by A. D. Winter
“Blood is already on my hands,” he shot back. “And I owe it to you.”
I watched as he disappeared over the side of the roof, his long blond hair flailing in the wind as he made his way down the stairs.
When he was gone, I looked back at Crag. But by then the writing was on the wall.
“I take it you’re leaving as well,” I said.
“I’m sorry, my dear.” Crag wrapped an arm around the young princess’s shoulders and pulled her into him. “But we must decline your invitation. The Laurents have been avenged, and now I must do what’s best for Sophie.”
“The vampires will come back,” I warned. “How long do you think you’ll be able to keep her safe before they come looking for you?”
“Long enough to be ready.” He slung his hammer over his shoulder and tightened his grip around the handle.
“I hope you’re right,” I said.
“I, as well,” he replied.
I held out the ax for him to take.
“Keep it,” he told me. “It might prove useful on your mission.”
“But I thought it was precious to you, a priceless heirloom that your great-grandfather used to defeat the orcs at the Battle of Crispon.”
He gave a coy smile. “Actually, it was a prize my drunk uncle won in a card game. Never really used it for much, perhaps only to hold open a door from time to time.”
“Great,” I said.
He had started to pull away when Sophie did the unexpected. She looked back at me and inclined her head.
I nearly fainted.
The young princess hadn’t shown me an ounce of respect since we’d started. The fact that she was doing it now threw me for a loop. Awkwardly I bowed my head. But it still didn’t feel right. So I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“There’s a place in the central district,” I said. “It’s called Lady’s Delight. It’s the best place for waxing in all of Salvation.”
Sophie let out a weak smile. “I’ll remember that.” And she left.
I watched as the princess set off with Crag. They climbed over the edge of the roof and descended the stairway, leaving me with the noise of the busy street.
In a way, I was glad they were gone.
I’d already put them through so much danger; it wasn’t fair to ask them for more.
I rubbed my shoulders against the cold, waiting to be comforted by the feeling of solitude. But it never came.
I was alone.
32
Barton
The anger coursing through Barton’s veins was nearly combustible. He crouched by one of the toppled conveyor belts and touched the deep shadow beneath his feet. It was only one of many, and they scarred the factory floor like a deranged piece of art, a mosaic designed in fury.
Ivy had definitely been here.
“My lord,” Luis said, handing him a cup of coffee. “We’ve secured the scene and are collecting evidence.”
“What of the witness?” Barton replied, keeping his focus on the shadow.
“The goblin knows nothing.”
Barton straightened as he turned around to face his young inquisitor. “But?”
“The goblin’s description of the assailant definitely matches Ivy.”
“I could’ve told you that.” Barton brushed past the inquisitor, ignoring the coffee. “What I need to know is where she went. Did he say anything about that?”
Luis cleared his throat as he nervously thumbed through his notes. “Not exactly, but there were some details that—”
“Details …” Barton’s gaze wandered to the crate of empty bottles sitting on a nearby shelf. There were so many. He picked one up and threw it across the factory, shattering it against the wall.
The inquisitors stopped and stared, stunned by the disruption. “I don’t need details,” Barton growled. “I need answers. As in, where is Ivy going?”
“I assure you, my lord, we’re trying as hard as we can.”
“Well, try harder!” Barton shoved another crate of bottles out of the way as he stormed off. Or my anger won’t be the only thing you’ll have to fear.
Luis could do nothing as the lord sergeant disappeared into the hallway. This quest to find Ivy was becoming an obsession for him. In fact, he’d never seen Barton so wound up before.
In all honesty, he wasn’t sure whether the man was in the right frame of mind or whether, at any second, he would ask Luis to do something he wouldn’t feel right about doing.
It didn’t matter though. He was knee-deep in this investigation, and he would do whatever needed to be done to finish it.
Wandering about the factory, he glanced over the shoulders of the inquisitors. They were collecting evidence and taking photographs of the shadows that lay sprawled about the factory.
He hadn’t gone far when he happened on a piece of a dress.
Picking it up from the floor, he narrowed his eyes at the patch of fur stuck to the edge. According to the factory workers, there had only been a dwarf and a pair of chosen. Nothing about a female in a dress.
Luis narrowed his eyes at the fur. As he returned to his notes, he was interrupted by one of the younger initiates.
“Inquisitor Luis?”
“What is it?” Luis asked, his turn to be the frustrated superior.
The initiate swallowed. “There is a group of orcs and chosen who say they spoke to one of the suspects.”
Luis dismissed him with a wave. “Herd them with the others. We’ll question them in due time.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but you don’t understand. The workers … they say they have something for you.”
33
Ivy
I watched, alone, from the top of a nearby building as the bells of the Tower began to chime.
It had been exactly twenty-four hours since Barton signed the order for my excommunication, and now the worst had come.
Soon I’d be arrested, sentenced, and most likely executed.
But strangely, I didn’t care.
The safety of the city was distracting me from my own worries, and with my death imminent, there was nothing left to hold me back.
