by Bec McMaster
Ava stepped back in surprise. What on— "After him!"
Kincaid took two steps, ripped the lid off a nearby crate, and threw it discus-style toward the fleeing man. He went down, and Kincaid hurried after him, stomping a foot in the middle of his back when the fellow tried to flee. "I'm not much for speed," he told her, reaching down and flipping Mr. Leicester over. "Why'd you run?"
"P-pardon," the man said. "I didn't... I panicked. I just.... I meant no harm by it."
Kincaid circled him slowly, and with his leather coat clinging to those broad shoulders and his thick brows drawn together, he looked quite menacing. "In my experience, innocent men don't run. Ava?"
"We're looking for something you might have imported," she said, withdrawing her notebook from her pocket so she could show him a sketch of the mushroom they were after.
"No! No! I won't say anything." The man cowered. "I can't! He'll kill me."
He?
"Who will kill you?" Kincaid demanded, shaking him a little.
Leicester kicked and scraped at the floor, trying to escape. Kincaid picked him up and slammed him back on the desk, both of his fists curled in Leicester's cardigan. "I won't ask again."
"You, unfortunately, have a choice to make," she told Mr. Leicester, trying to restrain Kincaid with a gentle touch. "You clearly have information we require, and we're running out of time to get it."
"Fucking craver," Leicester said, and spat in her face.
Ava didn't see what happened next. Kincaid's fist blurred past her in a savage blow, and blood spattered across the desk. Ava wiped her face clean with her handkerchief as he punched the man again and again, driving him onto the floor. "Kincaid!" she yelled, grabbing his raised arm.
Those blue Celtic eyes were wild with rage as he looked at her. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine." She eased his arm down. "We need him to talk to us, Liam."
Kincaid let the man go with muttered curse, raking his hands through his hair as he turned away from her. The man curled into a ball on the floor, sniveling and clutching at his broken nose. Blood streamed from it, and for a second she felt like she wanted to cast up her accounts.
"If you even look at her less than politely," Kincaid snarled, "then next time I won't stop."
"As you can see, you're facing quite the predicament," she said, shaking a little. She'd never been spat upon before. "My friend here is not quite as civilized as I am. And if you don't answer my questions—"
"You're not going to kill me," the man blustered. "You can't. You're a Nighthawk."
"No, we're not going to hurt you." At least some people in this city still knew what the Nighthawks stood for. "But I think we're going to take you to see a friend. He's not quite as nice as we are, and unfortunately, he's willing to do whatever it takes for the greater good."
"Malloryn?" Kincaid asked.
"Malloryn," she confirmed. "Pick him up and I'll go through the shipping statements."
"There's no need for that," a child's voice called.
Both she and Kincaid spun around.
A young man, barely a lad, stepped hesitantly toward them, his hands raised in front of him, and a cap on his head. "Please don't hurt him," he called, his nervous eyes flickering to the man on the ground. "I can show you what you're looking for."
"What we're looking for?" Ava questioned, standing a little straighter. Neither she nor Kincaid had mentioned anything in particular.
"Edward! No!" the man on the ground bellowed.
"You're going to get us all killed," the boy shouted back. "You're going to get yourself killed. They're Nighthawks! They can help us."
"You have my word," Ava told him. "If you tell us what we want to know, I'll use any influence I have to see you and your family are safe."
"You're here for the serum, aren't you?" the boy piped.
Ava shot Kincaid a look. The serum? "You have the serum here?" They'd been looking for the mushroom, and instead struck gold.
The boy nodded. "Just promise you won't hurt my father, and I'll show you where it is."
* * *
Edward Leicester was most helpful.
"All of what we have on hand is in that crate," he said, gesturing to a small picnic-basket-shaped box.
Kincaid used a crowbar to pry it open. Inside, dozens of small vials rested neatly, filled with a bright green liquid. "There's more than enough serum here to kill hundreds of blue bloods."
Ava flashed before his eyes, curled in a heap on the floor and bleeding from her eyes, with black veins pulsing behind her pale skin. He felt sick. Blue blood or not, this was a crate full of murder, and he couldn't risk her again.
