Follow Me When the Sun Goes Down (Forged Bloodlines)

by Olsen, Lisa

  His gaze flicked to Rob’s shoulders. “It’s not wise to share that ability with others.”

  “I trust Rob with my life,” I declared, meeting his eyes boldly, and I meant it one hundred percent. Sylvius considered that for a few seconds before he nodded again.

  “Then I trust him with mine as well.” He clapped a hand to Rob’s shoulder. “I’ll have to hear it from Simon’s own mouth, of course.”

  “Of course,” I nodded.

  “Very well then, set your fears to rest. I’ll take care of Simon.”

  “What will you do?” Rob asked.

  “I should have him killed, I suppose… but I find myself less eager to take lives when coming so close to the end of mine.”

  The end… I thought I’d misheard him at first, but the solemn cast to his face made me think I had the right of it from the start. “What makes you think you’re coming to the end of your life? You’re immortal, aren’t you?”

  “Immortal does not necessarily mean fit to live.”

  What was I supposed to say to that? “You look perfectly fit to me.” Not a lie, physically, he was as strong as ever, despite the stoop to his shoulders.

  “Most days I’d agree. Then again, most days I find myself missing more and more time, so it’s difficult to say.”

  “Then, you know that you’re…”

  “That I’ve grown feebleminded?” He smiled faintly. “Yes, I’m sad to say that I am.”

  He seemed so resigned about it. Here he was, sounding as normal as anything, it was hard to reconcile him with the old man at the puzzle I’d found when we came in. “Maybe there’s something you can…”

  “Shhh, don’t trouble yourself on account of an old man. When the time comes, I shall be more than ready for it. But for Corley, we must act quickly.” Sylvius reached for a bell pull in the corner of the room and less than a minute later, the door was opened by a liveried servant.

  “Yes, Your Grace?” he bowed.

  I had to get me one of those…

  “Send for Corley at once.”

  “At once, Your Grace,” he repeated, but I stopped him before he got completely away.

  “Also fetch Felix Hannover, Khalid, Aubrey Cantrell and, um… Brody. Tell them to come right away.” I figured we might need a few witnesses, and not all of them exclusively known for being on our side.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” he bowed again, his eyes darting back into the room with curiosity before he scurried off.

  Brody was the first to arrive, his demeanor immediately shifting once he caught sight of me in the Elder’s chambers. Remaining true to his order not to speak to me unless spoken to, he retreated to a corner while the others filed in, first Felix and Aubrey, both with champagne flutes still in hand and then Corley and Khalid, equally concerned over the reason for being summoned.

  This wasn’t my show anymore, and I let Sylvius take the lead, more grateful than I could say that his mind still seemed intact.

  “It’s been brought to my attention that my Warden has been implicated in a number of unsavory dealings,” Sylvius began, his voice grave.

  Corley instantly scowled in my direction, only to recover his smile for the Elder. “You can’t believe that I would be a party to these heinous crimes,” he began in a reasonable tone. “I’m afraid Miss Gudrun and I have come down on opposite sides of the negotiating table. Surely you can recognize a personal vendetta when you see one, Your Grace.”

  “Sit with me, Simon,” Sylvius ordered, taking a seat at the puzzle table, and I worried he might ask him to pick up the pieces and go back to his important work in the next breath. Luckily, his gaze remained strong and focused as Simon sat across from him. Corley, for his part, took the invitation as a sign of vindication, and the smugness returned to his lips as he faced us. The others in the room watched with avid interest, particularly Aubrey, whose eyes had taken on a particularly avaricious light.

  “There are penalties when a woman lies,” Corley declared, his eyes narrowing to slits.

  “Leave off the threats for now, Simon,” Sylvius interrupted him irritably. “You have not escaped investigation yet. Now then, you will answer me, and answer me truly, as your Elder. Is that clear?” Sylvius was so adept at manipulating him, I wouldn’t have guessed Corley was being compelled unless I knew to look for it.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Simon replied evenly.

