Fire Kin

by M. J. Scott

  I shrugged. “I’d suggest you work on nailing down your cure.”

  “Brilliant,” Simon said, deadpan. “Why hadn’t we thought of that?”

  “What’s the sticking point?” I asked.

  “Do you know much about healing?” Simon asked.

  “A little,” I said. “I’m not trained like Bryony, but I was taught the basics and I’ve picked up a thing or two along the way.”

  “He healed Bryony’s arm in Summerdale,” Guy offered.

  “Not exactly the most subtle of achievements,” Bryony murmured.

  “That doesn’t mean I didn’t understand the theory,” I protested. “I just need more practice.”

  “Let us hope that it doesn’t get to that point,” Bryony replied, flexing her hand. “Because if we get so low on healers that we need your help, then we’re all in trouble.” But she smiled as she said it and I risked an answering grin.

  “I believe Captain Pellar was asking Simon to explain his theories,” Lily said, steering us back from the conversational byway we had strayed down.

  Simon touched her hand and then nodded at me. “All right,” he said. “It goes something like this. When a human drinks vampire blood, his blood changes.”

  “Changes how?”

  “That’s the part that’s hard to explain without healing abilities. You understand how we see when we use our power?”

  I nodded. Yes. I didn’t have the fine control that a healer had, but I knew what it was to sense what was going on inside a body and see the structures in my mind and how they were damaged.

  Simon looked relieved. “Good. Then you know that it’s something that’s sensed more than felt. Anyway, the more vampire blood a human drinks, the more their blood changes. We can sense a difference in the blood between a normal human and one who’s blood-locked. We think the changes mean that it doesn’t do all the things that blood is supposed to do anymore.”

  “So you need a way to change the blood back to how it was?”

  Simon nodded. “Yes. But it’s not that easy. There’s also magic involved. The blood-locked are tied somehow to the vampire’s bloodline.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “If I was blood-locked,” Guy said, “and you killed the vampire who locked me, it wouldn’t be enough to free me.”

  “It never has been, has it?” I asked.

  “It’s not been tried very often,” Lily said. “But as Guy was saying, it’s not enough to kill the vampire who addicted the person. But if you kill the eldest vampire in that bloodline, then it has an effect. We found out by accident when Lord Lucius died. Some of the blood-locked Simon was treating, they woke up a little when that happened.”

  Woke up? I looked at Guy for confirmation. He nodded. But he still looked grim. Which was surprising. I would have thought a Templar would be in favor of anything that might save humans from the Blood. “All right. So killing Lucius roused some of the blood-locked. Why?” It seemed the obvious question.

  “We assumed that it must have been either because Lord Lucius was the one who locked them or because he was the oldest vampire in the City. More likely the latter. Lucius rarely left anyone he locked alive. But he was definitely the oldest vampire in the City, and for many of the court, he was the oldest of their bloodline,” Lily said.

  “Not an easy hypothesis to test.”

  “No,” Simon agreed. “So we’ve been looking for other ways. We’d already been using Atherton’s blood to keep the patients we had here alive. His blood kept the patients from getting worse, but they didn’t improve either. Then Saskia noticed the difference in their blood.”

  “Saskia? Isn’t she a metalmage?” Metalmages were not healers.

  “Her affinity is for iron,” Bryony said. “In her case a very strong affinity. She can sense blood and she can tell the difference between the blood of someone who is locked and someone who is not.”

  “Can you do that too?”

  Bryony nodded. “I learned from Saskia.”

  “You merged?” Merging was one way the Fae used to teach healing techniques. It meant piggybacking onto another’s magic and senses so you could follow along whilst the other healed. I hadn’t heard of a Fae merging with a human before, but then again, I didn’t know much about how human healers were trained.

  Another nod. “It was the quickest way. I can tell the difference, but I don’t yet know what makes them different.”

  My curiosity was growing. Bryony was one of the most highly skilled healers the Fae had. And here was a problem she couldn’t solve.

  “Do you mind if I try?” I didn’t expect to be able to solve what Simon and Bryony couldn’t, but I’d learned over the years that sometimes a different perspective is more valuable than any other.

  Simon turned to Atherton. “Do you have a recent sample?”

  “I can take one,” the vampire said. “I was going to collect a new batch this afternoon anyway.” He turned and made his way through the room to a small cupboard that rested against the far wall. Watching him navigate the room without vision was eerie.

  While we waited for Atherton to take blood from one of the patients, Lily asked me about the previous night’s patrols. It wasn’t a long conversation; there wasn’t much to tell. I recounted the details of the attack earlier in the day.

  “You didn’t catch anyone?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “No. By the time the patrol got back to where we’d been, the snipers had vanished.”

  Atherton came back to us with a vial of blood, thick and dark red.

  I extended my senses, trying to think back to the basic healing I did know. I knew how to make blood clot but had never paid much attention to the blood itself beyond that. The liquid in the vial didn’t seem unusual in any way that I could tell. I said as much.

  “You need something to compare it to,” Bryony said. “Simon, let Atherton take some from you.”

