by J. D. Brown
Roman’s copper brown gaze studied mine. “You sliced Lilith’s head off with a sword. One swing, right to left, on a downward angle. Got it?”
I scoffed. “What is this, a trial?”
Roman tilted his chin, and the edge of his mouth teetered.
“Wait, are you serious? I’m being tried?”
“Relax.” He pulled me along the corridor at a faster pace. “It’s not that kind of trial.”
“Then what kind is it?”
Roman didn’t answer. We arrived at the correct room, and he reached for the door. He paused and looked at me one final time. “Try not to look so guilty. No one goes to jail for killing a succubus.”
Good, because I was totally prepared to let Jalmari take the fall if things went in that direction. No way in heck was I giving birth behind bars.
Roman opened the door and waited for me to enter. The large room was dimly lit by two small floor lamps in opposite corners. An oval-shaped conference table lorded over the space, leaving very little room to squeeze through. My shoulders scraped the Victorian wallpaper as I followed Roman around the edges of the waiting congregation, to the head of the oblong table. Once there, I stood facing what I assumed was the Alpan Council.
They sat around the massive table in leather office chairs. I recognized a few faces from the coronation and funeral, though of course my gaze went mainly to Brinnon and his surrounding family. Cecelia, Sara, and Auda were present, along with Tancred. One chair sat empty. I assumed it was Roman’s, but he stayed beside me.
“Raise your right hand,” he said.
My ears felt clogged, my face hot with nerves. I did as Roman asked, and raised my right hand.
“Ema ta Korento, do you swear on the name of your Prince, Jalmari ta Korento, and on the fealty of the Neo-Draugrian crest, to tell the truth of the events that took place leading up to the death of the succubus known as Lilith, first of her kind?”
I glanced at Roman and furrowed my brow. What?
He wet his lips, and then leaned toward me. “Just promise to tell the truth.”
“Yes,” I said, noticing the suspicious gazes from the audience. Shoot, I was already screwing this up. “Yes, I promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God.”
A couple people chuckled.
Roman sighed. “Members of the Council and Royal Family, I, Roman der Wölfe, do hereby call this interrogation to session.”
My stomach clenched as Roman took a seat at the table. Tancred stood.
“Miss Ema, please tell the court in your own words what took place during the three days we were in Shanghai, China.”
I pulled both hands behind my back to hide my fidgeting fingers, and then drew a deep breath. “I, um, killed Lilith.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“Ah...” I cleared my throat, recalling the words Roman said to me before we entered the room. “I decapitated her with a sword. One swing, right to left. It was a very sharp sword.”
Tancred chuckled. “I think you misunderstand my question. Or do you expect the Council to believe you tracked and killed the Mistress of Succubae all on your own?”
I looked at Tancred and narrowed my gaze. “No, of course not. I had help.”
Tancred lifted his brow, waiting for me to continue.
I lowered my gaze and bit my lip. Couldn’t they have given me more warning? I would’ve prepared. Think, Ema. I promised to tell the truth, but I was supposed to be taking the credit for Lilith’s death. That’s what I promised Brinnon. That’s what Tancred said he’d ensure. But I suppose there had to be some theatrics involved. They would need something official to write in their reports.
So I made it up on the spot.
