by M. A. Grant
“No. Grigore vouched for me and I’ve kept my head down. Gave the Council some other avenues to distract them. But it’s a matter of time.”
He was right. Grigore could try to protect Emil as much as he wanted, but the Council would have their way. And the moment Theo found any memory that linked Emil to Cristian, he’d chase after all leads. Even if the Council didn’t come for them, the Wharrams would.
“Is that why you’re hiding out here?” Cristian asked Emil.
Emil shifted in the seat, his jacket scraping against the seat back. “Ileana received word that Radu might be in the area.”
“He isn’t. I’ve been looking for him all night.”
Emil sighed in relief. Cristian dropped his hand from the door handle and eyed the back of his head. He wished he could read the secrets in the man’s brain.
“Is his continued absence a good thing?” Cristian asked carefully.
“No...and yes. It means Grigore hasn’t found him. Radu is powerful and smart, but Grigore is a violent fool with grand designs. He wants the voivode’s territory and will not stop until it is his. He acts prematurely, without thought to the cost of his actions. I fear Radu is already a victim of Grigore’s efforts to unseat Mihai.”
Cristian’s gut pitched. “We have to find him.”
“Agreed.” Emil glanced out the window to his van. “I must return to Grigore’s side before he grows suspicious. I can return tomorrow night. We can share our information, figure out how to find Radu and protect him. Some of the Council members are more amenable to facts than others. If we find Radu, we could plead our case with them.”
He sat forward, turning to look at Cristian for the first time. For a split second, Cristian caught a sharp hint of an acrid scent that reminded him of vinegar, but it was gone too quickly to tie to any kind of emotion.
“Do not return to Grigore’s county,” Emil warned. “Stay here. I’ll text you coordinates of where we can meet. I’ll make sure the Council and their watchdogs don’t follow me. Bring your partner with you. He may have insight too.”
Cristian doubted Atlas would want to have anything to do with this, but he nodded anyway. “Good luck.”
“I won’t disappoint you,” Emil said. He slid out of the car and hurried across the street. After one final look around, he got into the van.
Cristian waited while Emil pulled away, driving out of the small town and back to the lion’s den that awaited him. Once the van’s taillights vanished deep into the night, he made his way back to the driver’s seat, where he started the car for his own journey back to Atlas and the questions he knew would come from this newest development.
Chapter Thirteen
By the time he got back to Daria’s farm, dawn was nearly upon them and Atlas was in no shape to have a difficult conversation. He was drawn and haggard, flinching against the lights Cristian turned on, which warned of an imminent migraine. He greeted Cristian, but quickly ducked his head and went back to flipping between aged papers and the road atlas. Cristian retreated to the kitchen, where he snapped at Daria until she admitted that Atlas had been working nonstop since they’d returned home.
Despite his own exhaustion, Cristian bullied Atlas away from the map long enough to eat, take medication for his migraine, and crawl into the shower. Atlas truly felt like shit, since he obeyed and didn’t draw away from Cristian’s tentative touches. He did want to know what had happened during Cristian’s explorations. As they laid out their bedding, Cristian promised they were closer than they thought to uncovering the truth of the strigoi and finding Radu. To avoid further questions—and a potential argument—he asked what Atlas had learned.
He never expected Atlas to declare, “Daria’s afraid if she leaves, the strigoi will follow her.”
“We haven’t seen any signs of that,” Cristian assured him, laying down the last blanket.
“We haven’t?” Atlas’s misery dripped from every word and Cristian looked up. Atlas was turned away from him, staring into the fire. “They followed me to Scarsdale.”
“Atlas,” Cristian whispered. And, because words weren’t good enough, he stepped over the sleeping bag and wrapped his arms around Atlas’s waist. He froze, afraid Atlas would push him away. He didn’t though, and Cristian dared to hug him a little tighter, and rest his cheek against Atlas’s shoulder blade.
“They didn’t follow you,” he said. “Something else is going on. Something big enough even the Council took notice. One man couldn’t do that. This is not your fault.”
“You can’t prove that,” Atlas whispered. “You can’t prove they aren’t following me. Or her. We need to find their nest and destroy it.”
“We’ll find it,” Cristian promised. “But you need to sleep. You need to take care of yourself, or you’ll never be able to help anyone. Daria or yourself, included.”
Atlas grunted, but didn’t argue when Cristian urged him into bed. “Thank you,” Atlas mumbled as Cristian crawled in beside him.
“For what?”
“For taking care of me. For letting me share the weight.”
He smiled past the pain of his heart breaking and ran a hand through Atlas’s shower-damp hair. “Thank you for trusting me to help you,” he told him. “Whatever comes, we face it together, okay?”
Atlas nodded and his relief—the brightness of sun-warmed grass—overwhelmed Cristian’s senses. “Can we finish talking about it later, after we’ve slept?”
“Oh,” Cristian teased, giving Atlas an easy out, “now you’re feeling tired? Come on then. Sleep first, save the world later.”
He knew it was a brief respite only, a moment to try to gather strength before flinging themselves further into the abyss, but that didn’t make it any less important. Atlas reached out and curled his hand over Cristian’s, and they drifted off together.
