He and I were going to have a serious talk about his behavior once we got out of here.
Bette accepted the baggie and carried it to where she kept the tools of her trade.
While she began her tests, I turned my back on her to give Linus and me privacy. He must have read the curiosity on my face. He leaned down until our cheeks touched, and his lips brushed my ear.
“She was my tenth-grade teacher.”
That would explain her knee-jerk threat to call his mom, and her panic when I didn’t flinch away from the suggestion. Linus wasn’t a kid. Tattling on him would only get her in trouble for wasting the Grande Dame’s time.
“She taught at the fancy necromancer school you attended?”
High Society kids attended their own school that focused on the necromantic arts while Low Society kids tended to stick to the public school system. A traditional education was more useful to them since the special school focused on magic they didn’t possess.
Maud hadn’t seen the point in sending me there either. She told me the best I could hope for was an assistant position. Hearing you couldn’t hack it from one of the brightest necromantic minds of our time? Yeah. It hurt. A lot. Even knowing her reasons, I still twinge to recall how she told me I was no practitioner.
“She was fired after incriminating photos were found on her computer.”
“Ugh.” I fought to keep my hands from curling into fists. “I don’t need details. Seriously.”
“She opened shop a few months later and used her affinity for metallurgy to earn a living.”
“I figured you must shop here a lot to get that kind of welcome.”
“Uh, no. I avoid her unless a local case demands her expertise.”
“How did Lethe end up here?”
“She wanted the best, and Bette is the best in Savannah.”
“Why did Bette teach at all if she’s so great with metal? The pay must be higher in the private sector. Pretty much everyone earns more than teachers, except cops.” A greasy knot coiled in my gut when I understood. “Kids.”
The incriminating photos must have been of kids, and teaching granted her easy access to them.
And to think Linus had attended that school, had endured that vile woman’s attention for an entire year.
Childhood scars marked us as adults, and a former authority figure who had abused their power could reduce even a potentate to a teen boy without a voice.
“So…” l leaned into him. “How do you feel about letting Linus Jr. attend gwyllgi school instead?”
“I think Grier Jr. would enjoy that. Very much.”
What neither of us said, but both of us were thinking, was we had no idea how my magic and his would affect any children we did have. I would like to know before we started procreating all willy-nilly. I had helped Lethe, and Eva, without asking those questions, and we still had no answers for her parents or her.
“The gold is real. Eighteen karat, like the stamp says.” Bette licked her lips when she glanced over at us, over at him, and I got the distinct impression she wasn’t seeing him so much as remembering him. As he had been. In high school. I had never wanted to punch an old lady in the face before, but I was willing to start with her. “The diamonds are flawless on the GIA scale. Three point four karats in weight.”
“That’s a used car when she turns sixteen.” I caught his eye. “Or money for college.”
Before Linus could whip out his standard fee, I pulled a dollar from my pocket and traded it for the ring.
With the transaction complete, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
At least Lethe would understand why I had to buy us new friendship donut pendants and why I would let our new jeweler melt the old ones for scrap…that I still wouldn’t allow to be used for our new designs.
“You didn’t compensate her much.” He returned his wallet to his pocket. “She won’t forget that or forgive it.”
“She touched you without your permission, and I won’t forget that or forgive it.”
Or her past sins against Linus and other former students, whose High Society upbringing numbed them to a level of abuse that still held the power to shock me.
Bette might walk the straight and narrow these days, but if she slipped, I would be there to catch her.
A tiny smile played on his lips. “My hero.”
“Don’t you forget it.” I linked our fingers and led him back to Moby. “We need to get a bead on Volkov.”
“I have people working on it,” he assured me. “There’s something else we ought to do before returning home.”
“Visit Esteban?” I could smell his stall from here. “Churros make excellent get well soon gifts, and Lethe is still recovering.”
“The cleaners confiscated my tux pants.”
In all the bronze powder excitement, I had totally forgotten about the interrupted fitting.
“Even if we filed the paperwork to get them out of evidence, they would still be contaminated.” Ugh, ugh, ugh. “With so many gwyllgi guests, you’re right. We can’t risk it.”
“Javier has my records. I can walk in, place the order, and meet you at Esteban’s.”
I did my best to ignore the siren song of cinnamon and sugar, but I failed. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
“All right.” I walked backward for a few steps. “See you in a few.”
Hands shoved into his pockets, he turned and began the short walk to the tailor.
Stomach rumbling at the promise of chocolate dipping sauce, I wove through the early-afternoon foot traffic on my way to see my old friend.
Five
Linus allowed Grier a head start, a small one, before he pulled out his phone and dialed Javier.
“This is Linus Lawson. I would like to place a rushed order for a duplicate of the tuxedo for my wedding. No, I had no issue with your work. It was superb as always. There was an incident, completely my fault, and the pants were ruined. I’m aware you prefer to work with matching lot numbers to keep the fabrics identical, so I’ll pay whatever you think is fair to have it delivered in, say, two days? Thank you.”
