by M. J. Scott
I clamped my mouth closed. I couldn’t afford to taste it. Not now. I didn’t know if Ricco’s blood would have the same effect on me as Lucius’, but I couldn’t take that gamble. But the smell . . . blood roared in my ears and my vision fogged. The room seemed silent beyond that pounding heartbeat, the Blood frozen in place, variously staring at Ricco’s corpse and me and Lucius. Some of them looked dismayed, some delighted. Ignatius Grey, in particular, was smiling broadly.
Was he the one who’d planted the idea of a challenge in Ricco’s head? It seemed his sort of scheme.
“Somebody take that away.” Lucius gestured toward Ricco’s headless corpse. “Burn it.” Trusted appeared from nowhere. Three of them lifted the body and another grasped the head by the long white hair, now striped red. The Trusted gulped once, looked slightly green as blood dripped from the stump of the neck and splattered onto his shoes, then hurried after the other three. Everyone watched them leave in silence.
I could feel the blood sliding slowly down my cheek and wanted desperately to wipe it off but stayed still, keeping my attention on Lucius.
His gaze returned to me. “We appear to have settled that for now, my shadow,” he said. He turned his attention to the rest of the Court. “Anyone else?”
Silence.
“Very well.” He pushed himself to his feet. I fought the urge to shrink back as he came toward me. “Now, shadow, we have business at Halcyon.”
There didn’t seem to be any reply I could make. So I merely inclined my head, then followed him from the hall, pausing only to reach out and take a handkerchief from the coat pocket of one of the Blood as we passed.
Thirty dead.
I scrubbed my face, trying to force myself awake, dunking water over my head as though it could wash me clean. No such luck. The day had turned into one long nightmare. I’d helped carry the bodies into the hospital, helped check each of them for any signs of life.
Started the long and tedious process of identifying each of them so that families could be told.
Thirty dead.
The words wouldn’t leave my head. Thirty dead. My fault. I was the one who’d taken Lily from Halcyon.
And my fault because, even though she’d walked away, even through the horrors of the day, it was Lily my thoughts kept returning to.
Lily who drove the grief and anger churning my stomach. Lily, and my failed vision of bringing Lucius to his knees. There was nothing left of that hope now, just as there was nothing left of whatever fragile bond Lily and I had been building. Had any part of it had been real? Had she just been biding her time, waiting to get away?
I might never know.
I rubbed my damp hands against my trousers, trying again to remove the feel of cooling flesh. I hated touching the dead. No life. No warmth. They filled me with a chill that even the sun was unable to chase away.
The Blood have that same chill. Lily had lived with it her whole life. Was living with it again, presumably.
Just as I was living with the reality of what I’d done and the not so concealed expressions of blame on the faces of some of my fellow healers. None of the Fae had spoken the words, but they didn’t need to. The accusation in their eyes and the too-polite tones as they worked beside me, Chrysanthe and Oleander and Bard and the others, made their feelings clear enough.
No more than I deserved.
Gods. My head ached and my eyes burned. I sank into the chair by my desk and rested my head in my hands, wishing desperately that I could heal myself. Or stun myself senseless. Or do anything even remotely useful.
“Simon?”
I didn’t look up. “If you’ve come to tell me I fucked up, don’t bother.” I didn’t need a lecture from Guy on top of everything else. One of us would end up bruised if he tried. In my current mood, it was likely to be him.
“I came to see if you’re all right.”
I lifted my head, blinking against the gritty ache in my eyes. “I’ve spent all day with dead bodies. How do you think I am?”
Guy shrugged. He leaned against the doorframe, looking rumpled and dusty. The Templars had taken on the task of carrying messages to the families we had identified so far. And trying to keep the human boroughs from spilling into violence as word of what had passed at St. Giles spread rapidly.
“Pissed off. Feeling guilty. Quite possibly planning something stupid like trying to get her back.”
I shook my head. “No.” Not exactly the truth. I had considered going after Lily for a few dark minutes, but I wasn’t suicidal. Not quite. “No, I won’t be going after her.”