Cristian woke up a few hours later when Daria wandered outside to do her morning chores and reached for his jacket. The phone was still in the pocket, so it was easy to check for the time. Still early, considering their busy night. There were no new messages from Emil. Hopefully when he woke up again, he’d have something to share with Atlas. He slipped back into sleep easily enough. The next time he woke, he was alone.
A spoon clinked against a coffee cup in the kitchen, and someone sipped at the beverage before swearing softly. Cristian smiled at Atlas’s frustration and got dressed. When he went into the kitchen, Atlas handed over a mug.
“It’s still hot,” he grumbled. “Couldn’t figure out how to cool it without ruining the flavor.”
“It’s fine,” Cristian assured him.
Atlas nodded and avoided his eyes. What could have been a sweet moment transformed. The gesture now hung bloated and overripe between them, an obvious attempt to broker peace before things went badly.
“Daria had to go into town. Said she wouldn’t be back until late, so we’re on our own for a bit.”
“I see.”
“I figured we could catch her up on everything later. So...what did you find out yesterday?” Atlas asked.
“Very little,” he admitted, and returned to the living room. The road atlas lay open on the desk, so covered in notes it was nearly illegible. Cristian propped his hip against the desk and leaned down for a closer look. He ignored the areas x-ed out and focused on the four circled sections of forest. One crossed the border between Romania and Ukraine. Another was surprisingly far south, and had the note Migration? next to it. The other two looked more promising. Both were to the east of the village, up in the mountains.
Atlas followed him, looking thoughtful. “But not nothing?”
“Why these two places?” he asked, deliberately changing the subject.
Atlas frowned, but came to his side to examine the map. “That one is in an area the locals regularly hunt in. Daria said there are tons of roads and paths through it, which strigoi could
use to travel. But I couldn’t find a secure place for their nest that would be safe from daylight. There are caves throughout the mountains, but Daria couldn’t think of one in that immediate area.”
“And this one?” Cristian asked, pointing at the other.
“An old logging camp,” Atlas explained. “Decommissioned a while ago, I guess. They tried to use it as a tourist destination, but it didn’t last long, especially with the lack of phone signal there. No way of posting pictures or videos of yourself visiting. There are still buildings that could provide cover. The company came out and locked up most of it, but didn’t bother ripping up the railroad tracks or blocking the roads to and from it.”
“Railroad?” Cristian asked, leaning closer. He shifted the map and spotted the papers Atlas had been examining the previous night. A series of aged maps, some of them probably antiques, had been used for cross-reference. “Atlas, where did you find these?”
“A man we talked to loaned them to us,” Atlas said. “He was one of the logging company’s engineers.”
“You’ve been combining his maps with yours. That’s ingenious.”
Atlas shrugged and fiddled with his pencil. “It’s just another possibility,” he demurred. “It makes sense that if they can travel by road, they might also be traveling over unused tracks too. Daria and I are going to go out tomorrow during the day to check it out. She had some work to do around here today and wanted to let us catch up on our sleep.”
“I’m feeling better for it, but are you? How’s your migraine?”
“Fine.” Atlas reached out and pulled Cristian’s mug from his hand, setting it down on the table with his own. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you trying to avoid my question. You found out something yesterday. Was it about Radu?”
“Yes, and no,” Cristian admitted.
“Is that all I get?” Atlas asked dryly, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Radu might have come this way. But before I could nail down exactly where he’d last been seen, I ran into someone unexpected.”
“Who?” Atlas growled.
“Emil.”
“What the fuck was he doing around here?”
Cristian decided he’d had enough of hanging his hands at his side and mimicked Atlas. The moment he crossed his arms, he felt a little better. Safer, more protected. “That’s exactly what I asked him,” Cristian said. “He didn’t give me much of an answer.”
“Well, since the Council’s team hasn’t shown up here, and we aren’t facing down a bunch of angry vampires, I’m guessing Emil didn’t turn us in. So, what did he say?”
“That Theo Wharram is hunting for us, specifically. That Grigore was dangerous and that Radu wouldn’t be safe from Grigore if we found him. He wants to help, but doesn’t want to lead anyone to us. He’s going to text me where we can meet tonight to share what we’ve found out.”
The only other time Cristian had seen such a thunderous look on Atlas’s face was when Bryony Wharram had tried to convince him to go with her at Desolation House. Atlas’s voice dropped on the command of “No.”
“Emil could help us break everything open,” Cristian argued.
“It’s too convenient.”
“I realize that. But it might also be our only chance to get the information we need to protect Mihai and his family. To find out how Grigore is controlling the strigoi—”
Atlas shook his head, still furious. “Grigore is too busy sucking donors dry to be the one controlling the strigoi. Have you ever considered that Emil might be the one pulling the strings?”
“Mihai trusts him—”
“Mihai is under Council investigation. He didn’t know what Grigore was doing in his territory. Is there a chance he’s wrong about Emil?”
“He couldn’t be,” Cristian insisted, his frustration growing as Atlas closed down tighter and tighter. “Mihai and his family are the only reason my parents were able to escape, to get married, to bring me into this world. They have protected my family to the Council, at great risk to themselves. He wouldn’t misjudge a man he’s worked with for centuries.”
