by J. A. London
“Then we are of like minds. Have you a carriage? If not, I would be honored to have you ride with me.”
“He’s riding with me,” Richard says. “But we’re going by car.”
I can tell from Fabian’s curled lip that he finds the thought of traveling in such a vehicle distasteful. He’s obviously embraced the Old Family’s dislike of modern conveniences and isn’t quite as rebellious as Richard and Victor are.
“Cousins!” a vampire shouts, striding toward us. From his black hair to his blue eyes and sharp royal features, he has Valentine written all over him. He stops before us. “You’re looking well.”
“Dawn, allow me to introduce Rayne Valentine,” Victor says. “I believe you’ve had the honor of meeting his father, Seymour.”
It wasn’t that much of an honor. He is Murdoch Valentine’s brother and expressed an interest in becoming head of the family once Murdoch was dead. But Victor quickly put him in his place. Diplomacy forces me to say, “I remember him well.”
“He did not speak highly of you,” he says. “But my father has always been a terrible judge of character, and I’m sure he made his usual mistake with you.”
He takes my hand and kisses it. Then kisses it again. And again.
“All right,” Victor says, playfully slapping his hand away. “I see that only some of the Valentines have kept their manners after all these years.”
“Yes,” he says, “and the other half have kept their good looks.” He combs back his hair with his hands.
Victor laughs. “You’re just as I remembered.”
“Dashing?”
“Arrogant.”
“I’ll take it.”
They pat each other on the shoulders in the exact same way any cousins would at a family reunion.
“Why are you here, Rayne?” Faith asks.
He appears taken aback by her question. “I came at Victor’s behest to represent the Valentine family.”
Faith shakes her head. “No, I’m going on behalf of the Valentines.”
Uh-oh. Now I know why there was one more number than I expected.
“Faith,” Victor says quietly, moving toward his sister. “We can’t risk you going.”
She spins around, her face livid. “What are you talking about?”
“If anything were to happen to you—”
“Do I have to remind you that I’ve already been to Los Angeles?”
“We didn’t realize how bad it was then,” Richard says.
Faith glares at him. “I held my own.”
“You did.”
“Then why did Victor send for Rayne?”
“Faith—”
“Why?”
Richard moves with such quickness, just a blur, and he’s holding her, hands on her face, her tears running through his fingers.
“Because I can’t protect them if you’re with me. You’ll be the only thing I care about. You . . . you are the only thing I care about.”
“But who will protect you?” she asks, her voice just a whisper.
“They will.”
She shakes her head like it isn’t enough. “No one can protect you like I can.”
He pulls her into his shoulder and holds her. “I know.”
“I’d never hurt you.”
“I know.”
She isn’t talking about Los Angeles anymore or protecting him from Sin’s army. She pulls back, her arms around his neck. “Just return to me.”
When she steps away, Victor looks at Richard and I see the loyalty—even the love—they have for each other. A hundred years of a deep connection that few vampires ever experience. They hug, and when they part, Victor gives a final nod.
Before they can leave, I rush over to Ian, who is loading up the trunk of the car.
“Ian.”
He turns toward me and I can sense the bristling power, the excitement of the mission to come. But I also sense the recognition that it could be one mission too many.
“Don’t say goodbye,” he says. “It’s bad luck.”
“Then what should I say?”
Ian smiles and looks up at the sky, as if recognizing for the first time how clear it is tonight.
“Just say, ‘I’ll see you when you get back.’”
“I will. I’ll see you when you get back.”
He puts his hand on my head and rubs my hair, like a father proud of his little girl.
From the steps of the manor, Victor, Faith, and I watch the carriages roll out in a steady procession, led by the car that contains Richard and Ian.
“We need to get that Sin-worshipping bitch to talk,” Faith says. “I’m in the mood to take down some Day Walkers.”
Chapter 21
Faith stalks off to her room, probably to hurl some valuables around. Victor stares off into the night sky, his mind perhaps considering the methods they used during the war. What kind of things did he do then that made people talk? I have a terrible feeling in my gut that Victor can be much, much more persuasive if he wants to be. But will that unleash the monster within? Will Victor lose what makes him so human if he has to resort to such horrific things that he locked away long ago?
“Let me talk to Eris,” I say.
Victor turns and assesses me. “All right,” he agrees. “Perhaps she’ll be more willing to talk if you’re alone with her.” We walk back into the house and continue on to the study. He opens up a drawer on the desk and pulls out a metal stake. He places it in my hand. “Just in case. She’ll be weaker, but it’s also possible she’s been faking her lack of strength. For all we know, she could just be waiting for the right opportunity to break through the chains.”
I nod, understanding that if I must, I’ll put this through her heart.
In the dungeon I dismiss the guard watching her. We’re all alone, the pale light from the flickering lamps casting more shadows than revealing our surroundings. Eris seems weak. The combination of blood hunger and stress is finally showing on the chained emissary. She’s pale, leading me to wonder whether her beautiful skin has come from the sun or a healthy supply of fresh blood. Her hair is dirty and slick with oil and sweat. Victor’s ruse is having an effect. She looks like she wants to give up. For her, the strength she would gain from the Thirst is no consolation for becoming hideous.
