Harlequin Nocturne May 2016 Box Set

by Susan Krinard

  “Lundquist!” Apollo snapped. “That’s stupid talk.”

  “Why wouldn’t the Nine stop such attacks?” Daniel asked. “What about the Lawkeepers?”

  “They don’ care about us. Never did.” Lundquist took a hearty swig of beer. “What about th’ people gone missing? Huh?” He swept his arm across the table, nearly upsetting the other glasses. “Disappearing right unner the noses of their friends ’n’ families, taken away by them, and nobody knows where—”

  “People missing?” Isis said.

  “Don’t pay any attention to him, Sekhmet,” Apollo said with an uneven smile. “Lundquist, talk sense for once.”

  But Lundquist had apparently reached his limit. His head sank toward the tabletop, and when it came to rest he fell into a stupor.

  CHAPTER 16

  Isis could hardly believe what she’d heard. Humans disappearing? Not once had she encountered such a rumor, not from her own peers or anyone who passed through her ward.

  The human’s accusation about her making humans love her closely echoed Daniel’s early allegations, the ones she had denied. Who had put such thoughts into the man’s head? And his claim that there might have been other gang attacks...

  “He’s drunk,” Apollo said, a little too loudly. “He rambles about his crazy theories all the time. Crazy conspiracies.” He tilted his mug at Isis. “Buy you a drink?”

  “It’s on me,” Daniel said. He flagged down a server. “Drinks for everyone!”

  Still afraid to move, Isis waited until she was presented with her drink and sipped it cautiously. It tasted sour, but not unbearably so. Soon the others were drinking, and she heard their voices begin to slur. She heard talk of the action by the mob at the Games. They spoke of Daniel with a kind of grudging admiration and speculation as to his origins. He came from another Citadel, they said. He had lived in the wilderness for years, they said. He had fought off a dozen Opiri thugs.

  But he wasn’t one of them.

  Daniel listened without comment. But the others said no more about the disappearances or the Nine abusing their powers.

  When Daniel had finished his drink, he got up from the table and exchanged a few final words with the others, subtly taking Isis’s arm. They made their way out of the beer garden and into the crowd outside, which was, if anything, even thicker than before.

  Isis stumbled, and Daniel grabbed her. “Is it the alcohol?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, a little breathless. “I cannot become inebriated.”

  “Maybe we should find a place for you to rest.”

  “I am fine.” She straightened with effort. “Had you ever heard that humans were disappearing?”

  “No.” He gripped her arm, and at that moment she was glad for his support.

  “Did Lundquist not say that his fellows were being taken away?”

  “By someone he wouldn’t or couldn’t name,” Daniel said with a quick glance around.

  “Surely it is just because he was drunk, as his companion said,” Isis said. “He spoke of conspiracy theories—”

  “You mean the companion who seemed so eager to shut Lundquist up and blame his accusations on alcohol?”

  Isis pulled away. She remembered how anxious Apollo had seemed to excuse Lundquist’s words...and not, she thought, merely because he thought they were ridiculous.

  “Even if there was any truth in the man’s claims,” she said, “he must be mistaken about the cause. Anyone is free to leave Tanis when they wish. Perhaps these humans simply chose to seek another life outside.”

  “People don’t just vanish from their homes and work and families.”

  “We still have only the word of one drunken man,” she said, “and no details. Would their loved ones not approach the Lawkeepers if such a thing were to happen?”

  Daniel drew her away from the nearest booths to the side of the avenue, where there was little activity. “We discussed this, Isis. You heard Lundquist. The humans in Bes’s ward had no faith in the Lawkeepers or in Tanisian justice. Is it so surprising that other humans share their opinion?”

  “Do you suggest that the Lawkeepers are corrupt?” Isis asked. “There could be no peace here at all if they did not do their jobs.” She caught her breath. “Anyone aware of these supposed disappearances could have come to me, and I would have—”

  “You’ve already given reassurances to people with similar doubts, but Lundquist certainly doesn’t trust you, either.”

  “It was as if he had been coached to say what he did.”

  “I agree. But who was coaching him?” He paused and began again. “Let’s assume that Lundquist was telling the truth and Apollo knew it. Could these people who disappeared have been found guilty of some crime without public knowledge and been exiled in secret?”

  “I would know.”

  “Who else could be responsible?”

  “Do you truly think the Nine have something to do with such actions? It is far more likely that the humans themselves are responsible.”

  “How?”

  “You witnessed them quarreling among themselves,” she said. “At the construction site some became violent. Perhaps, if one of them commits a crime, the others might—”

  “Take the law into their own hands? Exile or even kill their fellow humans?”

  Isis felt sick. “None of this makes sense,” she said. “Is it not far more likely that Lundquist said these things to arouse ill feelings?”

  “But why? What would be his motive?”

  “If he shares other humans’ resentment of Opiri, justified or not, would that not be motive enough to invent stories of further perfidy on our part?”

  Daniel shook his head, less in denial than in bemusement. “What about these other Opir gangs he mentioned? Could there have been further attacks without our hearing of it?”

  “There must be a way to find out. Other humans at the Festival—”

  “And the Nine,” Daniel said.