His scarred eyebrow lifted. “Really?”
“Yes. She made her choice.”
“Good.” He brushed some of the dust off his clothes, then crossed the room to sit opposite me, slumping from his normal military bearing. The chains of treaty law must have weighed heavy, just now. I was sure he’d rather be in the Night World boroughs, hunting down Lucius and the Beasts.
“I am still going to talk to the Fae, though.”
“Will it do any good?”
“I don’t know.” I doubted it. The Veiled Queen might take the word of Lucius’ shadow as evidence against him, but mine? With no other proof, even if she believed me, she wouldn’t act. Still, I had to try.
“I’ll tell Father Cho. He’ll be able to organize a meeting with the Speaker. Though after this afternoon, I imagine you don’t need us to be granted an audience.”
Probably not. But going through the Templars might be more discreet. I still had a slim chance of bringing my plan off. So I needed to try not to fuck that up too.
There were stares as we walked through Halcyon. Lucius usually drew attention, but tonight the eyes were on me. I had used the handkerchief to clean my face and hands as best I could without water, but blood still stained my hands and stuck to my face, drying into crusty flakes.
At least the smell was less prominent when it dried. But even if I’d gotten the worst of the spatter off my skin, there was still a heavy spray across my clothing. Red does show against black, especially as it dries. The humans in the gathered crowd might not realize exactly what it was, but every Blood and Beast in the place would be all too aware.
I followed Lucius automatically, part of my brain still numbed by what I’d done. Back in the Court just a few hours and already I’d killed. I didn’t know if I could do it over and over again. I used to be able to mostly lock it away from my mind, but something was different. I kept seeing the look of shock on Ricco’s face and hearing the thump of his head hitting the floor over and over again.
And beyond my disgust was something more disturbing still. The aching fire of the need, called back to life full force by the scent of vampire blood.
What did that make me?
How could I fight it?
One thing was clear through the roil of emotions. If I was to stay here, until I could come up with a way to get away from Lucius and the City and this gods-damned hellhole, then something needed to be different. Some things had to be on my terms or by the time I got away, I might no longer be anyone I recognized or anyone I wanted to be.
We ascended to the stairs to Lucius’ suite. The part of me not sickly numb was all too aware of what had happened the last time he’d brought me here. But tonight, if he tried violence, I would fight back. After all, I had nothing to lose.
The door closed behind us, deadening the sounds of the Assembly, and we were alone. I stayed near to the door, breathing shallowly. Lucius’ scent surrounded me, fanning the need to an evermore piercing heat. I didn’t know how much longer I would be able to hold it off. How long would it be before I begged Lucius for relief? Despite everything I resolved, would the addiction win?
“Come closer.” Lucius stood by his desk, curiously still, white hair gleaming in the gaslight. For a moment, his pose reminded me of Atherton.
And I remembered the other vampire’s words as I moved in obedience to Lucius’ command. Something changes in their blood and it can becom
e irresistible if one is not careful.
The Blood could suffer from their own version of the need. Lucius had only drunk from me once, but maybe once was enough. I did not flatter myself that I was irresistible, but this was to do with blood. I had been drinking from Lucius for nearly fifteen years. Far longer than any blood-locked human could survive. If anyone’s blood should be tempting to Lucius, it should be mine. He might hunger for me. Hunger I might just be able to use.
Of course, the stakes of the game would be very high. My life.
But I’d been risking my life in the Court for as long as I could remember. Nothing was different now but me.
I could choose to play or not.
Chapter Eighteen
Lucius moved finally, resting his weight on the edge of the desk. The rubies flashed at me as I kept my gaze on his hands, worried that too many of my thoughts could be read on my face if I met his gaze.
“So, shadow, you have returned to me.”
“Yes, my Lord.” I had to look at him to reply.
“And you are unhurt?”
I felt my brows lift in surprise. Lucius had never been overly solicitous of my well-being. “Yes, my Lord.”
