by Bec McMaster
"If there's one thing I don't do—it's give up," he whispered.
Byrnes could find anything. It was what he did. The very thought of it made him nervous—this was no simple pledge, and there were stakes here that could rip a woman's heart from her chest. A woman who had slowly, somehow, curled her own fist around his long-frozen heart.
"I'll find them, Ingrid," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair. "No matter how long it takes me. I promise I'll find them for you."
But not yet. Now he had a group of vampires and anarchists to discover.
THIRTY
DAWN GLOWED GOLDEN on the horizon.
Finally.
Byrnes waited as Jack inspected the small cut on the back of his head where he'd inserted the tracking device an hour ago. It had already healed, thanks to Byrnes's CV levels, but they were taking no chances that Zero would smell any blood on him.
Jack began to clean his instruments, as Debney paced the room. Byrnes hadn't been entirely surprised to see him here. Not after Ingrid's little revelation about the two men, but the pacing was getting on his nerves.
"Heavens sake, would you sit down?" he growled. "You're making me dizzy."
Debney promptly sank into a chair, knotting his hands in his lap. "I'm sorry."
It took the edge off his words. "Don't you think you ought to go home? Get some rest?"
"I don't think I can," Debney muttered. "Ulbricht's still out there somewhere, and... well... You're going to be careful?" Debney asked, and the words were so perfectly pronounced, that Byrnes hesitated.
Flippant words died on the tip of his tongue. He eyed his brother. Was Debney actually worried about him? "I'll be careful," he promised.
Debney let out a slow breath.
"Ingrid will watch his back," Jack added, resting a hand on Debney's shoulder and squeezing. "Nothing's going to happen to him."
Their eyes met, and Byrnes found himself in the middle of a moment that was awkwardly sweet. He stepped out of the way before Debney tried to do something ridiculous, like hug him.
There were limits.
Heels clicked on the hallway floor.
"Slight problem," Ingrid said, sailing into the parlor. She wore her protective armored corset over a loose white shirt, and a tight pair of leather pants that showcased those Amazon legs to perfection. He couldn’t stop himself from looking, remembering them wrapped around his hips.
Malloryn followed on her heels, slipping his embroidered coat from his shoulders. "I'm a problem now, am I?"
That tore Byrnes’s attention off her legs. "I thought you were in meetings?" The last thing they needed was the duke getting in the midst of all of this. Malloryn pulled strings. He didn't prance into vampire dens.
"They're over. Martial law has been declared. Nobody is allowed out after night falls, and the Nighthawks are going to flood the streets."
"Have you thought about this, your Grace?" Byrnes asked him. "We're going into vampire-infested tunnels. It's possible some of us might not return."
Malloryn settled that unsettling blue stare upon him. "Do I look like I need you to hold my hand, Byrnes?"
"I've never seen you fight. This won't be a duel, your Grace."
"Oh, good. I'd best leave my rapier behind then," Malloryn replied, tugging off his cravat and then piling his rings in the mess of his coat. "Someone fetch me one of those armored waistcoats."
"As you wish, your Grace," Jack murmured, and shot Byrnes a steady look as he left to find Malloryn some protective gear. Debney continued trying to fade into the wallpaper.
"And stop treating me like I'm going to be bloody underfoot," Malloryn bellowed, so that Jack could hear it. He glanced at Byrnes. "Problem?"
Byrnes crossed his arms. "You can come on one condition. You're not in charge of this mission. You don't have any experience in the streets, or beneath them. I do. Ingrid does. Even Charlie knows what he's doing. So order of command goes like this: Me, then Ingrid, then Charlie. If all three of us are down, then, and only then, do you get to take charge. One hint that you're not listening, and I will personally truss you up and deliver you to the Nighthawks until all of this is done, do you understand?"
A slight smile crossed Malloryn's lips. "I think I can manage not to get myself killed. You're in charge. So let's get this briefing underway, shall we?"
* * *
IN A WAY, Malloryn actually helped. The borough was quietly cleared by the Nighthawks, and a troop of the metal Cyclops suits that the humanists had created to overthrow the prince consort were supplied to help clear any tunnels. Charlie enthusiastically claimed one of them, strapping himself inside the heavy metal suit and tugging the harness into place.
