Queen of Swords and Silence

by Carrow Brown

  Rule two, don’t talk about vampires like they aren’t disgusting leeches.

  Nicholas’s lips twitched upward but remained silent as he eyed me over the rim of his glass. “What did you do to warrant being forced to read vampire romance novels?”

  “What makes you think I’m not a hopeless romantic seeking a happy ending?”

  “In the two hundred years we were married, the only romantic thing you enjoyed was being read to by the fireplace.”

  “Hey, all your vampire propaganda books involve eating the sheeple by the fire. Reading is tame next to that. Besides, we did tons of romantic stuff.”

  “I wouldn’t consider campaigns and slaughtering our enemies to be romantic.”

  “Fine. I may, or may not have, accidently broken some artifacts in the Manor which resulted in a long line of books to be read aloud.” I let out a long sigh. “What’s this thing you couldn’t discuss over the phone?”

  Nicholas took a sip of his drink. “The reason is because of your client—Caldrin.”

  “What about him? Other than he really likes the color black.”

  “You’re aware he is a member of the Dark Table, yes?”

  My glass stopped halfway to my mouth. “You’re shitting me. That guy? No, I was not aware he was a part of the mustache-twirling evil organization of darkness.” I lowered my glass to the arm rest. “If he is part of your group, then he’s already powerful enough to do the job on his own. Why hire me to do it for him?”

  “That is also my question. His lack of transparency about his agenda worries me. He was very insistent on the assassination job and required I use my contact within Oath Takers.”

  “Lack of transparency about his agenda? For an evil organization, you don’t communicate very efficiently. Have you tried memos? I hear those work really well.” When he only stared at me, I continued, “Does that mean you’ll be funding my bill?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

  “Awesome. Can I have my second installment in tens, please?”

  Nicholas closed his eyes, brows knitted together. “You want seven million dollars in tens?”

  “Yes.” I gave him my best smile. “U.S. tens, please. Easier to spend at the convenience store.”

  “You’re aware of how much space that will take up?”

  I shrugged a shoulder. “Fill up a couple of duffel bags. It’s not like I can’t carry it.”

  He shook his head. “If you really need funds that much, I could—”

  I held up a hand. “No. Don’t even suggest it. I don’t want your money outside of a contract, Nick.”

  He let out a sigh and leaned back into his chair. “It is technically your money, as well.”

  “It’s not.” I drained my glass and set it down. “Can we go back to talking about Caldrin? Do you know why he wanted me personally?”

  “No, and I advised against it.”

  I frowned. “Why? I’ve done good work with you for centuries. Why wouldn’t you want me to do a job for you?”

  Nicholas leveled a look at me. “Ghost, despite the fact you’ve chosen to remain at the bottom enforcer ranking, you are a nuke without a sender. A final solution most would refer to as ‘overkill.’ Before you were a nuke, you were a plague. A force of horrific nature that most forgot about over time because no one wanted to record the event.”

  I cooed, “That the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  Silence snorted. Rule three, don’t encourage ass kissing.

  Nicholas continued despite my interruption. “Are there other methods we could implement? Yes, and I recommended those, but they did not satisfy Caldrin. This is not a simple matter of revenge between humans. He’s after something more than the head of an apprentice.”

  “The mark is the apprentice of Floyd Bitterwind. Maybe his beef is with him and he’s trying to find a way to lash out at him.”

  “Perhaps, but I wouldn’t assume such.”

  I tapped my fingers along the length of the tumbler. “Subject change: have you heard mythics are going missing? That Hunters are abducting us?”

  When Nicholas didn’t respond, I glanced at him. He scowled, his eyes narrowed, and the hand not holding the tumbler balled up into a fist.

  He didn’t. Silence snickered. That’s gonna eat at him for years.

  “Tell me,” Nicholas said, his voice tense.

  I shared with him what I knew, keeping Yuki’s name out of it and his scowl deepened as I debriefed him.

