by Tanith Frost
It’s not affecting my own power, though. I can already feel it fading, though it leaves me with a warm glow near my heart. This won’t change me like Silas’ fire did. I think I can relax and enjoy it, though I already know I have a whole lot of interesting research ahead of me if I can ever get my hands on proper materials again.
Imogen smiles at my compliment, but it quickly falters. “I put a few spices in with the grounds. There’s no name for the blend, though.” She bites her lower lip and stares at me. Her eyes are unnervingly blue. “Strong enough to wake the dead, eh?”
I drain the cup and set it back on the counter. “Here’s hoping. My friends are kind of partied out.”
Partied out? Do people say that anymore?
Did they ever?
She refills my cup and packs the six coffees into two cardboard trays. “No charge for the refill,” she tells me. “I’m glad you like it. Most people don’t even notice it’s any different from what Jimmy serves when he’s working.”
“Well, fuck ’em. I say find yourself an investor and open up shop for yourself somewhere with a more refined clientele.” I nod to whatever she was studying. “When you’re done with school, I mean.”
A hint of colour creeps into her cheeks. “I’ll think about it. Have a good day, now.”
“You too, Imogen.”
The cat grumbles as I head for the door, warning me to stay back, watching me closely from the golden slits of his narrowed eyes.
I’m almost back to the van when the bell tinkles behind me. I turn to find Imogen rushing out.
“Who are you?” she asks. “Just your name. Nothing else, please. Just…” she shrugs. “If we’re going to keep meeting. I like to know my customers.”
“Aviva.”
She nods solemnly. “I like that.”
She doesn’t even glance at the van before she turns on her heel and runs back inside.
“Cute,” Daniel mutters when I open the door and hand him the coffees, which he turns to distribute. “Is she why we came all the way out here?”
I drum my fingers against the steering wheel. “She’s good at her job. You’ll understand when you try the coffee.”
“I haven’t had anything but blood in twenty years,” Trent grumbles. “My stomach’s not accustomed to it.”
“Drink,” I tell him. “Coffee’s the closest thing we’ve got to magic beans right now.”
I drive the few blocks to the shitty motel I was staying at when I first discovered Imogen’s corpse-raising brew. It’s a fucking hole, but it’s a space where we can rest without being spotted.
“Want me to find a bank machine somewhere else?” I ask. “They take cash.”
Daniel shakes his head. “Might as well use my card. Viktor won’t want to meet until after dark, but there’s no point trying to hide in the meantime.”
My stomach tightens. Surely the elders can’t be angry. We’re heroes. We slaughtered the enemy.
Viktor can’t be pissed at us for surviving the battle. Can he?
I pay for three rooms and leave the others to settle in while I drive the van a few blocks away and park it down a side street. Maybe someone will report it and the family will get their property back. I hope so, anyway.
Daniel’s waiting when I return, holding the door to our room open. I collapse face-first onto the double mattress, which creaks under my weight. I want to wash the gunk off my face, or at least shed a few of these ridiculous layers of clothes, but I can’t.
Daniel lies next to me, and I roll over so my back is facing him.
“Did you call?” I mumble.
“Mmm. Inferno. Tonight. Viktor is sending a car for us.” He pauses, long enough that I think he’s fallen asleep.
For a second I panic as my old fear of dreaming in front of him washes over me. Then I remember, and I relax. He knows. He doesn’t care.
“Everything will be okay,” he adds, pulling me out of the dreamy shallows I’m drifting in. I’m not sure whether he’s assuring himself or me.
I want to ask what we should do. What we should say. How the hell we’re going to get out of this without sending his reputation and my future through the shredder together.
Instead, a thick fog rolls over me, and I lose myself to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I wake early in the afternoon, roused by an indistinct nightmare that’s gone as soon as I’ve opened my eyes, leaving me with a tight chest, fear-chilled skin, and nothing to pin it to. I stare into the shadows, unmoving, waiting for reality to snap back into place around me as it used to far more easily before I started dreaming again. The blurred line between asleep and awake never bothered me when I was alive. Now it makes me feel lost.
I shift my weight in the bed and realize I’m pinned under Daniel’s arm. He’s curled up against my back, his body pressed to mine, holding me close. He wasn’t like this when I fell asleep, and the dead are never restless sleepers. He must have been awake longer than I was, keeping watch until he couldn’t fight his exhaustion any longer.
I reach for his hand and twist my fingers between his, holding his lifeless flesh close to my unbeating heart, and drift back toward sleep.
Whatever comes when we visit the Inferno tonight, we’ll face it together.
Trent stands in front of the mirror and straightens his tie. It doesn’t do much to improve the appearance of his outfit. His suit is torn and bloodstained, his formerly white shirt missing several buttons. Still, the old vampire carries an air of dignity and power. His missing eye makes him look like Odin himself, fresh from battle.
Genevieve looks up from her work on the bed, where she’s performing further repairs on Hannabelle’s leg. The contents of the first aid kit are scattered over the bed, as are the threads and needles of a sewing kit she found tucked in a drawer. None of it seems to be helping much. “You’re sure I can’t make you an eye patch, Trent? I have a black scarf that would look quite dashing.”