He needed to find the rest of this bloody serum and destroy it.
"That's only the last crate, sir," Edward said. "They took the rest of them. This one was misplaced in the rush."
"The rush?" Ava asked.
Kincaid slowly lowered the crowbar. "How many crates? Where are they coming from? Who's taking them?"
Edward took a step back, his freckles showing starkly against his pale face. "It's.... We're just shipping them."
"Smuggling, you mean?"
The boy swallowed. "There's a manufacturing facility near Brighton," Edward said. "I don't know what Da's been promised, but the men who came here weren't very nice. All we had to do was smuggle the crates in, hide them in the warehouse, and then hand them over when men with the right codes and tattoos appeared."
"Brighton." He exchanged a look with Ava.
"That seems awfully convenient," she replied. "Considering one of our suspects was supposedly seen in the area."
Lord Ulbricht. "Was it a tattoo of a rising sun?"
Edward's face brightened. "Aye, sir." He revealed his wrist. "One of them had it right here."
"And they were blue bloods?" Ava questioned. "Pale skin, pale hair?"
Edward shook his head. "I don't know, ma'am. I don't think Da would deal with blue bloods, but then he kept me and my brother out of all of this. I... I wasn't supposed to be watching."
"Describe them," she said, taking out her little notebook as Edward ran through the details.
Kincaid paced. Three different men, at least two blond, which could mean blue bloods. Rich clothes, a posh accent, one of them wearing well-shined shoes, so that indicated some money.
"They needed the shipments by tonight at the latest," she repeated, when Edward had finished. "Over three thousand vials of serum to be collected in the last few days." Her breath caught in her throat at the number. "Do you know what they're planning to do with all the serum?"
Edward looked pale now. "I don't really know. We were only the smugglers, ma'am. But... I heard one of them laughing. He said, 'flick the match and watch London burn,' and his friend said, 'they're not going to burn, they're going to die, kicking and clutching their chests.'"
Chests... that could mean hearts. What did this all mean?
Edward swallowed. "And then the first one said, "Nighthawks first."
* * *
"They're going to attack the Nighthawks," Ava said, the words spilling out of her in a rush as she filled in the rest of COR. Three thousand vials of serum. She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed when she finished, waiting for the others to comment.
"Blood and ashes," Malloryn whispered.
"They could kill the entire Echelon with that amount of serum," Gemma added, in a sickened tone. "As well as the Nighthawks, and any other blue bloods in the general population."
No more blue bloods.
All of her friends, her newfound family.... Ava swayed, and then suddenly there was a warmth against her back, a presence there supporting her. Kincaid's hand rested on the small of her back.
"I won't let it happen, Ava," he told her. "I promise."
And she nodded up at him, letting everything she felt for him fill her eyes. He'd come so far in such a short time. Ava patted his arm, still feeling sickened, and it was only then she realized everyone in the room was looking at the pair
of them.
Especially Malloryn.
The duke looked away, standing and pacing the room. "Ulbricht's an antihumanist but surely he wouldn't go this far. He believes in blue blood rights to power, and that humans are nothing but cattle. I can hardly see him spearheading a... a murder spree against blue bloods, and if this gets out of hand, then the very people he's fighting for will die."
"You're right," Kincaid breathed, "but what you're not taking into consideration is the fact none of these deaths are blue bloods of any importance. He doesn't care about the Nighthawks. He never has. He wants to protect the Echelon, and the past. Is Ulbricht arrogant enough to think he could use it and control it?"
The look on Malloryn's face was answer enough. "Yes," he said, closing his eyes briefly, as though he could see his world going up in flames.
"They were tests," Charlie said, as if the penny dropped for him too. "Mr. Thomas, and Mr. Long and the others. They're all new blue bloods no one suspected were even infected. Ulbricht must have had them tracked, and tested his serum to make sure it worked."