I soften my footsteps and kneel in front of her, trying to act more like a friend than adversary. She looks up at me, surrender evident in her eyes. I brush the hair off her face, using a gentle touch.
“I want to talk,” I say.
“Then talk.” Her voice has lost its luster, replaced with the cold need to survive.
“How much longer do you have?” I ask.
“You’re the vampire expert, you tell me.”
“I’m no expert in the Thirst. But I’ve heard that a vampire can feel the change coming.”
She looks away, her chest rising and falling, struggling against the constricting chains.
“I don’t know,” she says to the floor. “I feel weak, but I also feel like I’m on the verge of something, like a terrible black void is right behind me and I’m about to slip into it.”
“I wonder if that’s what my brother felt.”
Her head tilts up, sorrow and confusion on her face.
“My brother was just like you,” I say. “He was a Day Walker, turned by Sin.”
“I know,” she says quickly. I imagine she knows just about everything Sin does, which is I why I need her to talk. Even if I have to confess things I’d rather keep bottled away.
“Did Sin tell you how Brady succumbed to the Thirst?” I ask.
“No.”
“Brady refused to drink from humans. He didn’t want to hurt them, so he fed on vampires, thinking that would sustain him. It didn’t. The Thirst took over his mind.”
I wait in the silence, my delegate training telling me she wants to speak, but I have to give her time, give her a chance.
“Sin never wanted Brady to become one of the Infected. He hoped to gai
n another ally, much like myself. Of course, when your brother’s change was complete, and Sin saw how powerful he was, it gave him the idea for the Chosen. Infected Day Walkers, the most dangerous creatures to ever walk the earth—and Brady was the first.”
I pause for a moment, preparing my next statement carefully. “And soon, you’ll be another.”
She releases the tiniest of squeaks. “I know.”
“But you still have a choice. For you, there is still a fork in the path and a direction to choose. Just tell us how the Day Walkers are getting into the city, Eris, and all of this will stop. It isn’t too late.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Maybe not, but I know what the alternative is, and I know why you fear it. The Chosen aren’t blessed like you. No, they’re cursed. They may be powerful, but they trade everything for that power. The Day Walkers right now don’t realize that until it’s too late, but you’ve witnessed it firsthand, you’ve seen Sin’s army of the Chosen begin to form, and you know the madness and darkness that grows in their souls.”
Eris’s eyes betray her now: They speak to me, revealing her fears. I reach down and find her hands, bound at the wrist to her body. I hold them, knowing that even in a weakened state her strength could crush the bones in my fingers. But I know what I’m doing.
“I don’t want to become one,” she says, her voice just above a whisper, as if it escaped from her throat when her consciousness wasn’t looking.
“I know. And you don’t have to. Just tell us how the Day Walkers are getting into the city.”
“Sin will kill me,” she says.
“He’ll never know.”
“Yes, he will. He always knows, and then I’ll have given up the only thing he asks for: loyalty.”
I tighten my grip on her hands, somewhere between violence and compassion.
“You will be dead anyway,” I say, no longer sure who is the interrogator, whose soul is being peered into. “Because the Thirst will rob you of everything that you are. When I killed my brother, he looked at me, and I knew that death was a sweet release for him. His own body and mind tortured him. Don’t do that to yourself, Eris.”
I feel her hands shaking, I sense the walls of her will collapsing. One final push . . .
“I’m not asking you to join us,” I say. “I’m not asking you to fight against Sin. And when this is over, we can protect you. But we have to know how they’re getting into the city.”
Eris closes her eyes tightly and I see a single tear fall to the ground, perhaps the only tear she’s ever shed as a vampire. She seems so human in this harsh light, nothing like the daughter of the sun who walked into our lives.
“Hursch,” she cries softly.
“Roland Hursch?”
“Yes. He’s hiding them.”
Over the next several minutes Eris tells me everything: When Sin first arrived in Denver, masquerading as a new student, he brought three dozen of his most loyal Day Walkers with him. They remained in Denver, watching Sin from the shadows, protecting him in case he was exposed for what he truly was. They were also told to wait. And wait. And wait.
“Wait for the signal,” Eris said. “And that signal was my arrival.”
Sin was very busy as a student, involved in extracurricular activities I never would’ve dreamed about. He met with Hursch and made him an offer: “Let my Day Walkers stay in your mansion. Protect them. And when the time comes, release them as Eris requests. They will go out into the city, slowly at first, but always to return to you. When I have conquered the world, you will rule over the humans.”
I feel sick, and yet I’m not surprised. Hursch wants power, but none of the responsibility that goes along with it. His rants all along haven’t been about what was best for Denver, but what was best for him. By embracing Sin’s promise, he’ll finally be where he wants: at the center of everything.
I’m stunned. The Day Walkers weren’t finding ways to get into the city. They’ve been there all along.
Chapter 22
“Are you ready?” Victor asks.