Trent gives his reflection a thin smile. “I think not. Let them see my scars and understand what I’ve survived.”
It’s evening now, just past sunset, and almost time for some of us to head to the Inferno. We’re all as rested as we’re going to get, and no matter how nervous we might be about facing elders or learning what’s to become of us, I think we’re all anxious to have it done with.
Five of us are sitting in the room Trent and Edwin shared through the day, waiting for Daniel to finish his shower. Edwin unplugged the clock fifteen minutes ago, claiming it was taunting us. He’s not coming to the club. It’s going to be a long night for him and the others who are staying here.
The plumbing in the wall groans as the shower in my room shuts off.
Daniel seemed on edge when he woke tonight. Nervous, even, and seeing him like that scares me. I’ve seen Daniel in dangerous situations, but he’s always been so confident of his own competence and power that it’s never shaken him. I guess part of that was that he’s always played by the rules, never stepping so far out of bounds that he couldn’t recover.
At least, not until he met me. That was a close thing, I think. He stepped over a firm line when he made me, but he’s paid his dues, atoned for his mistake. This particular shit show is a fuckup of another magnitude entirely. He disobeyed direct orders when Viktor held authority. He might as well have defied the regent who stands in for a queen.
The only potential saving grace is that, as far as we know, the queen herself is still with us, and Daniel and I followed her orders every step of the way. The question will be whether saving a pack of supposedly useless old vampires justifies our disobedience. It’s the best defence we have, and hopefully our victory over the Blood Defenders will buy us some credit as well.
I have a feeling I’m fucked either way, but I’m kind of used to it.
Truth be told, I’m proud of myself. I stepped up. I faced our enemy, and I killed her. I served Maelstrom without lying down and showing Viktor my belly. Maybe that won’t impress the elder
s, and I’ll face the consequences of that. But when I woke tonight I understood, maybe for the first time, that I might yet find my path and change the world somehow. Not in the way others might prefer, through proper channels and strict obedience. Not by watching my step and climbing the ranks and playing the game.
But there have to be other roads.
A soft knock sounds at the door, and Genevieve opens it for Daniel. My chest tightens. He still looks tired, but he seems ready to get this over with. His gaze meets mine. I want to go to him. I want to touch him, kiss him, assure him that everything will be fine.
I don’t. I can’t promise anything.
“We’ll see you when you get back,” Hannabelle says without opening her eyes. She seems to be processing recent events on as deep a level as what I’m experiencing, coming to terms with her new-found gift, the loss of her best friend, the human lives she took, and what the future might hold.
Trent is coming with us. He’s already made some kind of decision, though he’s staying as quiet about it as anyone. Daniel motions for me to wait, and they step out into the hall.
Genevieve takes me by the arm. “He’ll be fine, dear,” she tells me.
“Pardon?”
“Daniel.” She smiles, but there’s something hard in her eyes. “You will be, too. But you’ll want to be careful.”
“I will. Daniel’s going to do most of the talking.” We’ve decided that the elders will be more likely to listen to him than to me. I have no argument with that plan. I do have a tendency to speak up at the wrong time and end up with both feet in my mouth, and until I figure out whether anyone can sense the change in my power I have no desire to draw attention to myself. Daniel has promised to protect me, to frame our actions in a way that will smooth everything over. He’ll keep my secrets better than I can myself.
It feels good to be on a team, to know he has my back. He told me we’re in this together, no matter what.
Genevieve shakes her head slowly, and I realize she’s followed my thoughts after my words trailed. “Not careful with the elders, dear, though that’s probably for the best. With Daniel. Your… relationship.”
My mouth goes dry. “I know.”
It’s not as though every step we take closer toward each other doesn’t terrify me.
“Do you?” She drops her voice until it hovers just above a whisper, though the others could surely still hear if they wanted to. “You’re not alone. You’re not the first vampires to feel things that are forbidden to us. But I can tell you that these rules exist for good reason.”
“You?” I ask, surprised.
She closes her eyes. “Mine was worse, I suppose. Mine was a human. Can you even imagine? The shame, the pain of loss when others found out and…” She swallows hard and takes a long breath. “Nothing is worth that.”
“I’m sorry, Genevieve.”
She smiles sadly. “Don’t be. It was a hard lesson, but important. The idea of romance is appealing, but it’s like the warmth of sunlight. We experienced it in life. We might miss it, even crave it. But it is not ours to experience. Just as Edwin traded other gifts for what he has now—”
“Which saved all your asses,” he says under his breath, and I smile.
Genevieve shakes her head at him, but doesn’t really seem irritated. “We have our power and our gifts and our greatness. But we leave other things behind in exchange, and we are only weakened by things that belong to the light. They divide us and distract us, give enemies openings to hurt us.”
“I suppose. But is that worse than the alternative?”
“It’s a choice,” she says. “But consider what you stand to lose if you limit yourself to walking on someone else’s path and accepting security over stretching your wings. I nearly lost myself over a creature of light who wanted to love me. I grew desperate for her affection, became mad over the idea of losing her. In the end, she lost herself long before her death. I adored her, and I meant well. But I was so intent on protecting her that I smothered her spirit.”