  Simon rolled up his sleeve and Atherton repeated the procedure, filling a second vial. And then, before Bryony could say anything else, he extended his own arm so that Bryony could take blood from him as well. They held out the vials, Simon’s human blood, Atherton’s vampire blood, Bryony with the blood-locked’s. I studied them and reached out again.

  Atherton’s blood felt . . . fainter. Much like the vampire himself. It carried that same sense of disconnection from the earth that I associated with vampires. But apart from that it seemed the same to me. Cooler than Simon’s, but that was understandable. The Blood are cool to the touch.

  Temperature . . . I studied the vials again. And this time reached out with a different sense. The one I used to talk to fire. And this time I saw it. Atherton’s blood was cool. Simon’s was warm. And the blood-locked was somewhere in between. Much cooler than Simon’s even though it had only been out of the patient a few minutes more.

  “The temperature?” I said. “Is that the difference?”

  Bryony looked startled. “Temperature?”

  I pointed at the vials. “Atherton’s blood is coldest. Then the blood-locked, then Simon’s.”

  Bryony reached out and touched Simon’s vial. Her finger rested on the glass for a few seconds while she looked first at the vial Simon was holding and then the one in her hand. “These two feel the same to me.”

  I shook my head. “No. That one’s colder. I swear it. Look with your magic.”

  “I’m not as good with fire as you are.”

  “Try anyway.”

  She frowned and closed her eyes. After a moment, she blinked. “You may be right.”

  “What would make blood colder?” I asked.

  Simon studied the vial in his hands. “I have no idea. But it’s another path to explore. Thank you, Captain.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  BRYONY

  I found Ash on the roof of the Brother House later that night. We’d parted ways after we left the hidden ward. He had questions, but I had no more answers to offer and had sent him back to finish his day a
nd then, if he was sensible, to rest before what was to come tomorrow.

  I had returned to St. Giles, to complete my work as well, but when I left my office, I was well aware that Ash wasn’t sleeping. The pulse of his power sang clearly from the Brother House, not calm as it would be if he was asleep but instead, restless and burning.

  Idiot man.

  He would go to Summerdale with no sleep and then where would he be?

  I argued with myself for a moment or two, trying to tell myself that Asharic wasn’t my concern, but I had passed that point when I let him into my bed again and then when I’d stood by him earlier. Not to mention that he now carried one of the most dangerous secrets that the City had.

  He was indeed my concern, if not my problem entirely. And as much as part of me wanted to deny it, I couldn’t actually leave him to sit through the night alone.

  • • •

  It was cool up on the roof, the autumn air starting to carry with it the first hints of winter rather than the dying breath of the summer heat. But I was warm enough, and able to do something about it if I wasn’t. I carried charms for all sorts of eventualities and besides, if he truly wanted to, Ash could call fire from the stone and make it dance to warm us.

  He was standing by the parapets, looking out toward the Night World. I joined him, staring down at the darkened City and the line of lights that bisected it, marking the boundary between day and night.

  Beyond that line, more lights flared out across the Night World, but from what I could see of the roads and streets, they were quiet as usual.

  “You should be resting,” I said.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” he replied. His expression was distant as he gazed out at the flickering lights.

  They looked pretty from this distance. Like stars strewn across the ground. Deceptive. The Night World wasn’t pretty. It was deadly. I wondered what Ash was seeing or if he was somewhere far away in his head.

  “Coming up here isn’t going to help that.” I gestured at the lights below. “It seems quiet down there. Nothing for you to do.”

  “There’s always something to do,” he said absently, but he stepped back from the parapet, turned his attention back to me. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could feel you pacing from halfway across St. Giles. It was distracting.”

  He smiled. “You’re worried about me.” His smile widened with delight. “Actually worried.”

  “I’m annoyed,” I said. “I wanted to get some sleep myself. It’s a bit hard with you over here acting like a beacon fire. Are you trying to make yourself into a target?”

  “I don’t think anyone in the Night World has a gun that can hit me from here,” he said.

  “No, but they might have magic that can find yours. And besides, I’m not sure the Night World is what you should be concerned about just now.”

  “What should I be concerned with?”

  “Whatever Salvia has in mind for you tomorrow.”

  His expression grew rueful. “She’ll have to find someone better than Invar, if she wants to stop me.”

  “You think you can beat him?”

  “I think I’m stronger than him and I’ve spent the last thirty years perfecting dirty tricks he won’t know about.”

  “You know tricks of warfare. Not Fae magic.”

  “Want to bet?” His smile returned. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

  He always did love gambling and egging me on to do stupid things. “You mean you’ll bet me that you’ll leave me alone if you lose? That seems safe enough. If you lose you won’t be in any condition to cause me any trouble for a while anyway.”

  “It’s not a duel to the death.”

  “I hope not,” I said. “But there’re a lot of things that can be done to you short of death.”

  “What do I get if I win?” He wriggled his eyebrows at me, grinning.

  “Most likely a whole lot of trouble,” I said bluntly.

  The grin died and I almost kicked myself. He’d been relaxing and I’d gone and blurted out the blatant truth and brought all his worries front and center again.

  “That much I agree with,” he said eventually. “It’s never a good idea to show your hand.”

