by Olsen, Lisa
“You don’t have to take this. Teach this dillhole a lesson!”
It was true, chances were I’d be able to best him without breaking a sweat, but I had other plans. “No, we want to go to Vetis, they can help me find Bishop.”
His gaze sharpened, but he said nothing.
“Wait... Do you know Bishop?”
“Come along, miss,” he replied, propelling me toward the mouth of the alley. “You may bring your human with you, if you wish.”
“Thanks a pantload, chief,” Bridget scowled, arms crossed as she followed along.
I shot her a quelling look before turning my attention back to him. If he knew Bishop, it was in my best interests to get onto his good side. “What’s your name?”
“Clay.”
“Well, Clay, you should know that I intend to cooperate fully. Vetis is exactly where I need to go. We are going to Vetis, aren’t we?”
“That is correct, Miss Gudrun.”
“Please, call me Anja.”
“That would hardly be appropriate, Miss Gudrun,” he said shortly.
Boy, did he remind me of Bishop when I first met him. “I don’t suppose you happen to know where Bishop is, do you? It’s terribly important for me to find him.”
“You have other worries at present, miss.”
Cool beans on toast. I remained quiet while he flagged down a hack, giving instructions to take us to the Vetis house. “Why? What happens when we get to Vetis and I don’t have any papers?” I asked when there was less danger of being overheard.
“That is not for me to determine.”
“Hey, I’m over four hundred years old, I’m not some noob... newly turned outlaw. And I am of Carys’ line.” Not exactly a lie, in a roundabout kind of way.
He didn’t say a thing.
“You can give me some kind of a test to verify I’m who I say I am, can’t you?” How did they do things without those little electronic gizmos that tested the blood like they did in the future? “Volkov’s not around, is he?” I wondered, my stomach turning over itself in a tight knot at the idea of facing his idea of interrogation again.
“I believe he is in Rome at present.”
“Thank God for small favors.”
“Yeah, that guy is an ass and a half,” Bridget muttered, and I kicked her foot.
“Bridget... language.”
“Sorry, but he is the worst.”
“Where did you say you’re from?” Clay asked, eyes narrowing.
“We’ve spent a great deal of time in America lately,” I said with a wan smile.
“Ah. That explains it.” He accepted the excuse, and I wasn’t sure if I should feel relieved or insulted.
It was a long ride to Vetis, and the hack didn’t have the greatest suspension. Maybe it was nerves or a touch of motion sickness, but I felt downright queasy the closer we got to the mansion. I recognized the countryside as we approached, though there was no sign of the fancy wrought iron gate or the guard house as we turned onto the private lane.
“There’s something out there,” Bridget whispered, her face pressed to the grimy window as dark shapes moved in the shadows.
“They’re wolves,” I replied, knowing instinctively that there would be werewolves serving guard duty, like they did in my time.
“Oh right, I forgot about them,” Bridget nodded, somewhat subdued. “At least that asshat Brody won’t be here this time.”
“I am sorry, did you say ass...?
“Hat,” Bridget smiled back at him. “One who engages in asshattery.”
Clay gave her a bewildered scowl, his attention focusing on the house that loomed up ahead. It looked as imposing as I remembered, three stories high and big enough to be a hotel, the wings on the sides newer, but still well over a century old.
The carriage pulled up to the side, not the main entrance, and we were ushered into a nondescript door I’d never been through before. We didn’t encounter a soul as Clay led us down three flights of stairs. The elevator hadn’t been installed yet, I supposed.
The walls were bare stone, not drywall like it’d been the last time, the halls lit by candles placed into wall sconces at regular intervals. We were too far from London for gaslight, it seemed. Despite these differences, the layout was familiar enough, and as we passed the infirmary and Winter’s offices, I smiled with a pang of nostalgia.
“Man, this place never changes, does it?”
“You’ve been here before?” Clay asked, surprised.
“In another time,” I smiled back.