I was a woman on a one-way trip to destruction, and I was going to make sure I took the Monarch with me.
I watched as the crème de la crème of Salvation’s elite began to arrive at the central building.
All of the quarters were represented in equal measure, displaying the culture and traditions that they’d brought with them from the old world.
The elves from Nouvelle Lumière arrived in a line of golden carriages drawn by a team of golden-brown Ardennais, whose shiny manes were adorned with bright red bows.
From Hispala came the shipping magnates of the east. They drew the crowd’s attention with their white Andalusians and golden-armored guards.
The Anglians—ever the progressives among the fae—appeared in their steampunk vehicles. Large and sleek, with exhaust pipes sticking out of every side. They reminded me of the motor vehicles in the human world, only they were not as sleek or as comfortable.
Next came the Zuwada. Men and women colorfully dressed in vibrant robes, they rose the brows of the crowd as they arrived proudly on the backs of roaring gryphons—those ferocious creatures whose dangerous temperaments could only be tamed by the calm souls of the shamans.
Behind them marched the black-uniformed guards of Dunkler Ward. The stern-faced guards of the baron followed him closely as he led them on his Hanoverian steed, his chin held high, his gaze steady.
From the sky came the Qin. They swooped down on the back of one of their great dragons, nearly flattening the crowd as it landed in the street. I looked for my master, excited to see him. But he was nowhere to be seen. I sighed.
After them came the grim-faced emissaries from Dukh Scorbi. Thickly bearded men with black hair and Cossack hats, they wore red-and-green uniforms, while the women had donned beautiful white gowns. The combination was magnificent.
Finally, the procession
ended with the arrival of the black stallions from Sahil Jamil. Men and women draped in fine silks and earthy tones. They bowed their heads to the crowd as they descended from their steeds, gracing the onlookers with their manners.
It was an amazing sight.
The crowd stood shoulder to shoulder as they watched from the security railings erected by the Council Guards.
It was one of the most important nights of the year. And while there hadn’t been an attack or demonstration in decades, I was sure that the Council wasn’t going to take any risks.
And that was the problem.
I needed to get into the celebration.
But without an invitation, it was going to be impossible.
I narrowed my eyes at the Council Guards. They were wearing golden armor and holding long spears. It was said that they were the best fighters in Salvation.
I gave a derisive snort.
“The best fighters are the ones who fight,” Barton had always said. “Inquisitors who walk the streets and get into scraps with criminals with nothing to lose.”
These guys were just showpieces.
I’d throw my lot in with a starving initiate who had something to prove any day.
I studied the one at the end. He was young, with dark hair and watchful eyes. He turned his head as if he’d heard something, then shifted his gaze to the roof where I was watching him. I quickly ducked.
Had he seen me?
No. Not possible.
Not from that distance.
Slowly I peeked over the edge once more and saw that he was looking away.
Whew, that was a close one.
My heart raced as I saw a pair of black carriages arriving at the base of the building’s entrance. The doors flew open, and a stream of hooded figures appeared. They strode up the stairs in a group of black silk robes, never lifting their heads until they were stopped by the security guards at the entrance.
I was just about to turn around when one of the hooded figures pulled back the front of his hood.
It was one of the vampires from the factory. Yet his red eyes had been masked somehow. And his pale skin was now tanned, giving him the youthful glow of a chosen who’d spent his afternoons lying out in the sun. I looked for the other warlock. But with their hoods, I couldn’t tell them apart.
“Bloodsuckers,” I whispered through clenched teeth.
I spun around as I heard a noise behind me. It came from somewhere close by. Shutting my eyes, I sensed my surroundings.
There. Behind the chimney.
I ducked as a dagger came for my face. It plunged into the wall behind me, slashing off some of my hair.
I spun back around, infuriated beyond belief. “Do you know how long it’s taken me to grow my hair this long?” I narrowed my eyes at the darkness, waiting for my enemy to show their face.
The guardsman appeared under the glare of the moonlight. It was the same one I’d seen by the crowd, the one whose gaze had shifted to me. So he had seen me.
Rats!
I took a step back, preparing for a fight. But with my weapon a couple of feet behind me and no armor, it was going to be a tough match.
“You shouldn’t be here.” The guard’s voice was deep, and his spear glinted under the flare of fireworks exploding in the sky. “What’s your business here?”
I shrugged. “I just wanted to see the festivities.”
“And you couldn’t afford a ticket?”
“What can I say? Times are kind of hard right now.”
“I’m sure.” He studied me for a moment, his eyes narrowing at the battle-ax leaning against the wall. “And what’s that for?”
I glanced at the weapon and feigned a look of surprise. “Oh, wow, I never noticed that before. Someone must’ve left it there. Probably one of the chimney sweeps.”
“A chimney sweep?”
“It’s a tough job, I hear.”
He fell into an attack stance and aimed his spear at me. “Get on your knees, criminal.”
“Whoa,” I said, warning him back with a hand. “Let’s just take it easy, okay?”