  “If any among the Nine are aware of these things,” Isis said, “I will find out.”

  “You’ll have to be very careful,” Daniel said. “If some of them know and haven’t told you, there’s a reason they’re keeping it from you.”

  “You claimed that Anu was not my friend, but there is still no reason to believe that the others—”

  “Isis,” Daniel said, resting his hands on her shoulders, “maybe you should return to your apartment. If anyone suspects what or who you are, I’ll lose any chance of gaining the trust of the humans who might know more about this.”

  “You have forgotten that someone tried to poison you. I will not leave the Festival without you.”

  “And I’m not leaving.” He squeezed her shoulders gently. “We’d better split up. Find other Opiri, and see if you can learn anything from them. Rumors, gossip, it doesn’t matter so long as it points us in the right direction.”

  Isis longed to hold him, to remind herself that he was not a dream who would suddenly vanish like the humans in Lundquist’s story. “I am afraid,” she whispered. “Afraid for Tanis. For you.”

  “Isis,” he said. Only the one word, but it held a wealth of meaning: understanding, concern, encouragement. Affection.

  And perhaps even...

  “Do you believe that I force humans to love me?” she asked, though it took all her courage to speak the words.

  “I don’t think you have to force anyone, Isis.”

  Her throat tightened. “You will be careful?” she asked.

  “I will, if you promise to do the same.”

  “I do.” She backed away quickly, before she could change her mind. “I will see you in four hours.”

  * * *

  Daniel had almost reached the beer garden when he heard the muffled scream. He
ran down the nearest alley to find two shadowed figures struggling, the larger holding the smaller up against the wall as his mouth clamped on her neck.

  Sprinting deeper into the alley, Daniel hit the Opir with the full weight of his body, forcing him to let loose of the young woman’s throat. At once the Opir turned on Daniel, his face barely covered by the mask of some grotesque animal, and counterattacked.

  Within seconds, Daniel knew that this Opir would be far harder to defeat than the gang members in Bes’s ward. He was strong and fast and experienced, and he knew how to overpower humans; he knocked Daniel’s mask off and went straight for his jugular.

  “Run!” Daniel shouted to the girl just before the Opir made contact. He felt sharp teeth grazing his throat, and blood spattered his skin as he dodged the worst of the attack. He twisted his body, crouching and spinning to knock his opponent’s legs out from under him. The Opir leaped out of reach and snarled, scarcely hesitating before he launched his next assault.

  Daniel had braced himself, but the Opir still bore him down to the ground, pinning Daniel’s arms and snapping at his neck. Daniel slammed his knee into the Opir’s groin, and bought just enough time to roll out from under him. Panting hard, he considered his limited options.

  There was one trick that worked on overconfident Opiri who were accustomed to the crippling effects of human fear. Daniel pressed himself against the wall, frozen, and then suddenly burst into a run toward the front of the alley. The Opir easily intercepted him, and Daniel put up a weak struggle as the Nightsider slammed him back into the wall and sank his teeth into Daniel’s throat.

  For a moment, Daniel was truly frozen. He relived his life before Ares, the feeling of utter helplessness, the inability to fight back because Palemon almost always kept him chained. The Opir drank deep, obviously intending to drain him into a coma or death.

  It was madness for an Opir of Tanis to openly kill a human citizen, but clearly this one didn’t fear the consequences. Daniel thought of leaving Isis alone, and all at once his strength and will returned to him. While the Opir fed, believing his prey to be helpless, Daniel struck without warning and grabbed the Nightsider by the hair, jerking his head back. He groped with his other hand for the knife hidden under his belt and jammed it into the Opir’s shoulder close to the base of his neck.

  With a cry of pain and surprise, the Opir staggered backward. Daniel followed with several kicks and rapid-fire punches, and the Nightsider began to retreat.

  Snarling like a panther, Daniel flung himself on the Opir, who fell to his knees with Daniel’s knife still in his shoulder. Daniel grabbed at the knife’s grip, but the Nightsider twisted away and staggered toward the mouth of the alley, leaving the knife in Daniel’s hand. The Opir lurched onto the main street, where a dozen masked revelers caught and held him for a moment before he broke free and lumbered away. A few in the crowd started after him, but the rest huddled around a weeping young woman, comforting her with touches and soft voices.

  Daniel wiped his knife on the inside of his shirt, sheathed it and limped toward the mouth of the alley. Several people looked up as Daniel approached, and a pair broke free of the group to meet him. Daniel paused to pick up his mask and held it loose in his hand.

  “We saw it,” a young man said in a breathless voice. “You got that bloodsucker away from the girl just in time.” He removed his mask to reveal a freckled, wide-eyed face. “If I hadn’t seen it, I’d never’ve believed it.”

  “Is the girl all right?” Daniel asked, wiping the blood away from his throat.

  “Scared out of her mind, but okay.” The young man glanced over his shoulder. “She’ll want to thank you.”

  “That isn’t important,” Daniel said. “What is important is that an Opir attacked a human with the intent to take blood against her will, or possibly to kill her.”

  The boy’s companion, an older woman with a deeply weathered face, removed her mask, as well. “Yes,” she said. “I have been here since the beginning of Tanis, and this has never happened before.”