  “Have you been manipulating the West for your own gain?”

  Simon answered without hesitation. “No, Your Grace.”

  My mouth fell open, I was sure he was involved. How was he able to beat the compulsion? Or was the Elder starting to lose his stuff, like he’d started to lose his mind?

  “Then you have not plotted against the Elder of the West in order to influence the negotiations at the Gathering?” Sylvius prompted.

  There was a longer pause this time as Simon searched for the right words. “Isn’t it right I should attempt to secure the best for the House of Vetis?”

  A lightbulb went off for me. The weasel was trying to doubletalk his way out of it without actually lying. “Ask him if he gave the order to kill Tommy,” I interrupted. “Ask him flat out. Not his reasons why, not whether it was in his interest or for Vetis. Ask him if he’s a murderer.”

  “Answer her,” Sylvius said softly.

  “I committed no murder,” Corley said shortly.

  “But did you or did you not put Angel up to it? Did you tell her to use the hunter situation to her advantage and get rid of Tommy?”

  Corley’s mouth opened and closed as he squirmed in his seat, looking like he might be physically ill before the words slipped out. “I did.”

  Khalid noticeably startled, but the rest of us could tell it was coming.

  “And me?”

  “I didn’t order her to kill you.”

  “Did you tell her to put me on ice?”

  “There was no mention of…”

  “Fine, did you tell her to stake me and put me out of the way until after the Gathering?” I spelled it out through clenched teeth, sick and tired of all the ways he tried to get out of taking responsibility for his actions.

  “I did.”

  Sylvius rose to his feet, his features etched with great sadness. “Simon Corley, you have brought shame to the House of Vetis. I hereby strip you of the rank of Warden and banish you from Vetis lands. You are never to set foot on your mother soil again, for as long as you shall live.”

  “Sylvius…” What pale color there was to the Corley’s face drained at the proclamation, his jaw dropping.

  “Take him from my sight.” The Elder sank back into his chair, looking old and tired again. Brody stepped up to grab hold of Simon and Aubrey and Khalid flanked him to help in case he got rowdy. The former Warden didn’t put up an iota of resistance though, his head hanging in defeat as he was escorted from the room.

  “Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars,” Felix taunted him in passing, his grin a mile wide at seeing Corley stripped of his title. As much as I shared in his joy at seeing the bastard go down, I couldn’t help but feel for the Elder as he stared into the fire.

  “Not now, Felix, okay?” I said softly. “I’ll meet you upstairs in a while.”

  “You got it, boss. I never should’ve doubted you for an instant,” he beamed, following them out.

  I waited until they were well away from the door, trading a relieved breath with Rob, who stayed with me, before I approached Sylvius again. “Are you alright? I’m so sorry this had to happen.”

  He stared into the fire without replying, and I started to think he’d retreated within himself again, but when he turned way to face me, I saw he was in far too much pain to have found the soothing escape of dementia.

  “It’s not your fault, my dear. I suppose I shouldn’t have left him on his own for so long. What will I do now? I’m not fit to continue to serve as Elder and without a Warden, Vetis will be plunged into chaos.” His voice rang hollow and melancholy.

&
nbsp; “What if you appointed another Warden right away and sort of stayed on for a while until you’re sure things are being run properly? Then, you could maybe retire…” Did Elders retire? I was under the impression it was a life long appointment. Then again, if he knew he was losing his marbles, it would probably be in everybody’s best interest if he finished out the rest of his life on a nice, quiet farm somewhere.

  “I’ve been so out of touch, I hardly know where to begin,” he sighed.

  “What about Aubrey Cantrell? Do you know him?” I knew he’d been involved in politics somewhat, and he wasn’t a particular fan of Corley’s. That gave him a gold star in my book.

  “That pup?”

  “He’s over four hundred and fifty years old, that’s hardly a pup,” I smiled.

  “Anja… it’s best not to get involved in the affairs of another House,” Rob said softly, and I realized he was absolutely right.

