by Morgan Hawke
Rafael raised his chin. “Welcome, senators. I thank you for your attendance.” He swept his robes to the side and took a seat behind the broad table.
Antonius raised his fist. “This court is now in session!”
The brass doors clanged shut.
The people in the tiers sat in their chairs and began to whisper.
Rafael raised his chin. “Ladies and gentlemen of the senate…” he held his hand out to the side, “tonight I have acquired that which will end this plague that has been of much concern to us.”
A guard set a small box with a paper seal in Rafael’s palm, bowed, and stepped back.
Rafael tore off the paper seal and opened the box.
A deep, sonorous bong echoed throughout the chamber.
The chamber echoed with waves of startled voices.
“This was intercepted en route from the plague beast.” Rafael held up a finger-length glass vial containing a brilliant violet-blue liquid. He smiled. “After close examination, it has been concluded that this is the source of the infection of our cities and our towns.”
Thorn’s heart slammed in her chest. She knew that vial. It was her delivery that had been intercepted.
“Count Feodor Yaroslav Iziaslavich…” Rafael tilted his head toward Yaroslav, “our most experienced magus, has already begun decoding the contents to create an end for this plague of the poisonous dead.”
Yaroslav bowed to the gathering.
A senator stood. “Then you have succeeded in capturing the plague beast?” The voice was deep and melodious. The senator pushed back his hood, revealing Belus’s striking face, but all trace of humanity had been stripped away. His blue eyes were round and slitted, and his hair was no longer black curls but a straight fall of long, slender feathers. The tip of a long scaled snake’s tail of gleaming black writhed at the hem of his robes. His gaze focused on Thorn.
Thorn’s breath stopped. Was the senator trying to say she was the plague beast?
Rafael shook his head. “We have not, Senator Belus. We have merely acquired his delivery before it reached its intended destination.”
Thorn released her breath. Thank you, Prince Rafael.
Senator Belus’s gaze shifted focus to the prince. “But the plague beast is known to be a werewolf, is it not, such as the one beside you?”
Loud whispers broke out.
Rafael nodded. “Yes, the plague beast is known to be a werewolf. I believe Master Antonius can give you more information, as he and his men met the creature during his most recent campaign.”
Antonius stepped forward. “My men and I encountered the beast when we collected Count Iziaslavich. Unlike the count’s small companion…” he nodded toward Thorn, “the plague beast is a large and poorly made, red-furred man creature of deformed proportions.”
Thorn scowled. Why did everyone think she was small?
Antonius lifted his chin and glanced around the room. “We strongly suspect the beast was manufactured by the same heretic who created the plague.”
Senator Belus nodded. “I see. However, is not the creation of any werewolf, even one such as the count’s companion, forbidden?”
Yaroslav stiffened against Thorn’s side, and the black oil of his angry thoughts spilled into her. Foul serpent….
Rafael raised his hand. “Correct.” He smiled, with just a hint of his fangs showing. “Unlike the count, who has gained sanction for his personal companion, the maker of the plague beast has indeed committed a crime.”
“Of course.” Senator Belus bowed and sat back down.
Thorn wasn’t sure if she should be happy the prince had defended her or pissed he’d just announced to the world in general that she was the count’s mistress.
Another senator rose. His eyes blazed like two gold stars in a face that gleamed like gold metal. Long, straight black hair spilled to his waist from under his scarlet hood. “With the source for this plague in hand, have you uncovered the identity of the heretic sorcerer who created it?”
Whispers fell to total silence.
Rafael shook his head. “We have his signature, Senator Ashur. However, it is one unrecognized.”
Whispers spilled and became shouts.
“How could you not recognize the signature?”
“A signature cannot be disguised!”
“Impossible!”
“A magus cannot change the nature of his power!”
Rafael raised his chin. “We have come to the conclusion that this heretic is not among our peers but is a complete unknown.”
Another senator rose. “Are you saying a magus came into power outside our knowledge?”
Several other senators rose and voiced similar concerns.