  “Exactly. Remember that tomorrow. Don’t get flashy if you don’t need to.” I paused. “Unless you want to draw the attention of the rest of the court and not just Salvia.”

  “Trust me, Fae politics is the last thing I’m interested in.”

  I believed that much. I wished I believed that he wouldn’t be dragged into it despite his lack of interest if he won the duel tomorrow. Winning would take power. And power was very much of interest to a Fae Court with an empty throne. A gust of wind blew over the parapet, and the cool air made me shiver. “Then you need to be sensible tomorrow. Keep your wits about you.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Which is why you should get some rest,” I said. “So you can remember to do just that.”

  “I’m not sure I can sleep.”

  “Well, maybe I can help with that.”

  His smile flashed again.

  “No. Not like that.”

  “Why not? If I’m to have one last night of normality, isn’t it traditional to send me off with proof of your favor?”

  “I haven’t yet turned you into a toad,” I said. “That’s all the proof you’re getting tonight. Anything else is just a waste of your energy.”

  “Not from where I’m standing.”

  “You’re an idiot. That’s why I’m in charge.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since always.”

  He laughed. “I guess that’s true. I always was yours to command.”

  “Good,” I said. Then lowered myself onto the flagstones with my back against the wall, cushioning myself with my cloak and a small dose of power. I patted my lap. “Come lie down.”

  He did so, wriggling into position and settling his head against my legs. “We haven’t done this for a long time.” He looked suddenly nostalgic.

  “Don’t go getting any ideas.” I had my own memories. Memories of exactly the kinds of things that used to happen once Asharic lay down with me. “Close your eyes.”

  He did for a few seconds and then one dark eye popped open. “Are you sure we can’t do the other thing?”

  “Yes,” I said firmly. I placed my hand over his eyes. “Now, do you trust me?”

  “Always.”

  “Then relax. Just breathe.” I left my hand where it was and stroked a finger along his cheek with the other and then waited, slowing my own breaths deliberately until I felt the tension ease in him and his own breathing settle into the rhythm I’d set.

  I took a minute to just savor it. The familiarity of him. The simple sensation of rightness that came from being near him. And then, before I could be too foolish or he could get bored and decide to rebel, I wound a thread of power through his defenses, sent him into sleep, and settled in for a night of keeping watch.

  • • •

  “You don’t have to come with me,” Asharic said.

  “Shut up,” I said, for at least the tenth time that morning. Ever since he’d woken from his sleep, annoyingly good humored and energetic, he’d been trying to convince me he could go to Summerdale alone. “If I let you go without me, you’ll wind up as a statue for sure.”

  He grinned then, swaying with the motion of the carriage. “Your father won’t like you coming with me.”

  “My father doesn’t like a lot of things I do. One more won’t hurt. And besides, if I’m with you, then he’ll protect you.”

  “You hope. He doesn’t like me very much.”

  “Oh, he hates you. However, he likes me. So he’s not going to let someone get to you while I’m nearby.”

  “That didn’t work so well last time we were in Summerdale.”

  “But he’s on alert now. Besides, the court has summoned you. If they’re following protocol, then they should be protecting you.”

 
“Until the duel starts. And last time I fought a duel, there was not a lot of protocol enforced.”

  I wrinkled my nose at him. “Poor little sa’Uriel. No one treating you like a proper Fae Lord? Not indulging your every whim?”

  His smile turned a little wild. “No, but I can think of a few whims I’d like to have indulged. You could set a good example.”

  “I don’t need to set a good example. I am a good example. A virtual paragon of Fae virtues.”

  “Apart from that pesky insistence on living in the City and healing humans.”

  I nodded. “Everyone needs a flaw or two. Keeps things interesting.”

  “I agree. I’ve worked hard at cultivating mine.”

  “Which are?”

  He slid a little closer. “An inability to take no for an answer.”

  “You had that one from the beginning. No cultivation required.”

  “An inability to stop thinking of all the interesting things we could do in this carriage to while away the long and boring hours until we reach Summerdale.”

  My smile faltered, the humor drowned by a searing flare of heat.

  Damn him. I’d been resisting him successfully, but once again it seemed that proximity and Ash and I were not a good combination when it came to my self-control. I shifted on the seat, feeling the pulse at my neck speed and an answering pulse spring to life between my legs. I needed to answer him. Needed to keep the banter going and direct it back toward safer ground. But my tongue was thick in my mouth, words stolen by the sudden awareness of him. I had spent the night with my hands on him, his body against mine as he slept. A night of watching and fighting the feelings that being with him sent.

  But now I was starting to lose that fight. The carriage was too full of him. His scent. His voice. His body.

  “Ah,” he said softly. “Have I found a flaw that holds your attention?”

  I looked up, met his eyes. “Damn you.”

  “That’s not a no.”

  “No.”

  Heat stole around me as though he’d set his power loose. Though I didn’t think magic had anything to do with this. It was just Ash himself that made my heart shudder and my skin warm.

  His eyes were deep and dark, his expression half-eager, half-wary. “A smart man might think that you were doing this out of pity. A last taste before the end.”