"The attack was always two-pronged." Malloryn waved a hand. "A poison that afflicts only blue bloods, a spate of murders, and the loss of the vaccine clinics. He's using fear tactics against both races. The humanists have no way to protect themselves from succumbing to the craving without the vaccine, and many of them will be wondering if they've already been stricken with a contaminated vaccine. And the blue bloods of the Echelon will be frightened about a disease that can kill them, thinking the humanists are trying to destroy them.... Blood and ashes, this is madness."
"Ulbricht wants a war," Kincaid said darkly, "no matter what the cost."
A chill ran through her. Of course. She'd said it herself. How can we have a future when you hold such prejudices against me?
"They're using our own tactics during the revolution against us—using riots to create fear in the Echelon, and stirring up that disgruntled memory within the human ranks until it spills over. This is all about dividing the races. About destroying our newly minted peace," Kincaid continued.
You could have heard a pin drop in the room.
"For three years," Kincaid said, "humans, mechs, verwulfen, and blue bloods have held equal rights." He stabbed his finger toward the map on Malloryn's wall, pointing to the first scene of riots. "During the revolution, the only thing the blue bloods feared was the might of a human mob storming the Ivory Tower. So they crushed the riots before they even began. We have peace now, but it's an uneasy peace, and nobody seems to quite know where they stand."
"That's what Ulbricht's trying to provoke," Ava blurted. "He wants the blue bloods who are left to feel frightened. He wants humans and blue bloods to see each other as enemies again. All of this is to frighten blue bloods into joining his cause, and setting them against the human ranks again."
Kincaid shot her a look, and nodded. "So far the riots have been subdued peacefully, but one flick of the match and all of a sudden London will burn. Trouble's brewing among the human population. I've heard it with my own ears, from friends. It's been a quiet grumble in the past year, but all it will take will be one clash gone wrong."
"The Nighthawks," Ava said, and swallowed. "They're on the front lines, and Garrett said during the last riot one of his men was shot. He's going to come down hard on the next mob. And if he does...." Ava felt like her breath punched out of her.
"There's your tinder strike," Gemma said grimly. "There's your match to an oily puddle."
"Blood and ashes," Malloryn swore. "How the hell did I not see this?"
Ava exchanged a glance with Gemma, who grinned unrepentantly. It was rare one got one over on Malloryn.
"Well, you were distracted, Your Grace, what with your upcoming marriage, and frosty relations between you and your soon-to-be wife," Gemma replied.
"I can't afford to be distracted." Malloryn paced shortly, rubbing his hand across his mouth. "Fear means there'll be blue bloods from the Echelon swarming to Ulbricht's ranks, and from there they'll start muttering against the queen. I thought we cut the head off the snake of the SOG when Zero died, but Ulbricht's... cleverer than I suspected." He looked genuinely baffled. "He's never been this patient or thoughtful before, and I should know."
"Unless he's not the one behind the plan," Ava suggested. She felt emboldened by the sudden belief in her theories. "You said you suspected someone was pulling dhampir and SOG strings last month. Some hidden mastermind we don't know about. Maybe whoever that mastermind is, he's set this plan in motion? Maybe Ulbricht's still a puppet?"
"But what we do know," Malloryn said grimly, "is that London is one riot away from going up in flames. And Ulbricht has the most dangerous weapon I've ever heard of in his hands, and is mad enough to use it."
"But how?" Kincaid demanded. "He needs to inject the poison, doesn't he? Which means getting close to a Nighthawk, and they're highly trained. None of his SOG are fighters, not like the Nighthawks."
"Get moving, everybody," Malloryn snapped. "Gemma, I want you to make a move on the SOG suspect we think we have. Break him if you have to, but make sure he tells you everything. We need to know what Ulbricht is planning. Charlie, go with her to watch her back.
"And you two"—Malloryn pointed a finger at both him and Ava—"make your way to the Nighthawks guild as swiftly as possible and alert the guild master. Our first priority is stopping the Nighthawks from making a dangerous mistake. Then we can figure out how Ulbricht's going to use the serum."
Twenty-Four
THE RUMBLE OF a steam engine thrummed beneath her, and Ava clung to Kincaid's broad back as he wove in and out of the stream of traffic in a deft line, maneuvering his velococycle as though he had some wish to die a fiery death.