Rafael raised his hand and waited for the voices to die down. “Senators, I am saying this heretic is not recognized as one of us. We will not know how this heretic came into power unrecognized, or gained the knowledge of this plague’s creation, until he is found and questioned.”
Yaroslav tugged at Thorn’s sleeve. “Come.”
Thorn turned and was led to a cushioned bench set against the alcove wall. Seated next to Yaroslav, she could still see the proceedings, but she was no longer under the direct eye of the senators.
More questions were fired, concerning magi capable of magic outside anybody’s knowledge and what to do about them.
Rafael’s replies remained calm and factual.
The senators calmed, and their questions turned to political control issues of countries and cities Thorn couldn’t make heads or tails of.
After a while, Thorn sagged against Yaroslav’s side. “I’m a little surprised everybody is speaking English.”
Yaroslav chuckled. “They are not. The room is enchanted so that all might speak in their native tongue yet be understood by all others.”
Thorn’s mouth fell open. “It’s magic?”
Yaroslav smiled. “Magic is capable of many things. Some of it is even practical.”
Thorn blinked up at him. “Oh….” A yawn came out of nowhere. She raised her hand to cover her mouth. “Oh, sorry. I guess I’m still tired.”
“After all that has happened, this is quite understandable.” Yaroslav set his arm about her shoulders and pulled her close. “You may rest, if you like. The senate will consist of little more than semantic bickering for quite some time.” He smiled. “I will wake you, should there be a need.”
Thorn nodded. She wasn’t in the mood to argue. She was so tired, her eyes were already closing. She slid down onto Yaroslav’s lap and rested her cheek on his thigh, curling up across the bench. He was warm and smelled comfortingly familiar.
The vampire pulled his black robe up over her like a blanket and swept a hand through her hair. “Be at ease. I will watch over you. Your duties are done.”
Her duties were done? Thorn felt a chuckle bubble up but was too tired to release it. Oh, she was done, all right. Her last delivery had been intercepted. Hackett wouldn’t like it, but that was one of the hazards of courier work. He’d just have to live with it. All that was left was the long journey home and then…freedom, at last.
Her heart twisted in her chest. She didn’t want to get back on that ship. She didn’t want to go back to being treated like an unwanted but occasionally useful tool. No matter how many secrets the vampires had, and how strange the world had become, the vampires had treated her more like a human being than the humans ever had.
And to be completely truthful, she didn’t want to leave Yaroslav behind. He loved her. Her fingers tightened on his thigh. And she loved him, too.
Screw Hackett. She’d stay here and be happy, for once in her life. It wasn’t as though the army could find her in these mountains. In fact, she’d like to see how the army dealt with living fairy tales and walking nightmares. She smiled. Hackett would probably wet his boxers.
She dreamed…of rushing down a dark town street at an insane speed. With her claws, she clung, lying flat, atop the curved roof of a shaking and chugging
steam car. The wind rushed down the collar of her flannel shirt and tugged at her dungarees. They were going too fast.
The vehicle took a sudden turn and violently rocked up on two wheels and then slammed back down on all four.
Slammed hard to the side, Thorn hung on but just barely. Furious, she shouted at the driver. “Slow down, you idiot!”
Unfortunately the driver’s bench was empty. No one was driving the car.
She crawled forward toward the driver’s seat. Someone had to stop the car, or it would crash.
A hand closed on her ankle.
Thorn looked over her shoulder.
Max, completely human in his bowler hat and tinted glasses, stood clinging to the side of the moving car, gripping her by the ankle. The door of the car flapped open against the side. “Your interference is not appreciated.”
Thorn jerked at her ankle. “If we don’t stop the car, it’s going to crash!”
Max smiled, and his teeth became jagged with far too many fangs. “So?” The car slammed over a bump, and Max’s glasses flipped off and away. His yellow beast’s eye blazed bright gold, in stark contrast with his human eye of ordinary brown. “Do you honestly think a crash matters to me?” The bones of his hand stretched, deforming into clawed fingers that were neither wolf nor human.
Thorn jerked harder at her ankle. “Let go!”