With his business handled, Linus found a quiet spot and embraced his darker half until he became a swirl of midnight that blended with the surrounding night. The cold in him intensified, but he was used to the ache in his bones, like shards of ice slicing through marrow. Thus camouflaged, he began shadowing Grier.
The howl of wraiths who made up his tattered cloak rang in his ears, a constant white noise that droned endlessly. Drawing on their power, he honed his senses until he could have been walking alongside Grier, her sunshine smile enough to warm him from across the howling abyss. The gentle sway of her hips sent a growl up the back of his throat, but he cut it short when heads turned in search of its source.
She was more than beautiful, more than gifted, more than intelligent. She was vital.
To him, she was…everything.
Unable to help himself, he drifted too close and caught her soft laughter with his heightened senses.
“You’re stalking me,” she murmured. “Is it wrong to admit I kind of like it?”
A flicker of surprise caught Linus unawares, but then he smiled. “You knew I intended to shadow you.”
“Please.” She snorted as she stepped up to the curb then checked both ways before crossing. She was holding her phone and had plugged an earpiece in on the right side to explain away their conversation. “The guy who trained me was very thorough.” A husky note entered her voice. “Very thorough.”
Heat punched through the layers of cold, and his gut snapped taut. “You’re punishing me.”
“Pretty much.” She sank an extra swish into her hips, and he trailed after her like a lovesick puppy. “Using your fiancée as bait? Really? You know I would have volunteered. Now I’m all disappointed and stuff.”
A tendril of real fear wormed its way into his mind. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re trying,” s
he amended for him. “You’re used to working alone, calling all the shots. This is different. This isn’t you grooming me for a role or preparing me to ace my tests, this is new. This is you and me, working together. Partners. Equals.” A knowing smile he wanted to taste quirked up one side of her mouth. “You’ll get the hang of it. Sir Bonks-A-Lot will make sure of that.”
Her ready forgiveness untangled the knot in his stomach, the impulse to reach out and run his fingers through her hair a visceral need that forced him to make a fist.
He didn’t deserve her. Her patience for him was boundless. He was a quick study, but he had so much to learn when it came to being a good partner, a good husband. At least this much, he could do for her. Hunting was where he excelled.
“Go on ahead,” he told her. “I’ll keep watch.”
This form didn’t render him invisible, which would have been a useful trick in their line of work, but it did make him hard to differentiate from other shadows.
“Don’t take any unnecessary risks,” she warned him. “I would hate for you to leave me no choice but to kick your butt for getting hurt this close to The Big Day.”
“I’ll do my best.” As far as promises went, it was an easy one to make. “Be careful.”
“I will be.”
He crossed the street with her then hung back while she kept strolling the cobbled incline down to River Street. Nose lifted to breathe in the scents of cinnamon and sugar, she headed toward the row of tents where Esteban set up shop most nights. Linus let her get far enough ahead his pulse kicked with eagerness to close the gap, but he quelled the instinct to coddle her and surveyed their surroundings.
One slip, she would forgive him. Two in the same night would get him…bonked.
Vampires were less common on the street now than before the Siege, and they walked in pairs for safety. For that reason, the tall male threading the crowd as he pretended to examine a tent near Esteban’s, this one filled with local art, stood out. Even from this distance, Linus sensed the direction of his focus on Grier.
Wrapping the night tighter around him, Linus began a leisurely stroll toward the vampire.
Ahead, Grier laughed with Esteban, who had stopped working to catch up with her.
The vampire observed them through the strings of a windchime while Linus looked on.
Tensions still ran high in Savannah between the necromantic and vampiric factions. He wasn’t about to make a move on the vampire until he confirmed he was an agent of Volkov’s. So he pretended interest in a display of local jams and honeys in the event this vampire was more observant than most.
“Are you in position?” The vampire appeared to speak to no one. He must be wearing an earpiece similar to what Grier was sporting. “She’ll be headed your way in five.”
The check-in gave Linus time to consider his options before the vampires made their move.
When Volkov abducted Grier, he stole her from Woolworth House. Until Linus designed a tattoo for her that granted immunity from vampiric compulsion, she kept holed up at home, afraid to venture out. Her purchase of a vehicle too big to fit the older streets in downtown Savannah told him she hadn’t finished healing yet. Still, Moby gave her control, gave her room to breathe. She fought through her fears, and he respected her for it. Too much to allow Volkov another shot at fracturing the bold spirit not even Atramentous had broken.
With a final chuckle, Grier accepted bags filled with churros and dipping sauces from Esteban then set out for the area where she had parked. Her pace was slow, and she performed an elaborate juggling act when she reached Moby to buy the vampire she must have also spotted time to catch up with her.
Once she unlocked the SUV, she gently arranged the food. Tires squealed as the vampire from the market made a grab for her, but she danced aside. He fell forward, and she slammed the door on his head and neck until he howled and covered his head with his arms.
A second vampire leapt from an idling van and rushed to his friend, but Linus intercepted him. He went in low, hit the vampire in the gut with his shoulder, and flipped him using one of Grier’s favorite tactics. The vampire hit the pavement on his back with a sharp grunt, and Linus drew on a sigil that paralyzed the attacker from the neck down.