  “This is troubling,” he said. “Do you know how many in total?”

  “No. There’s a hundred-something photos to review, but I wouldn’t assume it to be all of them.”

  He tapped his fingers along the arm rest while studying me. “What else is troubling you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve always had two moods: jesting and serious. Outside of your introductory quips, you’ve been acting your age. The abductions are dire, but I sense that isn’t all.”

  My fingers tapped together while I sorted my thoughts, deciding what to share. “Something has changed. Or it’s been changing, and we’re only now seeing it. Waypoints aren’t working the way they’re supposed to. Vainya suspects magic is dwindling away, and we are seeing the results of that.” I returned my gaze to his face. “Are vampires experiencing any oddities?”

  Nicholas didn’t move, remaining so still he could’ve been carved from stone. I’d say it was an acquired skill, but anything technically dead could do it. I was about to ask the question again when he spoke. “The younger ones are not as strong. Those who can be birthed are lacking in vitality. Most do not survive the turning.”

  Leaning back in my chair, I studied the painting above the fireplace of two identical-looking men and a woman standing between them in a blue gown. “What’s the success rate?”

  He made a face and shifted in his seat. “It’s gone from seventy-five down to twenty-two percent in the last century.”

  “Shit.” I refilled my drink and drained it, resting my elbows on my knees. “If it’s happening to you, then it has to be with others.”

  “Perhaps this is the natural course. All things end at some point.”

  “Maybe. I just wish I knew a fix for it. Becoming an endangered species sucks.”

  He nodded and rose with a hand extended to me. “Do promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “Please,” I took his offered hand and rose to my feet. “Careful is my middle name.” At the look he gave me, I added, “Okay, it’s not, but I promise I will be.”

  He shook his head, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Before you go, Sebastian asked me to give you something the next time I saw you.”

  My gut cringed. “Oh... lovely. Do I have to accept it, or can we pretend I did?”

  A genuine grin spread across his face. “I’ll never understand your aversion to my twin. Especially after all you two have been through.”

  “Says the guy who paid me to capture him. But since you forgot, I’ll remind you.” I ticked off the points on my fingers. “He’s insane, enjoys murdering small children for the squeals, can’t decide if he wants to put my head on a pike or fuck me—maybe both at the same time, which is disgusting even by my standards.” I dropped the hand. “And, this is at the top of the list, he was only attracted to me because he liked how I ripped the head off a man’s shoulders.”

  “It was an impressive feat.”

  I scoffed. “Look, I’m not married to either of you anymore, and accepting gifts from Sebastian is a bad idea. He might assume things.” I shrugged. “That’s what the modern self-help books said, anyway.”

  Nicholas’s head tilted to the side as he said, “If it weren’t because his name makes you squirm, I would’ve put him out of his misery long ago.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I’m not sure how to take that remark.” He walked over to his desk and opened a drawer. Pulling out a long flat paper-wrapped parcel, he unwrapped the package and took out a jewelry box,
which he handed to me.

  Taking it, I tested the weight before opening it. I blinked, turning my head one way and then another as I looked at the thing inside. It appeared to be a loose mask, but it was stiff as leather when I poked it. It was hard to tell features just from the skin as there was no bone structure to give it form, but I knew the face well enough to know the owner without it.

  I looked up at Nicholas. “That’s his face. Sebastian’s face. He did this? He cut it off himself?”

  Nicholas nodded. “He said he wanted to give you something that made you think of him.”

  I jabbed a finger at it. “How? Who was insane enough to give him a knife?”

  “There was no knife. He used his fingers.” His grin, a gesture which turned his face into something devilish. “It grew back. Eventually.”

  “Ugh... just no! That’s disgusting.” I shuddered. “And you knew it was in there!” I held the box to him. “Tell him I was moved by the gift but couldn’t accept. Maybe suggest composing a mix tape of music instead. A better creative outlet. Any other creative outlet than self-skinning.”