This time it was he who raised an eyebrow. “The Templars did not try to . . . persuade you to anything?”
“They didn’t use violence. I think they were hopeful of convincing me to help them without force. I wasn’t there long enough for them to change their minds.”
“And what do you think it was that they wished to convince you to do, exactly?”
“Your attempt on the sunmage angered them,” I said carefully, trying to calculate the line between truth and lie and credibility. “I think they were planning some sort of revenge. They wanted details of the work I do for you.”
“What did you tell them?”
“As little as possible. They knew who I was, of course, and I think the Templars would have liked to get more out of me, but the sunmage is a typical healer. Softhearted. He has no stomach for violence.” I tried to make my tone dismissive, scornful even. “His brother is far more dangerous from what I saw. He was the one who questioned me.” Did that sound plausible? Guy was the Templar, after all.
Lucius’ expression was unchanging. I watched him, head and heart aching even as my body burned. I had no way of knowing whether he believed me. No way to know what he would ask or do next.
“But you spent time with the sunmage?”
I tensed. Was he asking or did he know? If he knew, then he did indeed have a spy somewhere in St. Giles. Of course, he could be merely working from information provided by the Beasts who had seen me with Simon. “Yes, they used him at night to hold me. Him and others. They prattled on endlessly about redemption.” I risked the lie. Unless Lucius’ spy was actually in the Brother House, he would have no way of knowing what had happened there. The thought of a Night World spy infiltrating the Templars seemed farfetched. Much more likely it was someone in St. Giles. But who?
If I could find that out and somehow get the information to Simon, then I would have done something worthwhile at least. But I would have to tread carefully. My job now was to quell any doubts in Lucius’ mind about me. Ricco’s death had hopefully done part of the job, but I knew it would take time before Lucius would trust me like he had before.
“I can see why you wanted him dead,” I added. “All that piety is irritating.”
“Is that so?”
Had I pushed too far with my lies? Well, then I had to brazen it out. “Yes, my Lord. I am sorry I could not kill him for you.”
“Would you try again if I sent you?”
My heart stuttered for a moment. Then, “Yes, my Lord.” I would try. Though, if it came to that, I would make sure to fail. “Though he is well guarded now. And his brother would look to you were anything to happen.”
Did Lucius have the sense to wait for a time, let things settle before he renewed his campaign against Simon? I hoped so. Time would give me breathing space to determine a strategy.
“His guards are not your concern.”
I nodded once, feigning assent to this statement. My face felt stiff, partly because of the dried blood glued to my skin. “I would like to wash, my Lord.”
He frowned.
“I do not like the stink of Ricco’s blood. It offends me.” I hoped to imply that perhaps it was Lucius’ blood that I wanted to smell instead.
Lucius smiled. “You did me a service, killing him. He had grown too ambitious.”
If I’d been asked to pick amongst the Court, I would have named Ignatius a greater danger than Ricco. He had the brains to go with the ambition. But I wasn’t going to offer Lucius political advice. “I am always happy to be of service, my Lord.”
“Is that so?” He moved then, fast as always, until he stood mere inches from me. This close, his scent stole my concentration, made the need rage in my brain and through my body. I closed my eyes, trying to fight it.
“Do you hunger, shadow?”
Yes. I bit my lip to stop myself from saying the word. I wanted the blood but . . . only last night Simon had been in my bed. It was too soon. Surely I could resist for one more day? But then, “Yes,” I said, unable to stop myself. I kept my eyes closed, I didn’t want to see his face. Didn’t want to see him gloat.
There was a touch, soft as a spider drifting across my cheek, where I was bruised from Ricco’s blow. My skin quivered and revulsion and lust curdled in my stomach.
“I have missed you, my shadow.” There was hunger in his voice. Unmistakable hunger. I didn’t need to open my eyes to know. He wanted me. Wanted my blood.
Think.
I tried to gather my will, but it was like pushing through fog. No way to gain purchase with the scent of Lucius surrounding me, making my senses sway and reel. “My Lord?” was all I managed to say.