  “The Opir escaped,” Daniel said. “He could do this again.”

  “I know.” The woman’s face became distorted with anger. “If they think for one moment that they can get away with this...”

  “Who?” Daniel asked.

  Her expression became guarded. “Others like him. The ones that still look on us as slaves.” She clamped her lips together as if to stop herself from saying more. “What you did was very brave. We’ll report this to the Lawkeepers, but we won’t tell them about your part in this. I’d leave now, if I were you.”

  It was just like the gang attack all over again, Daniel thought. “Take care of the girl?” he asked.

  “Of course we will.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  She smiled, her teeth white and even. “Good luck,” she said, and turned back to the people gathered around the girl. The young man lingered.

  “We saw what you did at the Games,” he said, his eyes shining. “We won’t forget.”

  Daniel knew he didn’t deserve praise for what he’d done, either at the Games or tonight. He was ashamed. Ashamed for freezing during the fight, for remembering too much, for letting the Opir win, if only for a few seconds. His years as a fighter and scout for Avalon, his time at Delos had made no difference.

  Isis was right. You may tell yourself that those scars don’t matter anymore, she had said. But you can never convince me that the past is gone, Daniel. Not for you.

  Oblivious to Daniel’s dark thoughts, the boy pulled his mask back on and ran after the woman. Daniel thought he caught a glimpse of a Lawkeeper beyond the throng, and turned in the opposite direction. The blood on his neck was already coagulating, though the Opir must have healed the wound out of reflex rather than because he wanted to preserve Daniel from exsanguination.

  It took several seconds before Daniel realized that someone was applauding. The Opir standing in front of him wore no mask. His long, handsome face was cast in shadow, and he was smiling.

  “Bravo,” Hannibal said. “Daniel of Erebus. Brave defender of helpless females, victor over the evil bloodsucker.”

  Daniel strode toward him. “Did you have something to do with this, Hannibal?” he growled.

  “I only happened to catch the fight while I was passing by the alley,” Hannibal said. “You were very good, except that one moment when you froze and let him take a bite out of your neck. It must have required considerable effort on his part to pierce the scar tissue.”

  Barely containing his contempt and anger, Daniel balled his fists. “If you intend to report me for fighting, you’ll find there are plenty of witnesses who’ll be happy to mention that the Opir attacked the girl first.”

  “If I’d witnessed such an attack, I would have interfered immediately.” He cocked his head. “I can hardly fathom the change in you. Except for those few moments in the alley, no one would mistake you for a former serf. And I’ve heard you did more than thrive in the wilderness after your escape.”

  “What have you been doing since you were cast out of Erebus?” Daniel asked. “Visiting other Citadels? Vikos, perhaps?”

  “What do you imply, Daniel? That I might be a spy?”

  “I know you have no interest in the ideals of this city.”

  “Ah, yes. The ideals, as expressed so recently in the alley.” He showed the tips of his teeth. “Have you heard anything more about Ares?”

  “Have you?”

  “I think of him often. What a pity his dreams for Erebus failed, and he was himself cast out.”

  “And survived,” Daniel said.

  “Unfortunately. Why do you think he is in Tanis?”

  “I looked for him in a colony in the West. They told me he’d come here to learn about Tanis.”

  “And you followed him?” Hannibal shook
his head. “You are too late. They determined that he was a spy, and had him killed along with his half-blood bitch.”

  A hard knot formed in Daniel’s throat. “Did you witness their deaths?”

  “Of course.”

  “And I am supposed to believe you?”

  “Believe or not, as you choose. Your decision will not affect my plan to destroy you.”

  “I’m honored to be ranked so high among your priorities,” Daniel said with a mocking bow. “Why?”

  “Because Ares valued you, and you believe yourself to be the equal of your Opir masters. Since I didn’t have the pleasure of directly taking his life, I will have yours.”

  “Ares won’t be here to see your revenge.”

  “It will amuse me, nevertheless.”

  A kind of numbness settled the tension in Daniel’s body. “Did you send the water to me at the Games?” he asked.

  “Why? Is that significant?”

  “It was poisoned. That’s an easy and cowardly method of killing.”

  “But most unsatisfying. Perhaps you have more than one enemy here, Daniel.”

  “Maybe it would ‘amuse’ you to tell me who they are.”

  “Oh, no. Just as I didn’t tell them that you lied about being from Vikos, or about what you are. That would be too easy. I don’t need to expose your dishonesty to make them believe that you are leading human troublemakers to undermine Tanis, and that Isis is fully engaged in encouraging them to flout the law.”

  “Even if you could convince them of the first,” Daniel said, “Isis is one of the Nine. They won’t take your word over hers.”

  “Are you so sure?”

  Daniel moved as fast as his Opir blood allowed, fast enough to take Hannibal by surprise. He grabbed the Nightsider by the throat and squeezed.

  “If you do anything to threaten her, I’ll kill you,” he said.

  Hannibal jerked free. “You think you can protect her?” he asked, rubbing his throat. “She cannot even protect you. I could report that you attacked me, and you would be thrown out of the city with nothing but—”