“I’m sorry.” Max’s body began to jerk and twitch. “But I just can’t do that.” He stretched and swelled, tearing his clothes. His bowler hat flew off, revealing the points of ears that were wrongly shaped for either a wolf or a human. “We can’t have you running around anymore, can we?”
Thorn dug the claws of her other foot into the rooftop. “Max, if you won’t let me stop the car, I’m getting off!” She kicked out, jerking her trapped ankle. “Let go, you beast!”
“That’s Mr. Beast—I mean, Mr. Rykov, to you!” Max dug his other clawed hand into the roof of the wildly rocking car and started to pull himself up onto the roof. “You’re not stopping this car! You’ll make a fine linguist!”
Thorn snarled, baring lengthening teeth. “Max! You’re not making any sense!”
“Of course not!” He released a peal of high-pitched laughter that dissolved into barks. “I’m not sane, remember?” He lifted his deformed snout, pointing ahead. “Take a look!”
Thorn turned to stare at the broad expanse of the brick factory wall the car was speeding toward. Her heart slammed in her throat. She gasped in a deep breath and called on her wolf. White fire erupted within her in a wild rush. She rose up on four legs. Her suddenly slender ankle slid out of Max’s grasp.
Max screamed. “You’re not leaving!”
She launched straight forward from the top of the car and stretched out into a long flying leap. She landed with ease on the factory roof. She leaped again, soaring toward another rooftop. She didn’t want to be there when the car crashed.
She turned to look and discovered she had somehow managed to reach the top of a snow-covered mountain cliff. Far below at the base of the cliff, the car exploded. A ragged figure lunged out of the flaming wreckage and began to climb the cliff face. An eerie howl echoed all around.
Thorn stared down at the climbing monster, her heart slamming hard in her chest. He was coming for her….
23
Thorn gasped and opened her eyes to shadows. “Max Rykov, a linguist….” She’d forgotten that she knew Max’s last name, what he did, and that he was British—like the Doctor. She sat upright, pushing back the long black coat that covered her. She had to tell Yaroslav and the prince what she’d remembered. She stared at the gold-and-green-velvet-swathed chaise longue she’d been sleeping on and then looked around and blinked. As soon as I figure out where the heck I am.
The room was not particularly large, and was square and white-walled with a high, vaulted ceiling. Her gold cap had been removed and set on a long glass table supported by wrought-iron vines to her right. Her long red coat had been tossed over the back of the chair. Behind the chair, floor-to-ceiling curtains had been pulled nearly closed over a broad window, casting the room in deep shadow, though she had no difficulty seeing anything. Before her was the door.
A deep breath told her that the coat she’d been sleeping under was perfumed with Yaroslav’s scent. He must have carried her there. She frowned briefly. She didn’t remember her sense of smell being this good when she was in human form. She shrugged and shoved the robe all the way off. She’d think about it later. First she needed to find Yaroslav and the prince. Considering the way they had been hovering over her, they couldn’t be far.
She set her slippered feet on the ornate green and gold India carpet that almost entirely covered the polished oak floor. A handful of steps took her to the door. She reached for the crystal doorknob and heard Yaroslav’s voice coming from the other side of the door. He wasn’t speaking English, so she had no idea what he was saying. Then the prince made a quiet comment in the same language.
Thorn smiled and turned the knob. They were right outside. Good. She shoved the door open and was nearly blinded by the bright light. She flinched and threw up a hand to cover her eyes. “I just remembered Max’s last name and…” Her vision cleared.
In a large room nearly wall to wall with crammed bookshelves, the prince sat to her right in a leather chair behind a broad desk. A silver coffee service was perched on the far corner. He looked up, setting down the papers he held in his hands.
Yaroslav sat with one knee over the other in a black velvet wingback chair just on the far side. His eyes went wide, and his jaw tightened.
Before the desk, in a matching wingback chair with a plain white coffee cup in his clawed fingers, sat Senator Belus. The scarlet hood of his robe had fallen back, and the light from the overhead chandelier turned his long mane of slender feathers to midnight blue. Though he sat like a man, a long snake’s tail curled under his chair where his feet would have been. His Cupid’s-bow lips curved upward, and his serpent-slitted blue eyes creased in obvious pleasure. “By all means, continue with what you were saying.”