The wind in the city is strong tonight, and it’s cold, bringing a chill that can cut to the bone. All I can do is nod and wrap my arms around Victor’s neck. We both look up at the roof high above us and the moon so much higher, clouded by the dense pollution of the Works that fuels the city. I close my eyes when Victor jumps, and I feel the wind rush through me and our soft landing as his feet find solid purchase. When I open my eyes, we’re on top of the house. The owners of the very expensive, very large mansion probably won’t be too happy that we’ve invaded their privacy and had the audacity to walk on their property. But when the news of Hursch’s betrayal hits the stands tomorrow, they won’t care about a few footprints on their roof.
In retrospect, I understand why the Day Walkers rained hell on the city as soon as Victor left. Hursch knew the new Lord Valentine was traveling; Victor had told him so when Hursch barged into the Agency. Hursch must have told Eris that day. How else would the timing have been so perfect?
I look out over the neighborhood, the richest and most lavish one in the entire city. All the wealth is here: businessmen and con men alike. People walk by and are envious but can’t stare for long before security shoos them away, as if their stares alone could devalue the estates.
All the players are here, but they don’t show their colors, not yet. Night Watchmen blend in with the shadows, their shrouded features in contrast to their intricate pendants. Michael is probably among them. I try not to worry.
With the Night Watchmen are Anita and her crew of loyal Lessers. They are dressed as Night Watchmen so no one is mistaken as the enemy.
I see a car pull up, black and familiar. It’s the car that used to drive me to the Agency to give my reports.
Jeff gets out. He’s traded in his normal suit and tie for something much more tactical: his old military outfit, complete with neck guard and stakes. I’ve never seen him wear it, but it looks completely natural, as though it were always just under his suit, just over his skin.
He looks around, and everyone moves to their positions. It’s like watching a beautiful ballet that no one else can see. He then slams the car door shut as loud as possible, his signal for all hell to break loose.
I’ve had a lot of intense moments in my life: facing down Valentine, riding in a carriage with Sin to destinations unknown, waiting for my friends to rescue me from Eris. All of them I’ll remember forever, and the emotions that they brought. This moment will definitely join the others on the top shelf of my memories.
I clasp Victor’s hand the entire time. Doors are kicked in, windows broken, human and vampire screams echoing through the house and outside into the neighborhood, where lights are quickly turned on, neighbors exiting their front doors before rapidly retreating back inside. Every time a shriek fills the air, I squeeze Victor’s hand tighter, unsure whether it’s coming from the mouth of a friend or foe.
The takedown lasts only a few minutes, and I recheck my watch to make sure I got it right. It seems like a time warp, every second stretching into minutes, weighed down by all the lives at risk, not just inside the house but inside this entire city, maybe every city that stares up at the night sky and is afraid.
But eventually, Jeff and Anita walk out the door, Roland Hursch between them in handcuffs. And following them are the Night Watchmen and the Lessers, stakes in hand. I study them carefully, grateful when I recognize a familiar stride. Michael is okay.
Then my attention is riveted by the screeches of a girl who is very, very pissed off. A Night Watchman appears holding Hursch’s squirming daughter.
“Let me go!” Lila shouts.
Lila and I have never been close. After I became the delegate, she went out of her way to make my life miserable at school: painting my locker red, starting rumors that I was sleeping with vampires, making me out to be the enemy. Ironic that her father was the true enemy.
I don’t know if she was in on Daddy’s little secret; it’
s hard to imagine she wasn’t.
“Do you know who I am?” she cries.
But the Night Watchman doesn’t speak, simply moves her toward another waiting car and throws her into the back with a little excessive force. Lila scrambles to the door, but it shuts in her face. And I can’t help but notice that the Night Watchman who put Lila in her place is wearing red, six-inch heels.
But as much as I’d love to watch Lila be taken off to the Agency, something amazing catches my eye. The unthinkable, and the thing I’d always hoped for, the thing my parents dreamed of: the vampires and humans begin shaking hands, begin laughing, begin patting each other’s backs. A job well done.
And it was.
I get the mission report from Jeff: twenty-four Day Walkers slain. On our side: four killed.
“Vampire or human?” I ask.
“What does it matter?” Jeff responds. He’s right, what does it matter? They fought together, they wielded stakes against the enemy just the same, they protected one another. What does it matter whether they bore fangs or not?
“Go get some rest,” Jeff says. “Tomorrow night, we tell everyone, and they better be prepared.”
I don’t take Jeff’s advice. I’m too excited to rest, not to mention there’s a party. It feels weird rejoicing, as we’re celebrating a victory hard won, but we’re also celebrating the end to the attacks on Denver.
The party takes place in a safe house for Night Watchmen—an old, abandoned apartment building. At least, that’s what it looks like from the outside. But inside, things take a strange turn once we find the right door on the fifth floor. Labeled 504, it opens with a secret knock, and inside I can see the renovation work that’s been done.
All the adjacent apartments are connected, the walls between them knocked down long ago, creating a continuous ten-bedroom, ten-kitchen, ten-bathroom apartment. Much of the space has been refurbished, designed for storage of equipment and giant maps of the city, where the Night Watchmen can plan their surgical strikes. And of course all the windows are boarded up tight, all the doors except for one nailed shut and renailed again.