My throat closes as I remember all of Daniel’s well-intentioned promises. He can teach me to exist within Maelstrom, protect me until I get back on my feet. Until I figure out how to become content inside the walls that keep us safe.
Until I learn to hide who and what I really am.
A lump forms in my throat.
No matter what I do, I keep digging myself deeper into this mud pit of a non-life I’m creating for myself. But I’m learning. I’m growing. I’ve opened doors I’m not sure I want to close, no matter how dangerous the rooms beyond might be.
Genevieve rests a hand against my cheek. “You have a long time on this earth. Remain loyal to yourself, and to that which will help you realize your incredible potential.” Her dark eyes are soft, kinder than I’ve imagined possible.
Daniel pokes his head back into the room. “Ready?”
I don’t answer. I just follow.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Inferno is silent for the first time since I started visiting.
The evidence of attempted arson has already been erased from the outside of the building, but the shabby bar upstairs displays blackened walls behind the yellow CAUTION tape we have to step around to enter. There’s no danger of the living wandering in here tonight, and no bartender to challenge us when we step past the curtain that leads to the dark staircase.
It’s nearly midnight now, but there’s no music thrumming through the speakers, no hum of voices. The lights behind the bar, which should be showing off the dazzling colours of an array of vials full of temptations for our stock, are out. The only illumination tonight comes from faint incandescent safety lights high on the walls. Someone has been in to clean up—the barstools are all piled in a corner next to buckets of paint and cleaning supplies—but the sharp scent of smoke still rests heavy in the air.
A bouncer in a black suit meets us as we enter the bar area, arms crossed over his broad chest. I don’t recognize him as one of the elders’ bodyguards.
“They’re waiting,” he tells Daniel, then gives me a curt nod. He watches Trent for a little longer, then looks away.
No. Averts his gaze. There’s a difference. But if Trent notices and is pleased by this recognition of his power, he doesn’t show it. He hangs back, following me and Daniel to the hallway that leads to Miranda’s office. I don’t glance back, but I can well imagine the distaste written on his features as he takes in this side of a world he abandoned so long ago.
I want to break the silence. Hell, I want to shatter it. I want to ask questions, make conversation, scream, do something to calm the tension that’s got me pulled tight like a string about to snap. Every faint scuff of my boots on the floor seems to echo through my body.
I can’t read anything from Daniel, who’s got his mask firmly in place. Nothing will ruffle him, at least not on the surface.
I square my shoulders and set my jaw. While I might not have his particular gifts of secrecy, I’m not going to crumble or give anything away. I would have, once.
Genevieve’s warning comes back to me as we enter the long hallway. The threat that I could lose myself. That I could stop growing. It’s only now that I understand how much I have already grown. Every step I’ve taken and every decision I’ve made that has hurt me or scarred me has made me stronger.
Daniel glances at me as we move down the hallway.
“I’m fine,” I tell him.
“I know.” But he sounds worried. He says he can’t feel the change in my power, but that doesn’t mean no one else will. I’ve agreed to try to keep it quiet. It’s all I can do.
We’re not meeting in Miranda’s pretty office, but in a room on the left side of the hall. The lights are a little brighter in here, illuminating a dark wood table and the three elders sitting behind it.
My dead heart twists within me at the sight of Miranda, who’s seated between the others. She’s always pale, but she’s almost transparent now against the severe black hue of her hair.
Her skin is papery and dry, her eyes sunken and surrounded by dark circles, her cheeks hollow. Her power, which so recently felt infinite and undeniable, is barely a whisper, hardly distinct from anyone else’s.
But she’s here. She hasn’t given up.
Daniel approaches the table without hesitation, stopping a few paces away from the elders. Trent and I follow and stand a step back on either side of him.
Viktor and Raymond sit on either side of Miranda, looking far stronger and healthier than their leader. They seem to take up more space than they rightly should, and it feels as though their presence might crush her.
Miranda meets my eyes, and for the first time I’m not scared of what she might see in my thoughts. I don’t care if she knows how I hate Viktor and the shit he tried to pull. I don’t even care if she knows how I see her now—beautiful, ancient, and in terrible danger from the ambitious vampires who have acted like her lapdogs for a century while no doubt coveting her position.
I don’t know that she’s any better. I don’t know whether she deserves her power. I just know I trust her more than them, and that it’s all I have to cling to right now.
She lowers her chin slightly. It’s not quite a nod. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s for me.
I look to Daniel. He hasn’t spoken, and seems ready to wait as long as it takes for them to accuse us. It’s a lesson he tried to teach me early on, one I never really mastered. Never give yourself away. Don’t make the first move if there’s no benefit in showing your hand.
Viktor leans forward. “Daniel, explain what happened the night of November first. You had orders to leave your charges and their caretaker in a safe house and return to St. John’s to assist with the hunt for humans who attacked your high elder, among others. You clearly and deliberately disobeyed these orders and cut off communication with your superiors.”