  Nicholas, his face going deadpan, didn’t move to take the open box from me. “You touched it last.”

  “Argh! You fucking dick!” I snapped. Eying the fire, I considered throwing it in there. In the end, after a long moment, I resealed it and shoved the box into my bag. Vainya could use it for something. Maybe. Or I could bury it in Grave Wood so it would never see the light of day again.

  “You’re lucky I like you so much, Nicholas,” I growled.

  His grin returned. “I am. I do enjoy our chats.”

  “I’m sure you do.” I adjusted my bag and turned for the door.

  David looked up from one of the papers he was reading when I stepped into the hall. “Hey, I have an idea.”

  Closing the door, I jammed my hand into my pockets. “All right, hit me.”

  “You said you want more info about all this stuff involved, right?” He held up a photo of Patrick. “He’s the keystone in all this, so let’s abduct him. We can interrogate and kill him afterward.”

  His callousness just gave me shivers.

  “I read the papers while you were having your talk. Everything we need to know is in here.” David flicked the manila envelope. “Home address, work hours, favorite fast-food place… It’s an easy grab.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I held out my hand for the envelope. “You’re inviting yourself in on my job?”

  “What would I be doing?” David placed it into my palm, and I looked through the first few sheets. It was all there, everything we’d need – flow. Caldrin had gone above and beyond in providing details on the target.

  “You don’t look pleased,” David said. “Rather I keep my nose out of it?”

  “No.” I put everything back inside. “It’s a great idea. Let’s go and get what we need.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Ho, Ho, Ho

  It was late at night when we emerged from the Grafham Water the next day with the aid of another water elemental. The only things that clung to me this time were algae and sediment, a welcome change from the oily texture of Toyko Bay.

  David rubbed a hand over his nose. “Ugh, what is that smell?”

  I pulled in a breath and picked up on the putrid stench of too many chickens shoved into one place. “Chicken shit.” I turned and pointed to a half-round barn over the tree line. “Probably a chicken farm.”

  “It’s disgusting.”

  I laughed. “I thought you grew up on a farm.”

  “An orchard and cows.”

  “Cow shit is just as bad.”

  David faced me with a hand still over his nose and mouth. “No, it isn’t. Chicken shit has more nitrogen in it. We used it, but it was dried, not fresh.”

  Snorting, I elbowed him in the side. “You spent too much time in the city.”

  “I’ll take city pollution over this.”

  We walked toward the village in our search for Patrick’s house. There were plenty of houses crammed together, but not one corner store or even a pub.

  I stood outside of a building that should have been a pub, but instead it was some fancy curry place. “How can they call this a village when there’s no pub? There has to be a law against this.”

  You’re just looking for another place to have a drink, Silence commented, as I resumed following the directions of my GPS. We should get you a sippy cup full of vodka.

  I snorted. “You’re funny.”

  David nudged me. “Me or the voice in your head I can’t hear?”

  “Sorry, I mean Silence.”

  “No worries. I am sure at some point I’ll get used to your one-sided conversations. How is your buddy doing?”

  I think the best way to murder him will be by wrapping his intestines around his neck while he is still alive. Lots of blood, violence, and agony.

  “He’s doing great and thanks you for asking.”

  I admitted Patrick’s choice to keep a house in a small, pub-less village turned out to be genius. In a large city, it was easy to blend in. No one thought much about a strange car parked on the side of the road, since they assumed it belonged to someone else on the street or a visitor. A small village where everyone’s kids went to the same school and brought food for post-mass on Sunday? Impossible to remain unnoticed.

  A left, a right, and another left turn later, we stood outside the address given for Patrick in Caldrin’s information pack. There wasn’t a car in the gravel driveway, and all the lights were off. Standing next to the building, I pressed a hand against it to get a sense for it and frowned at the centuries I sensed in the home. Rather than firm resistance to outsiders, a chill ran along my back while nausea rose up in my throat, like the house was almost inviting conflict.