At the end of the hall, we met up with another Order member, dressed in similar clothing, his dark hair pulled back into a long queue. “Wood, see to this human, won’t you?” Clay ordered, handing Bridget off to the guy.
“Where are you taking her?” I objected, not sure I liked the idea of being separated. What if they really didn’t believe I was Carys’ progeny?
“That is not your concern,” Clay replied mildly.
“It’s about to be. I won’t see her harmed.” I’d agreed to come along quietly, but that didn’t mean I was a pushover.
“I’ll be fine, An,” Bridget assured me. “I can hold my own with these twits.”
I hesitated, but finally relaxed. “Remember what we talked about,” I said softly.
Bridget gave a dramatic roll of the eyes. “Off we go then, luv,” she nodded to Wood, picking up the cockney accent again.
Clay’s touch at my elbow propelled me forward again, and down another flight of stairs. Uh oh. I remembered what was down on that level.
Despite the fact that he was taking me down to the dungeons, Clay was all politeness as he escorted me down the dank hallway. The smell kicked up the level of nostalgia a notch, as did the room he took me to. Was it the same one I’d been tortured in before? They all looked the same.
“Have a seat, if you please.” Clay gestured to an iron banded chair bolted to the stone floor. I took a seat, preparing myself for the first round of questions, but instead, he held up a set of manacles. “Your hands now, miss,” he prompted, and I kept them in my lap.
“That’s not necessary. I told you, this is where I want to be.”
“Be that as it may...”
He wasn’t going to budge, I saw it in his eyes. Letting out a long sigh, I held my hands up. “I get it, you’re in the Order, what would your life be without following protocols,” I muttered.
Once he was done shackling my wrists and ankles to the chair, Clay paused, a flicker of concern crossing his features. “It is not unduly painful, is it, miss?”
“It’s fine, thanks.” That had to be the weirdest thing I’d ever thanked anybody for, but he was only doing his job, after all. When he turned to go, I called him back. “Wait... you’re not staying?”
“No, miss. I confess I have little stomach for... well, what is to come,” he replied, looking green around the gills, and I started to get worried.
“What exactly is coming?” If the big bad vampire cop looked that squeamish, what was their method of verifying a vampire’s age?
For long seconds he hesitated, but all he said was, “Tell the truth, Miss Gudrun. It shall be far easier on you if you tell only the truth.”
“The truth. Cool beans.” Because that always went so well. “This should be fun,” I sighed as the door clanked shut. I consoled myself with the thought that it couldn’t be as bad as it was the last time I’d been interrogated by the Order. For one thing, I was a lot tougher than I’d been the last time. Since coming up against Volkov, I’d had a great deal of powerful blood, from Bishop, from Jakob. Drinking Ellri blood tended to make a vampire stronger, and the fact that Jakob was my Sire put me in better shape than the average vamp. Unless they straight up tortured me, I’d be alright. And I was counting on them erring on the side of caution, in case I turned out to be who I said I was.
The sound of boots ringing on the stone floor reached my ears, and I took a deep breath, centering myself. I conjured up a confident smile, the better to throw my
interrogator off balance. But it was me who was thrown for a loop when I saw who opened the door.
Bishop.
Bishop himself walked into the cell and it was all I could do not to break free and tackle hug him.
Bishop! Sweet zombie Jesus, he looked good, fawn colored breeches hugging his thighs and tapering into high, polished boots. His navy cutaway coat stretched over broad shoulders, revealing a finely tailored waistcoat that emphasized his narrow waist. His dark hair brushed the tops of his shoulders with long Captain Kirk style sideburns, his cheeks shaved smooth as a baby’s bottom. A starched cravat kept his head held high, every inch the Regency gentleman, and I couldn’t help but swoon.
It was really him! After crying over him for the past two months, I couldn’t be reasonably expected to keep the tears in now, and I wasn’t ashamed to openly weep at seeing him healthy and whole, even if he hadn’t looked once in my direction. In fact, Bishop wasn’t paying any attention to me at all, he was too busy unrolling a bundle of soft leather that held a set of very sharp knives set into individual pouches.