The entire thing was unnerving, but Byrnes had to admit that the enormous steel automaton would prove handy if they needed to clear tunnels or take on a vampire. It clomped along at his side, pistons hissing as Charlie worked the gadgetry inside it.
“If all goes well, Zero will kidnap me off the streets, you’ll track me to her den, and then you can come in guns blazing and we’ll take down the entire nest of vampires in one fell swoop.” The plan pleased him, but he had to admit there was doubt there too. It knotted itself in his stomach like a leaden weight, and the cause of it tilted almond-shaped eyes up to his. “Ingrid,” he murmured, capturing her hand. “Don’t do anything stupid, and stay safe. You’re lucky I’m letting you do this.”
“Letting me?” she replied, in the kind of tone that was the exact reason he hadn’t bothered arguing against it.
This was one fight he wouldn’t win.
“Zero’s made a threat against you,” he pointed out, and caught Charlie’s eye over her shoulder. They’d already had a quiet little chat, man-to-man. But the last thing he wanted was for her to know that. He squeezed her hand and dragged her closer, his voice lowering. “If anything happens to you….” This was unfamiliar terrain.
Ingrid’s gaze softened. “I’m not the one walking into a vampire den unprotected,” she pointed out.
“Then you know how I feel.”
Ingrid toyed with the lapels on his coat. "I know how you feel."
Their eyes met. Byrnes squeezed her waist. He'd never gone into battle like this—worried about anyone else's safety, or even his own, now that he had a promise to fulfill.
"Are we quite done with the sweet nothings?" Malloryn asked, striding back to the group and priming his pistol. Sunrise turned his brown hair coppery.
Byrnes stepped back from Ingrid and cleared his throat. He'd never been one for public displays. "Time to see if she takes the bait."
Ingrid grabbed him by the lapels and hauled him against her. Clearly she disagreed. Their mouths met, fast and furious, and saying more than words.
When she let him go, Byrnes cupped her cheek in his hand. So many emotions raced through her bronze eyes. He knew how much she'd lost, and how much she feared the idea that he might not return.
"I'll come back to you, I promise. And I always speak the truth, Ingrid." Then, giving her one last kiss, he turned and walked away.
* * *
HE WENT AHEAD ALONE.
Ingrid bit her lip, pacing in the shadows as Byrnes's lean form slipped into the fog... then disappeared. She ached to go with him, to guard his back, but this task needed to be undertaken alone. Even if it felt like she was cutting her heart out of her chest.
"He'll be all right," Charlie murmured. He'd managed to discreetly give them both some privacy by turning his face away and studying the wall as they kissed, but she didn't think much slipped past Charlie. Despite his youth, he wore the weight of the rookeries on his soul. "Byrnes knows what he's doing."
It wasn’t so much doubt about Byrnes’s abilities that made her fret, but the fear that she’d never see him again. She’d tried so hard to keep him at bay, and yet in true Byrnes fashion he’d pushed his way into her life, aggravated her, argued with her, seduced her… and then stolen her heart when she wasn’t looking.
Now she finally
knew what it felt like to have something that she could lose. That certain little something she’d been missing from her life had come from an unexpected direction, but she couldn’t fight the fact that she wanted it. Wanted him. A future with him.
And it was only now, standing on the precipice of losing him, that she could see that.
"What if Zero doesn't decide to keep him? What if she sets her vampires upon him? Anything could go wrong." She could almost see it.
"I know how you feel—"
"How I feel?" she retorted. "How could you? You're just a boy."
"I'm old enough." Shadows darkened those brilliant blue eyes as Charlie's entire demeanor changed. It happened so quickly that she realized just how much of a facade that cheerful mask was. "You're afraid because he's walking into danger, and there's a chance—just a slim one—that something bad might happen and you cannot protect him. That's the worst part of this, the fact that there's not a damn thing you can do to help. The lack of control.... You just have to hope for the best."