“You’re sure?” Atlas asked coolly. “Sure enough you would risk your own safety to prove it? Knowing that if you’re wrong, and Emil is involved, your father will face the same outcome Mihai does now because you can’t bring him the proof he needs to clear his name?”
Cristian glowered at him. “Don’t you dare twist this. There are times in life we have to trust others, Atlas.”
“Trusting others can get you killed, Mr. Slava,” Atlas said, and the use of his formal title burned through Cristian’s blood. “You have to choose wisely, and not everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt.”
“Yet some of us give it to you anyway,” Cristian snapped.
“What are you talking about?”
“You chose your sister over my family before. We hired you back anyway. By your logic, I can’t trust you’ve changed. I would have to assume that if Theo Wharram finds us here, you intend to hand me over to secure her Bea’s safety, since you missed your opportunity with my aunt.”
Atlas paled and his arms fell away in his shock.
Cristian wished he could take his cruel words back. The accusation was unfair. He’d never broached the subject before, never asked for Atlas’s reasoning. He’d foolishly waited for Atlas to explain on his own time. Cristian hoped Atlas’s explanation would clarify what he’d already pieced together from Andrei’s warnings and his own observations. But Atlas remained silent, and the jumble of memories from the feeding were all Cristian had to confirm his suspicions.
Suspicions he shouldn’t have voiced like this. Since Andrei’s death, there had never been a question of Atlas’s loyalty to him or his family.
But it was too late to say any of that.
The man he’d grown to love was gone. All that remained was a cold, impersonal copy assessing him for any potential weakness. “It was a mistake to work for the Wharrams,” Atlas told him calmly. “I wanted to tell you—”
“And you tried,” Cristian said. “But a failed feeding does not a confession make.”
At last, a tiny crack in Atlas’s icy demeanor. “Failed?”
Cristian gave an irritated wave of his hand, hoping his faked nonchalance would cover long enough for him to rebuild those shattered walls. “Feeding without a true bond is little more than sipping water while starving. It only prolongs the inevitable. And don’t try to change the subject. You say trusting others is too great a risk to take, that I have to be careful who I choose to put before myself. But how many people do you choose to save over and over again, regardless of what it costs you? Beatrice, me, Daria, the people of this village. Hell, in the middle of the attack on my home, you tried to stop to help Helias fight off strigoi. Where were your tough choices then, Mr. Kinkaid?”
“It’s different,” Atlas started, his scent warping and twisting between his fear and irritation.
The combination made Cristian’s stomach roil, so he shook his head and headed to his bag, where he picked up his jacket and dragged it on. “No, it’s not, Mr. Kinkaid. It never has been. And until you realize that, this partnership will never work.” He adjusted his sleeves and held Atlas’s gaze. “I will wait as long as you want me to. I love you, and I’m not walking away for good. But I need some space to think.”
He knew it was the right choice when Atlas didn’t follow him outside. As much as it hurt, it was better in the long run. It meant Atlas had listened to him. Atlas was thoughtful, and there was a chance they could still work this entire clusterfuck out when Cristian came back in a few hours.
He sighed and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. They were full, carrying the keys and phone he hadn’t put away the previous night. Then he remembered Emil. He tensed when he saw a single message waiting for him with the promised coordinates. He glanced back to the house, but did
n’t see or hear Atlas moving around inside. It wouldn’t help to wander back in seconds after saying he needed space, announce he was going to meet Emil, and invite Atlas to come along. That would lead to a fight he doubted they’d recover from.
Still, the car key in his other pocket felt like a leaden weight.
He doubted his meeting would take long. He could go and return, hopefully to a calmer, more reasonable partner. Yeah, that could work.
He was still rooting around in their car for a scrap of paper he could write a note on when someone drove up to the house. Daria’s truck pulled up beside him and idled for a moment before shutting off. He expected her to nod at him and wander inside, politely avoiding him like she had been. He wasn’t prepared when she came over to watch his futile efforts.
“What are you doing?” she asked, confused by his search under seats for a napkin or a receipt.
“Need to leave a note for Atlas,” he grunted.
“Why?”
“I’ve got an errand to run and don’t want him worrying that I’ve slipped off forever.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why can’t you tell him yourself?”
“We fought.”
He figured Daria would be happy about that. She’d made no secret of her dislike for him, and she clearly didn’t trust his relationship with Atlas, especially now that she knew how deep it ran. Had run. Whatever. But when he glanced up, expecting to see glee, he was surprised to see concern instead.
“Let me guess,” Daria said. “He was being self-sacrificing and didn’t like when you called him on it.”
“Good guess,” Cristian agreed. “How did you know?”
“Because I act the same way he does...only I don’t have someone like you to keep me in check.” She looked toward the house and frowned. “Did you want him to come with you on this errand?”
“Yes,” he said truthfully, “but he won’t want to come. I won’t force him to do something he doesn’t want to.”
She nodded, a sharp, decisive movement. “I’ll give him your message. If he wants to go after you, he can take my truck. I just filled it with petrol. Hopefully he’ll only be a few minutes behind. Where are you going?”