“Do not distress yourself, madam,” he said, his cadence much more formal than I was used to. He didn’t sound British exactly, but a melding of accents, as if he spent time all over Europe and hadn’t decided which inflection to pick. “If you answer my questions truthfully, you will come to no harm.”
Laughter bubbled out of me. “I’m not distressed. I’m happy. This is exactly where I want to be.”
“Indeed?” He looked up at that, seeing me for the first time. There was a flare of something in his eyes, almost recognition, and I knew he saw my resemblance to Carys, but it was quickly shuttered away. “You might not feel the same way shortly if you do not give me the answers I seek.”
“I’ll tell you anything you need to know.”
“Let us begin with your name.”
“Anja Gudrun”
“And your Sire?”
“I am the daughter of Carys, daughter of Jakob. Which makes you my brother, Bishop.”
He went very still, staring without replying for long seconds. I got the feeling he was trying to push something down inside himself, and when he spoke again, his voice bore no trace of emotion. “And how is it that you happen to be in my city without papers? You know the penalty.”
“Your city?” My brows drew together in confusion. “I didn’t know you’d spent all that much time here to claim the city as your own.” Hadn’t he told me he only spent a few months there getting the Order established at Vetis? But maybe that was now?
“That is not an answer.”
“Sure it is, just not the one you expected,” I smiled,” but he was unamused. “Geez, I forgot how grumpycakes you get when you’re on the job,” I muttered, before remembering I was trying to get on his good side. “I’m sorry. As I told Clay, I was waylaid. My papers are gone, along with all of my identification. All I have are the clothes on my back.”
His gaze slid over me, taking in the cheap dress and the ill fitting shoes. “Surely someone of your reported age could hardly be taken unawares.”
“You know how vulnerable we are during the day. I’m lucky they were only interested in my belongings.”
“Were you not captured with a human servant? Does she not provide you with protection during the day?”
“Okay, first of all, I was not captured, I came in willingly. And second, yes, that’s Bridget. She, um... she fell asleep,” I lied off the cuff, shrugging. “It happens.”
“Perhaps it is time to seek a new companion.”
“Actually, I’m rather fond of this one. Ah, speaking of which. Where is she?”
“She’s been taken to the east wing with the other feeders.”
Uh oh. Were they about to put Bridget on the menu? I summoned every ounce of my Elder training, making myself as regal as possible, despite the fact that I was still chained to the chair like a prisoner. “She is not to be harmed. She’s under my protection.”
A curl of amusement tugged at his lips. “Your protection is not worth much at this precise time, madam.” His fingers brushed over the hilt of a wickedly slender boning knife. “There are penalties when a vampire lies.”
“I’m not lying. I am the daughter of Carys and I can prove it.”
Chapter Ten
“And how shall you prove such a thing without documentation?” Bishop asked, clearly skeptical.
“Ask me something about her, anything at all. Ask me something about you, in fact. I think you’ll find me well versed.”
“Something about me?” he repeated, taken aback. “And how is it that you would come to know anything about me? Carys never once mentioned you to me.”
“Oh, but she told me all about you, Ulrik,” I smiled. “All about your life growing up in the Italian countryside near the Volturno river. Playing for your mother and your sister, Adriana.”
The knife flicked out, cold steel pressing to my throat. “Say her name once more and I will cut out your tongue,” Bishop growled, and I went completely still. Is it sad that even with his blade against my neck, I was still over the moon happy to be that close to him?
“I’m sorry,” I said gently, knowing his anger masked a terrible sense of loss. “I know how much it hurt you to lose her the way you did.”
The knife didn’t waver. “I do not jest, madam. You will not speak to me of such things.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, licking my lips. “Ask me something else then. Let me prove it to you. Ask me about Aubrey. Ask me about Jakob.”
“Jakob?” He relaxed his hold, the knife dropping to his side as his anger drained away. “You claim to know him as well?”