Thorn’s breath stopped, and her heart gave a painful thump. Oh, shit….
The prince sighed and then chuckled tiredly. “This is Miss Thorn Ferrell, from America. Thorn, this is Senator Belus of Venice.”
Belus rose from the chair with exquisite and completely inhuman grace. He placed his coffee cup on the edge of Rafael’s desk and turned to face her. “Miss Thorn, a pleasure….”
Thorn grabbed her skirts and dropped into a hasty curtsy. She really, really didn’t want him to offer his hand. “Please pardon my intrusion, senator.”
Belus’s smile broadened. “Oh, you are no intrusion at all. I am quite pleased you could join us.”
Thorn rose from her curtsy with a smile pasted on her lips. Yeah, I just bet….
Belus eased back down into his chair and set his chin on a clawed hand. “Now that the pleasantries have passed…” his slender black brow lifted, and his smile sharpened, “why not continue with your little announcement? I’m sure it will prove quite fascinating.”
“Um…” Thorn swallowed and looked over at Yaroslav. She had no idea what to say.
The vampire sat utterly still in his chair, holding his coffee cup.
Rafael leaned back in his chair. “You may as well continue, Thorn. Senator Belus has been rather…persistent on the subject of the plague beast.” He smiled tightly. “The senator may as well assist in this inquiry, as he is unparalleled in his techniques to uncover…secrets.”
Belus blinked and then sighed. “So nice to be appreciated for one’s…talents.”
Yaroslav raised his coffee cup to his lips and didn’t volunteer a single word.
Thorn was absolutely positive the prince was trying to tell her something, but she really had no clue what it was. However, if he wanted the senator to know, then…okay. She shrugged. “Max’s last name is Rykov. He said he was a linguist and part of the British attaché.”
�
�Indeed?” Belus casually retrieved his coffee cup from the edge of Rafael’s desk. “And how did you come to know this…Max Rykov?”
Thorn tucked her hands behind her and lifted her chin. She knew an interrogation question when she heard one. She took a breath to review and organize her facts and then told him in a clipped and precise military manner about her meeting at the train station and what he’d said during the ride to the colonel’s house in his steam car.
Belus’s gaze narrowed. “And how is it that you were both going to the same destination?”
“I’m a courier.” Thorn smiled tightly. “I was making a delivery.”
“Oh?” Belus’s eyes widened, but his claws scraped against the porcelain cup. It was a sound too light for normal human hearing, but Thorn heard it quite clearly. “Is that so?”
Yaroslav cleared his throat. “Thorn is a courier for her United States.”
Thorn’s jaw tightened. “I was. My term of service is over.” Only the tiniest trace of a growl showed in her voice.
Belus smiled, but his gaze had chilled. “And is this how you and the plague came to be here together?”
Thorn lifted her brow. Apparently the senator was determined to make her the plague beast. She bit back a sour smile. Too bad she wasn’t. She turned to the prince. “May I answer him?” Because there wasn’t a darned thing to actually tie her to the Doctor, telling him the whole story with only minor adjustments should satisfy his curiosity.
Thorn…. Yaroslav’s thoughts pressed against her mind. Across the room, his gaze focused on hers. You do not need to explain yourself to this…snake.
Thorn brushed at her skirts and avoided Yaroslav’s gaze. If I don’t tell him something, he’ll only get more suspicious.
“Very well….” Rafael tilted his head, and a slight smile played on his lips. “But be brief.”
Thorn returned Rafael’s slight smile. “Of course.” Rafael was probably curious himself. She doubted he knew any more than what Yaroslav had told him, which couldn’t have been much. She cleared her throat and faced Senator Belus. “After I made my delivery to the colonel, I was asked to deliver another package….” She leaped clean over her personal issues with the colonel and launched straight into her second meeting with Max on the stairs when he’d been partially transformed. She relayed exactly what he’d said and done.