Shame washed through her. She was taking her emotions out on him, and it was clear from Charlie's tone that he had someone he worried about too. "I'm sorry," Ingrid said gruffly. "I'm on edge, and—"
“Don’t worry about it.” Charlie flashed her a smile. “You’re not the first verwulfen I’ve ever dealt with.”
Ingrid realized she was pacing and stopped, brushing her knuckles restlessly against the seam of her pants. "Who is she?"
"Who?"
"The girl you were speaking of; the one you worry about."
The humor dissolved off his expression. Charlie glanced down, thick blonde lashes hiding the slither of a blue blood's hunger as it flashed darkly across his irises. "Who said I was speaking of any girl in particular?"
"Your tone. Your voice. The fact that you cannot control your hunger when you think of her. It shows in your eyes." As Charlie fell into stillness, she added, "You don't have to tell me."
"Helps take your mind off matters, doesn't it?" Charlie sighed, then glanced at the tracking device that he held in his hand; the one they would use to hunt Byrnes down if he didn't rendezvous with them at the appointed time. "Her name is Lark. And she hates me."
"Why?"
"I did something reckless during the revolution, and the man she thought of as a father died because of it. He took a bullet that was meant for me." Charlie's voice broke, and he fiddled with the tracker in his hand, his agile thumb toying with the small compass arrow that was pointing due south. Toward where Byrnes had disappeared. "Lark's barely spoken to me since that day. That's one of the reasons I took this commission when Blade told me about it. I just... I needed to get out of the rookeries for a while."
"I'm sorry."
A translucent smile darted over his face, bittersweet and half mocking. "That's why you should be careful with Byrnes's heart, Ingrid. You just never know when you might lose such a thing—”
The compass arrow suddenly jerked. Both she and Charlie leapt to their feet, staring down at it.
"Why did it do that?" Ingrid whispered.
Charlie's face paled. "Something happened."
Something... Byrnes....
She started to run, but Charlie nearly jerked her off her feet. "No!" he told her fiercely, his hand locked around her wrist. "No, we can't just rush in there looking for him. Zero might not kill Byrnes, but she'll cut you down without a second's thought."
Ingrid glared at him. "That's why you're here, isn't it? To stop me from—"
“Doing something reckless.” Charlie's grip on her arm slackened, but didn't disappear. "He wants to keep you safe. He told me about the threat against you."
A growl sounded in her throat. "And what about him? Who's going to protect Byrnes?"
“We all are,” Charlie replied. “Time to bring in the others. Zero’s taken the bait.”
A whirring sound stopped her tirade in its tracks. Ingrid's gut plummeted through the soles of her boots.
The arrow was spinning.
* * *
A HAND REACHED out and jerked the black hood off his head.
Byrnes flinched as light stabbed his sensitive eyes. He scrambled back, but his hands were bound to the chair they'd thrust him into and the chair only scraped on the stone floor. Zero circled him with slow sideways steps, wearing a set of black leather breeches similar to the Nighthawks uniform and a burgundy-colored coat made of velvet. Her silvery hair curled over her shoulder in loose waves, and kohl darkened her eyes.
Rather than finding it enticing, his blood chilled. Four maggot-pale vampires lolled around the room, resting on the rug in front of the fireplace like hounds. Each of them wore a thick leather collar with metal coils and wires through it.
"Looks like you found me, after all." Zero smiled, and somehow Byrnes forced himself to drag his gaze back to her.
"Looks like I did," he replied, swallowing his fear and distaste. "Now what?"
"Now," she whispered, straddling his thighs and curling a hand around his neck, "my friends take care of your friends."
Byrnes's blood ran cold. "What?"
"Oh, Byrnes," Zero crooned, tugging at his shirt collar and fiddling with it flirtatiously. "Please tell me you didn't think I wouldn't notice a half dozen Nighthawks wandering around my asylum? And your pretty little friend... the verwulfen bitch. She looks lonely—" Lifting a small flute, she blew out a series of notes. "I think she needs someone to play with, now that you're mine."
Several chitters echoed out of the shadows of the room as all four vampires sprang to attention. Zero lifted a small control box with an antenna on the end and smiled at him as she pressed the button.