  “I’m sorry. It’ll have to be your decision, Sylvius. Don’t worry, you have time to make your appointment count. Nothing will fall apart as quickly as you think.”

  Sylvius nodded, his gaze turning back to the fire.

  “Okay, well… goodbye.” We waited to see if he’d say anything else, but Sylvius paid us no mind as we slipped out.

  “I’m not so sure I did the right thing back there,” I murmured as we headed back up to the main level.

  Rob shrugged. “You got rid of Corley, that’s a good thing.”

  “Yes, but you know what they say – better the devil you know. What if he’s manipulated into picking someone who’s even more of a threat? I had no idea Sylvius was so far gone. What if I’d just made things worse?”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Bishop stepped out of the car and exchanged a few words with the other driver. The three other Order members implicated in Angel’s scheme were being taken to the chapter house in Paris to await judgment. He’d taken the task upon himself of making sure Angel made it all the way to Rome.

  Only the prisoner he’d escorted to France on the shuttle had borne almost no resemblance to the woman he’d come to know for the past ninety years. Completely oblivious to her sentence, she’d talked nonstop about the stupidest, most inconsequential things. Asking Bishop if he’d ever seen a more glorious night (yes), didn’t he think the underwater tunnel was the most marvelous invention (yes, he supposed), and did he think the flowers might be in bloom once they got to Rome (no, probably not).

  By the time they got to Calais, Bishop had a throbbing headache behind one eye and every time Angel opened her mouth to exclaim over some newly discovered wonder, he wanted to smash her face in. He probably should’ve let someone else escort her there, but he’d wanted the alone time with her to get to ferret out if any other members of the Order were involved. And possibly, to put a stake through her heart if she gave even the smallest sign that she might come after Anja again.

  What he hadn’t bargained for was the Pollyanna next to him, viewing the world through rose colored glasses. She seemed like a completely different person. “What did Anja do to you?” he muttered as he claimed his car, waiting for their turn to drive off.

  “She gave me my life back, like I told you.”

  “What did she say to you exactly?”

  “She told me to be happy,” she said, her whole face lighting up with a dazzling smile. Angel really was a beautiful woman when she wasn’t so caught up in her petty scheming.

  “She did.” Why would Anja do that to the woman who’d tried to kill her? Anja was constantly surprising him since she’d come back to England. Sure, he’d known she would balk at having to come right out and kill Angel, she was too tenderhearted for that, but this… Had she stumbled upon an even better option than putting Angel in the ground? “How do you feel about what you did to Anja?”

  “I’m sorry for the part I played in it. I had no right to hurt her like that.” There didn’t seem to be any sarcasm in her voice and Bishop could detect nothing but sincerity in her expression.

  “So you don’t have any plans for revenge?”

  “Why would I? She’s never done anything to hurt me.”

  “Apart from the whole trying to kill you in the ring?” he smirked.

  “You know, I don’t think she intended to kill me at all,” Angel replied, like she’d only just realized it. “I think she intended to teach me something, and she did.”

  Bishop couldn’t wait to hear that that was. “What?”

  “Humility. I’ve been too caught up in the Order for so many years, I never stopped to think if I should do something, just because I could. Anja could have easily killed me, but she didn’t. She chose to forgive me and that’s the kind of person I want to be too.”

  Was she for real? Bishop wanted to think so, and Anja certainly had the power to give Angel a personality overhaul, but could he trust it? There was only one way to find out. He pulled the car over, stopping in front of a crossroads that advertised a farmer’s market.

  “Angel, I have to get back to Vetis, so I’m going to trust you to do the right thing and report to Volkov on your own.”

  “Is that really the right thing?” she considered aloud, her head canting to one side. “I’ve already been judged.”

  That was true, and he had to say, he definitely preferred this version of Angel than the bitter harpy she’d become. Still, it was his duty to see that she faced the Order. “You go directly to Rome. Don’t make us come looking for you.” But what would that do to her? What if they broke Anja’s compulsion and Angel became so filled with hate again that she came after Anja?