“Who sent you?” He crouched beside the vampire and started going through his pockets. “Who is your master?”
“I’ll kill you for this,” he spat as his senses recovered. “You can’t stop what’s coming.”
“What, exactly, is coming?” Linus confiscated the vampire’s wallet and thumbed through its contents. He located a driver’s license and credit cards issued to the same, likely fake, name. “Mr. Orlay.”
Fangs bared, he hissed, “Savannah belongs to—”
Grier kicked him hard enough for his eyes to roll back in his head.
“I get tired of hearing all the Savannah belongs to the vampires rhetoric.” She nudged him with the toe of her shoe. “The Siege has ended. Get a life.”
“He’s on his second.” Linus dusted his hands. “It doesn’t appear he’s done anything productive with this one either.”
“True.” She straightened her ponytail. “Let’s get these losers in Moby.”
Linus had to admit, the SUV’s bulk came in handy when they were forced to haul bodies.
Working together, they lowered the back two rows of leather seats, each heavily embroidered with sigils. Once they shut the rear door, everything past the front row of seats got sealed in a magical cage. With the prep work done, they loaded the vampires, locked them in, then drove to the Lyceum.
“I’ll call Boaz.” She sent the text, and minutes later sentinels arrived to escort their bound guests down to the Lyceum. She let the sentinels past the wards by unlocking the doors. “Are we going too?”
The lingering stare she bestowed on her cooling churros wasn’t lost on him. “Boaz can question them.”
“Are you sure?” She threw Moby in drive but kept her foot on the brake. “I can reheat them when I get home.”
“I’m sure.”
With an adorable pout, she always swore they never tasted the same the second time around.
“Okay, I’ll let him know.” She sent the text and merged into traffic. “Let’s go home.”
* * *
Grier beat him into the house by a mile, the phone already at her ear as she taunted Lethe with goodies. He almost reminded Grier of her excuse for buying the extras, but had the churros truly been meant as a get-well present instead of a guilt-free snack, it was too late. Half of them had vanished into her cheeks as she stuffed her share where Lethe couldn’t get them.
Lethe arrived within minutes, panting and wild-eyed until she spotted the churros awaiting her.
Sadly, that was also when she noticed Grier hoarding the caramel dip and licking it off her finger.
Excusing himself, not that either of them heard him over the ruckus, he exited Woolly through the rear door and approached the carriage house. The official story was that he had been living there since their engagement, but these days only its office was in use, as he was a fulltime resident of Woolworth House.
The office was small but perfect for his needs, helped by the large monitor he had mounted on the wall across from his desk to make video conferencing easier on his team in Atlanta when he was out of town. Certain Bishop would be around, he sat on the edge of his desk and dialed his former command center.
“We got good news, and we got bad news.” Bishop took a long draw from the steaming mug in his hand that left his upper lip smudged red until he licked it clean. “Which do you want first?”
“The bad news.”
“Your hunch was right on the money, as usual. Volkov was released thanks to a stack of forged amnesty papers. I checked them myself. No way they’re authentic.” He reached over his shoulder and patted himself on the back. “They were good, but I’m better.”
“No argument here.” That was what made replacing him so difficult. “Do you have a bead on him yet?”
“There are a couple of bounty hunters searching for him, but he’s fallen off the face of the Earth.”
With his money and resources, he could be secreted away in Savannah without them knowing. Or, if he worried about proximity to the Lyceum and the Grande Dame, he might be orchestrating this from afar.
“I forwarded a copy of the forgeries and everything else I have so far to your mother.”
With the wedding close, and Volkov potentially closer, she would dispatch sentinels to begin sweeping the city for him. The more he was hunted, the less threat he posed Grier. “What about the card?”
“No known reference in our database, meaning it’s not Volkov’s handwriting.”
The handwriting must belong to whoever placed the articles for Volkov. A plausible excuse, and yet the inconsistencies kept piling up, preying on his conscience. “What’s the good news?”
“We can’t identify the blood used in the bangle.”
Linus sat up straighter as that sense of wrongness pricked his conscience. “It’s not Volkov’s.”
“Thanks to your prior agreement with him, we have plenty of samples for comparison. Whoever donated for the avowal, it wasn’t him.”
The one decent thing Volkov had done was donate enough blood for Linus to tattoo the sentinels during the Siege in order to protect them from vampiric influence, but the gesture had hardly been altruistic. He had demanded a visit from Grier in trade, and though it made Linus taste bile to accept those terms, she had felt it worth her sacrifice to save lives.
“He might have used a donor.” Linus shuffled a stack of papers on his desk, pausing when he spotted a sticky note from Grier that warned him against working too hard. He peeled it up and, leaning over, secured it in a locked drawer where he kept all of his treasures. “It would cast blame away from him.”
“Under different circumstances, sure. I could buy that. The thing is—he gave Grier the real deal back when he was attempting to court her. That carries weight with vampires. He wouldn’t offer up a fake one after that. Not even to mock her. He’s a traditionalist, and the insult would be to him, not her.”
How to Kiss an Undead Bride Page 7