Electricity buzzed, and two of the vampires sank back down, resting their heads on their claws as static crackled over their collars. One of them had clearly been a woman, with sagging teats and straggly white hair that hung in clumps from its skull. The other two headed for the door as Zero played the same set of notes on her flute.
Byrnes tried to struggle, but it was no use. Zero's weight and the manacles were too strong for him.
"Go and glut yourselves, my pretties," she hissed behind her to the pair of vampires that slunk out through the door, before wrapping her arm around his neck playfully and crooning, "After all, we wouldn't want to be disturbed. Would we?"
THIRTY-ONE
"AN ASYLUM."
Of course. The map showed that Byrnes’s beacon signal was coming from the abandoned St. Mary's Home for the Criminally Insane.
"Makes sense," Charlie replied, taking a step in the heavy Cyclops suit that he wore. Pistons hissed as he knelt to peer through the opening that he'd just made using the Cyclops to tear down half a brick wall. All Ingrid could see through the glass slits in the Cyclops's headpiece was his pale face with that mop of blond curls. "They'd have cells here to incarcerate their vampires when they weren't using them. Or to hold people perhaps. And they're sitting right on top of this abandoned section of Undertown. Nobody would even see them coming in and out."
"Plus the asylum's reputation would keep most curious onlookers at bay," Garrett noted, running a hand down the stone wall. The Nighthawks guild master insisted upon coming along and bringing two of his men. Something about a debt he owed Byrnes from a few years ago.
Water dripped in the darkness through the hole Charlie had just made, but apart from that, all was silent. The smell, however....
"Jesus," Garrett muttered.
Ingrid had smelled death before. "That smells like old death," she told him. "Something's been dumping bodies just through here." One of the EMLEDs in hand, Ingrid crept through the hole in the wall onto a ledge, and looked down. The Electro-Magnetic Light Emitting Device would be one of their greatest weapons this morning.
The room fell away into a pit with a narrow pair of boards stretched across it. Ingrid squatted on the plank and then activated the EMLED, dropping it down into the hollow below.
The light tumbled end over end, then splashed to a halt far below. So
mething looked up and hissed, it's eyes shining blue-white with cat shine, and then the shadowy creature fled into the darkness. And that's when Ingrid began to make out the bodies.
Bone gleamed as the EMLED burned like phosphorus. There were the ragged remains of clothes and misshapen lumps of rotting flesh. She didn't need to see more.
"Vampire below," she murmured over her shoulder, looking into the darkness where the planks stretched. "I'm guessing this is where they dump the bodies. You're going to have to leave the Cyclops suit here, Charlie. The plank won't sustain the weight."
"Kincaid," Charlie murmured, touching the communicator in his ear. "Can you hear me?"
A static buzzing sounded, and Charlie's shoulders eased in relief. "We've got something here," he said. "Found a vampire, and maybe a way into Zero's holdout. She's been using the old asylum as a vampire den. Ingrid and I are going in."
Static crackled, and Charlie smiled as he let go of the button. "I think he's actually starting to come round," he joked quietly. "Even wished us luck."
"Really?" Garrett arched a brow.
"Well, it was more like, 'Go kill them bloodsuckers, and don't get bit, 'cause I ain't comin' in after you.'"
Ingrid had to grudgingly admit that Charlie gave an impressive impression of Kincaid. "You coming?"
"Of course," he replied, pressing something that made the chestpiece open on the steel suit. Charlie looked strangely vulnerable as he stepped down out of it.
A vampire couldn't gut a Cyclops, but it might do so to him.
"Kincaid's going to enter the asylum from the north with Malloryn and Gemma," he said, touching his earpiece again. "Ava's coordinating the Nighthawks and will have them slip into place surrounding the asylum so that nothing escapes. It's up to us to get Byrnes out."
In one piece. Ingrid swallowed. "Let's go then."
The two Nighthawks that Garrett had brought scrambled over the planks, running low with their weapons raised. Flanders, the one in the lead, pressed his spine to a crumbling brick wall and cocked his head to listen before flicking two fingers. The other Nighthawk, Nicholson, vanished into the shadows in response.