  Ooo. I like this place. Do you feel it? The violence soaked into the walls?

  Swallowing, I walked along the Silence-approved wall, never breaking contact with the surface. I tried to sense anything that would’ve given a reason for my unease. Sometimes repeated acts of violence became part of a home’s identity, tainting it until it made horror movies look like kiddy play, becoming aware, watching and inciting, caught in a cycle of death.

  Nothing spiritual pressed against me during the inspection; so, it wasn’t a ghost or poltergeist. I breathed in to see if I could pick up on something nasty, but all I scented was wet grass and chicken shit.

  “You okay?” David spoke, making me jump. “You’ve gone really quiet.”

  “Just getting a feel for the building.”

  “Good feel?”

  “No. It’s more like bad-shit-happens-here feel.”

  Switching from the spiritual, I looked at Patrick’s home magically and saw the framework of the house light up as if it were covered in Christmas lights. Magical wards covered the windows and doors for protection and wellbeing. Not the simple keep-the-Brownies-out kind of wards that any hedge wizard or junior witch might put up, but keep-out-magi-prying-eyes wards that took effort and sacrifice—lots, and lots of sacrifice—to put up.

  Whatever Patrick did in his house, he didn’t want anyone to know about it. Judging by the glow-stick brightness, they had just been applied within the last few days.

  “What the fuck is he up to?” I murmured, opening the modest gate at the side of the house, which led to the double glass doors of the kitchen entrance and backyard. “He’s got the place warded to the stars against people trying to see inside.” I pressed my hand to one ward along the door frame. “This is to keep the Little People and boggarts out.”

  “Boggarts?”

  “Boggarts are what Little People become if they’re mistreated or neglected. They can get really nasty.”

  “I feel like I should be writing this all down, so I remember.”

  “You’ll remember when one puts their clammy hand on you for the first time. It’s called experiential learning, and it sticks.” I withdrew my hand and headed to the back of the house. “I’m more curious why
they’re being kept out.”

  The wall facing the garden was covered in ivy, with gaps about the windows. Three trees loomed over the other plants. I pulled in the scents through my nose and picked up a wide range of herbs and flowers. There were the typical cooking herbs such as basil, sage, thyme, but also others that had more esoteric uses. I frowned while walking along the pavestones to get a better look at the section where the foreign plants grew. Every plant was in the prime of its life despite the fact it was still late English winter. Inside a halved wooden barrel covered in plastic flourished exotic vegetation common in the tropics. Everything within the garden had a purpose either in potions or cooking.

  Turning my attention to the three trees, I spied an apple, an orange, and a cinnamon tree. All the branches drooped, heavy with fruit. Sucking on my teeth, I looked back at the house.

  “At the very least, Patrick is an alchemist, based on the types of plants he has. He’s getting them to bear fruit in the middle of winter.”

  Or, Silence said, he could be a magi with a talent for garden magic. Or a druid. Druids can get stuff to grow when they shouldn’t, right?

  “No. Not a druid.” I eyed the exotic plants belonging to warmer climates, such as India or California. “Getting plants to bloom outside of season like this is beyond them. A Fae of the summer court might be able to.”

  “Maybe he creates performance-enhancing stuff?” David said. “There’s definitely a market for that.”

  I pursed my lips at the thought, but I admitted to myself it had some merit. “Possible.”

  Turning my attention back to the house, I walked over to the double glass doors and peered inside. I didn’t see or sense anything within the house, mundane or otherwise. Turning my attention to the vertical rim lock on the door, I saw a magical reinforcement on it. Frowning, I straightened back up and walked about the house. Having closed off the spiritual and the magical, I was looking for more mundane protections. After walking the circuit one more time and peering through the windows, I looked along the sides of it to look through the windows for an alarm system and didn’t see one in the typical areas.