  “No, I don’t think I will. Immortality is a gift, Bishop. Don’t waste it.”

  “I’m not wasting it,” he scowled all the more, because her words mirrored the thoughts that descended on him during the lonely hours of the day.

  “Aren’t you? Has the Order made you happy all these long years? Truly happy?”

  “I’m good at my job.”

  “Life is more than work. Life is… Lord, I’ve no idea. Do you realize how ludicrous that is? I’m nearly two hundred years old and I’ve never truly lived until now. Anja gave me a gift, and I don’t intend to squander it. You should consider doing the same.”

  “Trying to kill a House Elder and then running away from my punishment?” he deadpanned.

  Angel met his gaze squarely, ignoring the jibe. “You should tell her how you feel, before it’s too late.”

  Bishop looked away, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Then I feel sorry for you.” Angel opened the car door, stepping out into the cold drizzle. “Goodbye, Bishop. I’m sorry for the way I treated you, for trying to make you feel something for me that wasn’t there. I hope someday you can forgive me and… and forgive yourself for the choices you’ve made.”

  He knew he should chase her down and throw her in the back of the car. She wouldn’t be reporting to Rome, and he’d be the one who had to explain it to Volkov. But all he could think about were her words. Was he wasting his life?

  Bishop pointed the car back towards Vetis, wrestling with deep thoughts for the shuttle ride back to England.

  *

  It was nearly dawn by the time he returned to the House, going straight for his office. The brief report was in his email, the three traitors had been delivered safely to Paris, and Pitch would be staying the rest of the night there, to return the following evening. Bishop started to draft his report, knowing only too well the expectations of the man who’d be reading it. Deciding it was best not to file it until it became obvious whether or not Angel submitted to judgment in Rome or flew the coop, he saved the report, but didn’t submit it.

  There were other matters that needed his attention. There was a file on his desk with Corley’s name on it. He glanced at the first page, noting that Corley had been banished from Vetis with mild interest. The chances that the former Warden would go peacefully were slim to none, but he left it fo
r now. Fisher’s report lay unread in his inbox and Rush had sent him a text earlier about some unrest down near Dartmoor that he hadn’t had a chance to look into.

  But Bishop did none of those things. He picked up the phone, backing out of the text screens, away from the alerts and into the contacts, bringing up Anja’s number.

  Not that he intended to call her, it would be ridiculous with her only a few levels above him. Besides, she probably wouldn’t take his call anyway, not after the way they’d left things between them. Still, Bishop stared at the little screen as he had so many other nights.

  It was the only picture he had of her.

  “Hello, Bishop. It’s been a long time.”

  The unexpected voice startled him out of his reverie, and Bishop sat up straighter, automatically shutting off his phone and shoving it into his pocket. The man standing in his office was handsome enough, brown hair parted and swept to one side, not too tall, not too broad of shoulder, his suit neither shabby nor too extravagant. Nevertheless, an aura of power surrounded him, despite the composed tone of voice. All who took vows and joined the Order left their old identity behind and were given a new name. In his native tongue, Volkov meant wolf.

  “Volkov…” Bishop rose to greet the head of the Order with a firm shake of the hand. “I didn’t realize you were coming here yourself. I would’ve made arrangements…”

  “It’s fine.” Volkov waved him back down into his chair with an easy smile. “Your report made it sound like a pretty serious accusation has been leveled against the Order. I though that merited my personal attention.”

  “Not the Order, but individuals within it,” Bishop clarified. “The Order itself has been cleared of any blame.”

  “Ah, I see.” He took a seat opposite the scarred desk. “Well then, this will give us a chance to catch up. When you wanted to leave for the Americas, I assumed you’d be back to take your place with me in Rome.” There was the smallest amount of censure in his voice, but Bishop picked up on it loud and clear. Volkov had never approved of his choice to remain in the West.

  “What can I say? I fell in love with the beaches,” Bishop grinned.