“Get away from the ax,” he ordered.
“Sure,” I said, inching closer to the weapon.
“I’m warning you,” he said. “Don’t move any closer.”
“Okay,” I said, and dived for my weapon.
“Then prepare for death.” He shot out at me with frightening quickness, and I was barely able to grip my ax before he thrust his spear at me.
The blade plunged into the wall behind me as I leaped over him in a somersault, and in one quick move, I spun around to face him. “How ’bout giving me a chance to explain?”
“You’re here illegally,” he said. “That’s all I need to know. Disarm yourself and submit to arrest.”
“You submit to arrest.”
“What?”
I kicked a pebble at his face, then flew at him with all my speed. He might’ve been formally trained by masters at the Temple of Light, but I doubted he’d ever had to brawl with hoodlums in the Forgotten Quarter.
He stumbled back, squinting as the pebble hit him in the face, and I used the moment to press my attack. I shoved him against one of the chimneys and pinned him with my forearm, using my strength to hold him in place. “I’m not a criminal,” I told him. “I’m trying to help.”
“Then why are you carrying a weapon?”
“Because,” I said, “the thorns are here, and they’re going to do something.”
“What?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
He tried to push me back, but I held firm, relying on the strength of my spirit to keep him in place. “How do I know you’re not one of them?”
“Do I look like a vampire to you?”
His brow furrowed as he studied me, his gaze lingering a bit too long on my lips.
“Okay,” I said, returning the pressure against his neck. “You’ve studied me long enough.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because I’m an inquisitor.” I eased the pressure on his neck.
“You are?”
“Kind of. Maybe. Not really. Okay, no.”
He frowned. “Are you crazy or something?”
“Yeah,” I said, returning the pressure to his throat. “And I’m seconds away from losing it. So are you going to help me or not?”
He took a long breath as he considered my offer, then granted me a nod.
“Good.” I eased my forearm from his neck and stepped away. “I’ll need to speak to one of your superiors. A fae if you can manage it.”
“Sure.” He rubbed his throat as he nodded. “Wow, you’re pretty strong.”
“I do okay,” I said.
“I can see that,” he replied. “But there’s only one problem.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. He was stalling. And even though I knew what was coming, even though I knew what he was going to do, he was so darn fast that I didn’t even have time to defend myself.
I gasped as he kneed me in the stomach, then fell back as he roundhoused me across the face. I flew through the air, able to land on my feet at the last second.
“Okay,” I said, rubbing the bruise on my face. “No more Mr. Nice Guy.”
He charged at me with a side kick. The technique was perfect. And if he were being graded by a master in a wu guan, he would’ve received a perfect score. But we weren’t in a training facility; we were in the street, and here, I was the master.
I nailed him in the face with the flat end of my ax, punched him in the throat, then tripped him at the ankles. He fell to the ground in a daze, rolling over as he clutched his throat. He tried to get up, but I kicked him in the stomach, then rolled him over with the bottom of my boot. “Sorry, but it’s time to go to sleep now.”
“We’ll catch you,” he said with a mouth full of blood. “You won’t make it out of here alive.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “As long as I t
ake those bloodsuckers with me.” I punched him in the face, and his eyes rolled back in his head.
I wasn’t going to kill him. He was a guardsman, for Danu’s sake—maybe a bit too anxious to kill, but then again, so was I.
I raced back to the edge of the building and returned my focus to the parade. How was I going to get in? How was I going to bypass all of the other guardsmen, especially when they noticed that one of their own was missing?
I looked and looked, trying to find some sort of angle. But it was all dignitaries and businessmen, groups of people who were all dressed the same.
But then I saw it.
A heavyset merchant waddling down the street with a harem of beautiful women at his side. They were dressed in sexy outfits. Tight dresses and leather skirts. Stiletto heels with diamonds on the straps. All done up to the nines, with amazing haircuts and makeup.
I glanced down at my stained NIN T-shirt and frowned. If I expected to join their group, I was going to have to make some serious wardrobe changes.
Argh, if only Crag were here.
I was just about to pull my hair out when I heard something.
The young guardsmen was groaning from the pain. He tried to sit up, but I quickly punched him in the face, knocking him out for the final time.
I stood above him, admiring the white satin cape lying beneath him, and smiled as I formulated a plan.
34
Ivy
I hurried through the flood of guests toward the harem of women.
I was just in time too.
They were already at the top of the stairs, being checked in by a pair of guardsmen who looked overly suspicious.
I shoved one of the women aside, a tall blond hanging on the merchant’s arm, and took her place. She frowned at me in confusion, but I let out a growl, and she quickly retreated to join the girls in the back.
I tugged the neckline of my white top. It was made out of the guardsman’s silk cape—a delicate material that matched nicely with my black leather pants—and I’d lifted my hair above my head, revealing my svelte neck. Finally, I’d pulled the entire outfit together with a silk band that I’d wrapped around my hips, making me look chic and sexy.