“I came up with a plan,” I said. “There’s an alchemist in Shanghai. A Ch’ing Shih name Shénshèng. I told King Brinnon I was going to ask her to make another philosopher’s stone to help kill Lilith, but that was just a farce to draw Lilith out. The truth is I had a decoy stone the entire time, but I couldn’t tell His Majesty because Lilith had a spy watching over me. It was only a matter of time before the spy showed himself to stop me from having another stone made. My father—he’s a Hunter, you know—and Prince Jesu helped me capture the spy. I made a deal with Lilith. The stone and the spy in exchange for some... information. I was to meet with her at People’s Park to make the exchange. I had never been to Shanghai before. I didn’t know the park would be so crowded. Anyway, Shénshèng made a serum for my weapons. One drop to the blood system would slow Lilith’s abilities. We thought we had her surrounded, the three of us, but that wasn’t the case. She came to me in disguise, using a glamour. I didn’t recognize her. She said Lilith was waiting for me inside an art museum. I demanded that she meet me outdoors, but she refused, so I went inside. Alone. Once I realized who the stranger really was, I acted. I stuck a shuriken star into her chest, then two more in her gut.” I pointed to my torso to indicate where Jesu had stabbed her. “She tried to escape, but the serum did its job. Then the sword.” I held out my hands, mimicking the grip of the hilt. I lifted my fists over my right shoulder and swung through the air in a downward arch, acting out the swift slice of the blade Jalmari had administered. “Her head rolled back and landed on the floor. After that, I got the hell out of dodge.”
My hands trembled as I lowered them to my sides. I’d left a lot out; details that haunted me—Jesu struck dead by the real stone. Jalmari narrowly saving both our lives.
“What was the information you sought from Lilith?”
I shrugged. “I asked her why she raised Apollyon, what their plans were, but I didn’t get an answer.”
Tancred nodded, and then addressed the room. “Logan Marx, Ema’s father, lays comatose in the castle infirmary this very moment, fighting for his life.” Invisible tears brimmed behind my eyes, and I glared at him. He met my gaze. The etchings of an apology creased his lips. “Please, tell the room what happened to your father.”
I looked across the table at Brinnon, and my heart felt heavy; dark. The King leaned forward. His brow dipped in askance. I had liked Valafar. I had fought for him. I wanted to believe he was good—that he only acted bad because of his mother. But if anything happened to Dad, I would hunt Valafar down myself.
“When we got back to the hotel,” I said, pausing to clear my hoarse throat, “Lilith’s spy... an incubus named Valafar... attacked my father. Valafar escaped. Dad’s been locked in his own subconscious ever since.”
Brinnon’s gaze widened as he leaned back in his seat.
“I have one last question.” Tancred folded his hands in front of him. “Were you aware of the dangers of this quest?”
I nodded. “I’ve been told hundreds of others died trying to do what I did.”
“But you went anyway,” said Tancred. I knew what was coming next: “Why?”
For the contract; so you will spend the rest of your lives owing me.
I looked at each vampyre seated before me, men and women, all of them countless years older than I could image. I didn’t care what they thought. A deal was a deal. I killed Lilith. I was going to be exactly what Tancred said—
“Because I’m not like the others. I am the King’s assassin.”
Tancred grinned. “I hereby call this interrogation to an end and move to continue with the notarization of the Alpan-Marx Protection Act.”
Groans ensued from some of the Council members. Others looked conflicted. Roman stood and beckoned me. I shuffled toward him, my back pressed against the wall as I squeezed past all the leather chairs. He rushed me out of the room, pulling the door shut behind us.
“You did well,” he said, patting me on the shoulder.
“Doesn’t seem like it. I saw their faces.” I hugged myself. My hands still shook, and I folded them under my arms.
“Hey, we’re getting what we wanted, right? The opposing party doesn’t have to like it; they just have to stick to it. And they are.”
It didn’t so
und like it. The guttural German buzzing behind the door sounded like quite a few people were still arguing against the contract—especially a certain feminine voice. My shoulders curled inward as I turned to leave.
“Hold on,” said Roman. “We’re just taking five.”
I glanced at him quizzically. “There’s more?”
He nodded. “You go back in when the notary’s done.”
I slumped against the wall and waited.
Little by little, the room began to empty. Princess Sara hugged me on her way out.
“I’m so sorry about your father,” she whispered.
“Thanks.”
Auda huffed. “Just because I signed the stupid document doesn’t mean you can call on me whenever you want.”
“Noted.” I rolled my eyes. I didn’t plan on my kids growing up with Aunt Pop-Star anyway. Even if the apocalypse struck, and she was the last Alpan on Earth, I think I’d take my chances with a demon horde. Still, having Auda on reserve was better than not. I had no clue what Shénshèng saw in my son’s future, but I didn’t think alchemists had visions about unimportant people.