"Slow down!" she yelled, burying her face against his broad back, the wind whipping past her ears, and her split skirts flapping against her calves and thighs. She wasn't human, and could probably survive a fall, but he wouldn't. Not at this speed.
"Can you hear that?" he yelled over his shoulder, indicating the rumble that undercut the velococycle's noise.
It sounded like a roll of thunder on the horizon... or a whisper of mutiny echoing through the streets.
And it was getting louder.
"It's already happening," Ava breathed, her goggles pressing tightly against her cheeks as she bumped into his back.
Kincaid zipped around a steam cab, and slid to a halt in the middle of the next intersection. The velococycle quivered beneath them like some enraged beast, ready to bolt. All around them people stared curiously. They'd probably never seen its like before.
Plumes of smoke rose from the East, darkening the already murky afternoon light. "If that's a riot," Kincaid said, "then there'll be Nighthawks on the scene."
"Malloryn said we need to get to the guild."
"Malloryn said we need to stop any altercation between the Nighthawks and potential rioters," he corrected. "What do you think?"
Ava bit her lip. From the sounds of it, there would be Nighthawks gathering. Little garrisons of them were stationed all over London, ready to deploy at a moment's notice. "Go," she said, making a swift decision. "There's no point in us alerting Garrett if a riot's already being crushed."
The back wheels of the velococycle slid out behind them, and Ava squealed as Kincaid gunned the engine, heading directly toward the smoke column.
He gunned it through the streets, up onto the cobbled footpath when he needed to, and in and around slower moving vehicles. Ava clung to the barrel of his chest for dear life.
"There's the Nighthawks garrison!" Ava cried, spotting the first burning tower. St. Marcus's Garrison was built into the old walls the Romans had built around Londinium centuries ago—the Echelon had built onto the wall in the past, separating the inner city and their territory from the sprawling boroughs that held only humans. "They've fired it."
The gateway beneath the arch linked both towers, and allowed Nighthawks easy access. She hoped whoever had been on d
uty had escaped before all this began.
Nighthawks guarded the arch, riot shields at the ready by the look of it. There were dozens of them packed into the narrow space, and she could barely see the crowd beyond thanks to the oily smoke. Another crew of Nighthawks powered the water cannon nearby, hosing down the West Tower of St. Marcus's.
Kincaid skidded to a halt, powering down the velococycle's boiler. A fierce line of Nighthawks glared at them, gesturing them to turn back. Anger lit their faces—no doubt they all knew of the Nighthawk who'd been shot several days ago, and retaliation would be brewing in the backs of their minds.
Ava swung off the velococycle, coughing as the smoke drifted past them. "I'll go through. Most of them should know me, and they'll listen to me. I think it best they don't set eyes on a mech just this moment."
She took one step, but Kincaid grabbed her wrist. "You bloody fool—you're running headlong into a riot!"
Screams started echoing ahead. There was no time for this. Ava stroked his hand, imploring him to let her go. "Trust me," she said. "Please. They'll listen to me."
"Here, now!" a Nighthawk bellowed, withdrawing a small truncheon and starting toward them. "What's going on here? Let the lady go, you bastard!"
She shot Kincaid one last look. Emotion warred on his face, a volatile mix of rage and fear, but he let her wrist go. "Don't get hurt. I'll wait for you back here."
"Thank you." She knew how much it cost him to allow her to do this.
"It's me!" she called, hurrying toward the Nighthawk and flashing her guild credentials. The embossed silver hawk came in handy sometimes. Ava breathed a sigh of relief when she recognized him. "Kennewick, thank heavens. I need to speak to the leader of the garrison. Immediately. You can't retaliate."
Ahead of them a roar of fury went up.
"Stand back!" someone bellowed, but a missile was launched over the crowded Nighthawks and smashed onto the cobbles among them. A bottle perhaps, one filled with oil. Flames whooshed out of the midst of the Nighthawks, and one of them screamed as they all parted.
The shield wall began to fail and howling rioters plunged through the gap, swallowed whole by Nighthawks. Truncheons went up and down, and she heard the crunch of breaking bones mingled with unearthly screams.