“Look at me.”
I opened my eyes, lifted my head, all too aware that doing so bared my throat. I wondered if my heartbeat was as loud to him as it seemed to me.
Lucius was smiling. “So eager?” Another spider-soft touch, this time drifting his fingers across the place in my neck where the pulse beat. “I am glad to see it.”
He stepped back then, expression changing rapidly to rigid restraint. “But I have business tonight, my shadow. I must speak with the Beasts.”
A reprieve. My knees went loose and I had to lock them to stay standing. With a little space between us, my selfcontrol reasserted itself in a small way and I could think again. What business was so important that he would put off what he so obviously wanted? What was he plotting with the Beasts? Could his spy be a Beast?
Unlikely. I hadn’t seen any Beasts working at St. Giles and they didn’t have the magic to avoid the wards set around Simon’s patients. So, what role were the Beasts playing here? Was Lucius planning another attempt on Simon? The thought turned me to ice.
Lucius seated himself behind his desk, lifting a pile of correspondence from a black lacquered tray. Apparently he was done with me.
“Do you have further need of me?” I asked.
His eyes met mine with what felt like a physical blow. “Tonight, you may occupy yourself downstairs,” he said.
“Try not to kill any other members of my Court.” He lifted the uppermost envelope on the pile and turned it over to view the seal, lifting a nastily sharp-looking dagger from his desk to slit it open.
I bowed slightly, lowering my eyes. As I did so, the next envelope in the stack caught my attention. It glimmered slightly, eerie green-gold. The Fae sealed their messages with wards. Who was sending Lucius sealed letters?
Those Fae who dealt with the Night World tended to meet with Lucius in person and in groups. Nothing committed to paper. Then again, I had never before paid much attention to Lucius’ business, so perhaps I was wrong.
Or perhaps this was from the spy. Could they be Fae? It seemed absurd, but the wardlight was there in front of me, proof that a Fae had written, or at least sealed, that envelope
. I wanted to grab the letter and vanish but resisted that suicidal impulse. Instead, I straightened, not wanting him to see my attention. There was nothing on the face of the envelope other than Lucius’ title and name in elaborate script. The writing struck me as female but offered no other clue.
“Night keep you, then, my Lord,” I said.
He nodded. I turned to leave.
“Tomorrow night, my shadow.” His voice came just as I reached the door.
My hand stilled on the heavy metal handle. I turned back. “My Lord?”
For a moment his eyes seemed to glow red. “Tomorrow night, we shall deal with these hungers, you and I. You will come to me.”
Soap stung my eyes as I scrubbed the blood from my face. If only it were so easy to scrub Lucius’ last words from my mind. Tomorrow night. That was when I would truly rejoin him. When I would drink his blood to ease the ache in my body and, most likely, he would drink mine unless I had misunderstood him. In truth, I didn’t know if I even cared anymore. I felt several lifetimes older than this morning, my mind battered and bruised by everything the passing hours had wrought.
I splashed clean water on my face and wiped my eyes, trying to believe it was only the soap that made them sting. My reflection stared back at me, pale and exhausted, as white as one of the Blood. Very different from the happy face I’d seen when I’d bathed at the Brother House. I didn’t even feel like the same person. I didn’t know what I felt like.
But I had made my choice. To end the bloodshed and return here to this place that was all I had ever known before Simon had blazed into my life. Surely it couldn’t be so hard to be as I had once been? I had survived in this world for a long time. Surely I couldn’t have lost the knack for it in a few short days?
My mouth curved grimly. The knack perhaps I still had. But whether I still had the stomach for such a life was less certain.
My fingers twisted the towel into a knot. My life for many. My choice. But had it been the right one? Would Simon survive, would he be able to stop Lucius? Lady, let it be so. I stilled suddenly, remembering the glowing letter. What secrets did it hold? Something that might help the humans? If they succeeded, there might be some slim chance for me to escape from Lucius once more. A greater chance than any plan I had been able to devise of getting free of Lucius while he yet lived.