“We’ve met a time or two. Big, blonde, full of himself, kind of bossy?”
“This is all well known.”
“He has a weakness for sweets and aquavit? Called Carys älskling? She called you cariad, I remember her saying once.” Cripes, how it bugged me when she called him that.
A swift intake of breath passed through Bishop’s lips. “That signifies nothing. For all I know you have simply stumbled upon her diary.”
“As a matter of fact, I have read her diary once,” I admitted, though I wasn’t eager to share anything I’d found in it about the curse. “But I really and truly did know Carys up close and personal.” Not a lie...
“Your speech is most unusual. Where do you hail from?”
Frak. I was going to have to put in more of an effort to blend in. “I’m originally from Austria, but I’ve been spending time in the American colonies of late.”
“Ah,” he nodded, accepting the explanation. Jeez Louise, I was going to get a complex if that kept up.
“Look, I can appreciate that you have a job to do, Bishop. Believe me, I know it better than most. But I haven’t broken any laws. Surely a vampire of my age and lineage should be afforded some respect.”
“If you are indeed what you say you are.”
“Fine, then let me go and I’ll prove it a different way.”
“And how do you propose to do that?”
“Test me. I’m stronger than you are,” I taunted with a teasing smile, and Bishop raised a single brow. We’d been pretty evenly matched before, but he was two hundred years younger now. That made him around two hundred and sixty-five years old, and I had Ellri blood in me, making me roughly around four hundred years old strength wise.
“I can prove it. Want to arm wrestle?” At his look of confusion, I hurried to explain. “We each put our elbows on the table and clasp hands, and try to push the other’s hand over. It’s a test of strength.”
“I am unfamiliar with this test.”
“Fine, then let’s spar.”
“You think to try me in combat?” Open scorn flitted over his features, and as much as I was happy to see him, I sure wanted to knock it right off his smug face.
“If you like,” I said with a serene smile. I knew I could take him in a fair fight. I knew maneuvers that hadn’t been invented yet on that side
of the Atlantic, most of which, I’d learned from him. I’d also picked up a thing or two from Rob, Lee, Carter... Oh yeah, I’d wipe the floor with him.
“This does not serve your cause well,” Bishop pointed out, sounding unconvinced. “A gently bred lady would not grapple like a common thug.”
“There’s nothing common about the way I fight,” I retorted, my chin coming up in defiance. “You and I both know that women can be warriors. Neither one of us is from this time. I am descended of Jakob, son of Thor. I am a shieldmaiden.”
A flicker of doubt crossed his features, his head canting to one side as he studied me. “How old are you?”
“Four hundred, give or take a few.”
“How is it that Carys never once mentioned you to me?”
“Who can say why Carys did the things she did? It may be she didn’t want the competition.”
“I do not deal in what may be, I deal with facts.”
“Then let me go and put me to the test. Let’s settle this mano a mano.”
“You truly believe you can best me? I will not hold back. Woman or not.”
A smile of pure anticipation lit my face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
* * *
It didn’t help my cause when I asked for breeches and a shirt, but I wasn’t about to fight him in an empire waist dress and corset. Despite the disapproval in his clenched jaw, Bishop agreed, releasing me from the manacles, but not the room, while he went off to make the arrangements. I took the opportunity to braid my hair back for war; this was for keeps. I absolutely took Bishop at his word when he said he wouldn’t hold back, and neither would I.
Clay came back about twenty minutes later with a pair of knee breeches that fell to my mid calves, and a blousy man’s shirt.
“Awesome, thanks,” I smiled, accepting the bundle.
“It’s hardly worthy of awe,” he shrugged, and I stopped him before he left.
“Hey, do you think you could help me with the laces on the back of my...” I turned, exposing the back of my corset.
Clay’s cheeks turned purple, quite a feat for a vampire. “I could not, Miss Gudrun,” he gaped, horrified by the thought. “Surely you do not intend to... to remove your...”