Then there was Dad’s Jumlin prophecy to consider. Truth or fiction? What were the odds?
Tancred was the last person to come to the door. He had showered and changed clothes some time before the meeting, and looked the part of the politician in a slate gray suit. The shoulder pads under the jacket were a touch too much with the natural width of his broad shoulders. I liked him better in gear, stabbing enemies alongside me.
“I think these belong to you.” Tancred reached into his pocket, and then handed me two woodchips tied to two separate leather cords. The claror necklaces. My brow pinched as I took them.
“I thought Valafar had them.”
“He tore them off, but didn’t take them. I found them on the floor when I went back to the hotel for a shower.”
I grinned at him. “Thanks.”
Tancred nodded, and then continued through the corridor.
“Come on.” Roman gestured to the conference room. I looped one necklace over my head while entering, then stuffed the other in my pocket. Brinnon was the only person left. He sat in the same seat at the narrow end of the oval table, not far from the door. A manila folder lay open in front of the King, several pages of crisp white paper stacked neatly in between.
“Miss Ema.” Brinnon smiled, and then gestured to the chair next to him. “Have a seat. This is the part where you read over the new parameters of our agreement, and then add the list of people you want under the crown’s protection. The Act will go into effect immediately, pending your signature.” He turned the file around so that it faced me.
With a deep breath, I reached across the table and pulled the document closer. Minutes passed as I read page after page. Brinnon and Roman waited patiently. Everything seemed much the same as the original contract Maria had negotiated with Nikolas, until my gaze snagged on a peculiar sentence.
...The initiate will report to E. A. base camp to complete the minimum required training immediately following a mandatory maternity leave of up to, but not exceeding, 24 months after signing The Act.
“What is this?” I lifted the page in question and pointed. “Maternity leave?”
“You cannot train while you’re with child,” said Brinnon.
“But,” I furrowed my brow and set the paper down. “You knew?”
Brinnon’s mouth curved. “A vampyre with motion sickness? Really?”
“Plus,” said Roman, “do you really think a family that breeds like rabbits wouldn’t notice?”
“I am the eldest of fifteen.” Brinnon nodded.
“Sara’s already bursting with plans for the nursery.” Roman frowned.
My mouth fell open. Sara was supposed to be keeping it a secret.
“Have you thought of names?”
“Here’s a few,” I said. “Anthony Hicks, Helena and Logan Marx, Bridget du Lupe, Maria and Naamah ta Korento, Jesu ta Korento—”
Brinnon grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen. He scrawled the names down as I said them.
“—Jordan Marx, and Logan Junior Marx.”
“Good names,” said Roman.
Brinnon finished writing, and then slid the pen across the table. “I think we’re just about done here.”
I caught the pen, turned to the last page, and added my signature. “Pleasure doing business with you.” I slid the file with the document and pen toward the King, and then stood to leave.
“One moment.” Brinnon murmured a word in German, and Roman nodded.
“I guess this is where I say good-bye,” said Roman. “It was good meeting you, Miss Ema.”
“Wait, you’re leaving? Like, leaving the castle?”
Roman nodded. “Tancred’s keeping his job, which is perfect because I never wanted it, so I’m going home.”
“Well, don’t be a stranger,” I said.
Roman shook my hand, then looked at his brother. “I’ll go say bye to Mom first.” He winked and then stepped out of the room.
“You have a great family,” I said. “You’re really lucky you know?”
Brinnon chuckled. “Yeah, they’re okay. Listen, I thought I should tell you this now while I have your attention.” He paused to lick his lips, and his gaze turned somber. “There’s a wolf in my bedroom.”
I was not expecting that. “What?”
“Don’t worry, she’s friendly. Val left her.”
“Valafar? He’s here?”
“Not anymore.” Brinnon shook his head. “I didn’t know he... I assumed Lilith was the one that hurt your father.”
