still make this work. I just have to think.
Fine. Okay. Maybe Miranda has been benefitting from this exposure even if she hasn’t understood the mechanism, and maybe Lachlan will be able to do the same. But she’s been here, exposed to opposing energies, for more than a century. She’s built up resistance. It will take time for Lachlan to get there. He’s not going to get a sudden burst of strength that will change everything.
In fact… I think back to the fight on the floor of the Inferno, the way enemies fell like puppets cut free of their strings, weaker than vampires should be. I thought Lachlan hadn’t sent his best, but maybe
I was wrong. They fell before me when I unleashed my fire—a power unfamiliar to them. It didn’t cause them pain as it did Bethany, but what if it not only strengthens us, but weakens them?
Their void power isn’t like ours. It feels strong, pure. Hard. But maybe it’s brittle, too. Unyielding because it’s never had to bend.
I wonder.
Five of Tempest’s vampire guards meet us at the door to the archives. Lachlan jerks me to a stop and turns back to the code-keeper. “The numbers. Tell me. Only me.” He leans in, and the vampire speaks the numbers so quietly I can’t hear. “Very good. You’ll enter with us.”
His eyes widen. “I can’t.”
“S’arright, youngster,” Penelope says, and pats him on the arm. “My lady will be no trouble.”
“Indeed she won’t.” Lachlan looks us over—Bethany, Penelope, buddy what’s-his-fuck over here, and me. “In. All of you. You’ll be my insurance policy—the easiest targets if Penelope here is lying or decides to turn on me.”
“Fine,” I say, and step toward the door, letting myself move more eagerly than comes naturally to me—as though I want this.
“Wait,” Bethany says, and it’s all I can do not to smile. Score one for reverse psychology. “Lachlan, Ava has been exposed to this energy before. She recognizes powers. She’s accustomed to drawing strength from them. Look at the fire in her eyes—she’s doing it right now.”
“No.” I look back at them, and for the first time, I lie openly to Lachlan. “I’m certain you’re wrong about what Miranda’s doing here. You’re wasting your time. I just want to get this over with.”
“Bullshit.” Lachlan snaps his fingers, and a guard approaches. “Bring this one in, but don’t let her get too close to the creature.” He gives me a dangerous smile. “I don’t know whether you’re trying to get close to that power or trying to be left outside, so you get neither.” He brushes my hair out of my face and tucks it behind one ear. I bare my teeth at him, and he smiles. When he pulls his hand away, his fingers are pink with my blood. “What I do know is how I’m looking forward to peeling back every layer of deception until I get the whole truth from you no matter how long it takes.”