“Brinnon—”
The King lifted his hand to stop me. “He’s gone. It’s over. I can’t...” He winced, and then started over. “I think he feels bad about hurting Logan. He asked for help with something, but I got the sense he really wanted to ask you.”
I put a hand on his shoulder. “Brinnon, if my father d—” Heck, I couldn’t say it. “If he doesn’t wake up...”
Brinnon shook his head and covered my hand with his. “Ema, if that happens, I’ll hunt him down with you.”
The promise took a moment to sink in. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that, but I appreciated the show of support. I drew a breath and then nodded. “By the way, the wolf’s name is Lupa. She’s timid, so be kind.”
Brinnon blinked at me. “You know her?”
I smiled, and then strode out of the room.
I didn’t know how to explain it to Brinnon, but of course it was Lupa. She usually wasn’t far from her owner, but now that Lilith was dead, I was happy she was here, safe. I decided I would check on her later. There was one last thing I had to do first.
I went to the infirmary, and then closed the door. Jesu was sitting next to Dad with his feet propped up, but he quickly stood as I crossed the small distance.
“Can you stay a bit?” I asked.
Jesu looked to the side and scratched his chin. “Are you wanting to talk about earlier?”
“No. I mean, we can if you want.” Heat flooded my cheeks and I prayed that he would say no. What was there to talk about concerning the kiss and our feelings that hadn’t already been said?
He lowered his hand, looked at me, and then looked away again. “I would rather forget about it.”
I drew a breath, and then nodded in agreement. “Okay.”
“You have something else on your mind?”
I pulled the scroll from my pocket and offered it to him. “I think it’s time I find out what this says, before that Chayton guy gets here.”
Jesu upped his brow as he took the scroll. “I forgot about this.”
“Yeah, I did too.” I sat on the edge of the bed, near Dad’s covered feet.
“I have to warn you,” Jesu said while unrolling a portion of the scroll. “It is terribly boring.”
“Um, history major, remember?” I pointed to myself. “Boring is my specialty.”
“It would be a welcome change of pace,”
he murmured. “All right.” Jesu got comfortable in the chair and began translating the Finnish script. He didn’t need to know, I decided, how my heart fluttered at his accent or how I paid more attention to the curvature of his lips than the words he spoke. He didn’t need to know how I would love him—no matter what happened next.
EPILOGUE: JALMARI
I stood before my desk, studying the three items I had placed there. The first two were small. My father’s dagger, still stained with the blood used to awaken the Saga-giga. His blood. Next to it was the knife I’d used to cut Ema’s arm while saving my brother. The blade was also quite stained. The third item was large—a painting of a young woman surrounded by a garden of roses.
Ever since the incubus had enlightened me to the correct number of fetuses growing in Ema’s womb, I could not get the suspicion out of my mind. The thought crawled over my bones like poison, cold and unsettling.
Were either of them mine?
Jesu was a master of his craft. He painted all the greats. The Tudors, the Medici, the Romanoves. A hundred masterpieces lined the library, and there were hundreds more where those came from. But the woman looking up at me from the canvas on my desk was no great lady. She was no queen or princess, nor even particularly lovely. And yet, she was Jesu’s most treasured item. The thing he kept closest to him always. His curse and his salvation.
She looked like Ema. We all assumed it was Ema. The similarities were especially numerous when compared to Ema’s human appearance. They shared the same color hair, the same color eyes, the same slender frame and supple lips. And yet, even without the changes forced onto Ema by the awakening of her Nephilim genes, there were still subtle differences between the two women. Ema’s nose was slightly less prominent than the woman in the portrait. Her chin was a bit more pronounced as well.
To think those strokes were done in error—that the creator of this painting lacked the skill or discipline—when he’d been more devoted to this portrait than all the others? No. I had no doubt that when my brother closed his eyes, he saw this exact person staring back, every detail etched to perfection in an obsessive need to make her tangible.