Bite of Silver: Alliance of Silver & Steam Book 2

by Lexi Ostrow

  “Shite!”

  “Mon Dieu!”

  They both moved the instant they saw the disgusting froglike creatures in front of them. Kappa Demons, the original vampires of the world and creatures that had no business being outside of a lake. She had dealt with them on numerous occasions and knew they were the basis for the legendary Dracula.

  Their skin was scaly and covered with a sticky layer that was poisonous to the touch, which meant they had to be incredibly careful not to touch them. That wasn’t the actual danger, though. If a Kappa Demon bit a person, and they survived, the person very slowly began to take on the attributes of the demon. The victim became little more than a blood slave to the creature’s wishes, or they could simply tear a person’s throat out and drink the blood.

  There were eleven of the slimy, disgusting creatures. A hiss echoed in the small space, and she watched as two Kappas dropped the young man’s body that they had been holding. Blood didn’t trickle from the wound because they’d drained it. Four beady black eyes locked onto her, and she turned and saw three more demons staring at Philippe. They weren’t moving, though.

  She wasn’t going to give them a chance. Without warning to Philippe, she threw her dagger at the closest and pegged it in the chest. It's inhuman scream grated her ears, and she fumbled as she pulled the pack of throwing stars from her skirt waistband.

  Philippe cursed, and yet the creatures didn’t move. They were staring betwixt the two of them, tiny black eyes moving back and forth whilst their fangs dripped copious amounts of the poison that could turn a person.

  With a flick, she threw two throwing stars and took down both, one in the center of the head and the other in its leg.

  “Two dead, one injured. Don’t you think if you little fucks are going to attack its time?” Venom of her own dripped in her voice. She didn’t do well when cornered by a bunch of demons, and these were easy kills, even if they were dangerous.

  As if her words sparked something, one of them raised a scrawny green arm and pointed it at her. “That one!” Its voice was oddly human, despite its hiss and appearance. In the span of a heartbeat, the remaining demons moved and rushed her, utterly ignoring Philippe.

  She grabbed two of the throwing stars and let the others drop to the floor. Holding them as carefully as she could, she lashed out with both hands to cut away at the creatures. The blades still bit into her palms, but she couldn’t focus on that. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Philippe grab a demon and stab it before throwing it into the fence. She cried out as one sunk its fangs into her ankle. Instinct took over, and she kicked her foot, sending the Kappa flying.

  She hadn’t stopped swinging her arms, and she felt the slowed movement as one of the stars sliced through demon flesh. She saw the blood spitting out over her, and the other demons cried out as one, as Philippe continued attacking. One pushed the throwing star into her hand, and she yelped and dropped it. When she was shaking the pain off, another demon latched onto her wrist.

  She would never forget the sensation. The strange way she could feel her blood being almost suctioned out of her body like the strange blood transfusions the physician sometimes did. It wasn’t painful, but it was utterly different feeling. Her eyes focused only on the creature biting her wrist, and another bit and sucked on her thigh.

  Philippe grabbed the one on her wrist and pulled so hard she couldn’t help but scream as the skin ripped from her arm. Then, as quickly as the attack began, the remaining six stopped and ran off into the night.

  She could feel the blood dripping down her arm, and she raised her hand above her head.

  “What the hell was that?” Philippe wasn’t looking at her just yet, his head was darting around, and she suspected he was looking for the creatures or to see if they’d drawn attention.

  She sucked in a breath as dawning sunk in. She had been bitten three times, and they’d drunk from her twice. She was either going to die or become one of them. Bile rose in her throat, and she choked to push it down. She would not appear weak, not right then.

  “Philippe.” He was muttering to himself in French and still not looking at her. “Philippe!” she snapped, and his head whipped around to look at her. She saw in his expression the moment he saw the bites. “I’ve been bitten.”

  The world began to roll as the confession came out. Whether it was from poison or her own fear, Odette didn’t know. Once bitten, nothing could be done—nothing they knew about at least. Her knees trembled and gave out. Philippe tossed his body under hers, and she landed on his chest, which felt as hard as the cobblestone street from his muscles.

  “Come on, Odette. Wrap your arms around my neck. We’re taking you to my quarters, and I’ll call your father on the communicator. They have to work in the guild halls, and if not, I’ll shout and holler until someone hears me and finds him.”

  She felt it as Philippe rose up under her and cradled her body in his arms as he carried her. She was woozy, she knew it was the venom, and all she could do was pray she wouldn’t die. Turning took time, and maybe Lucius or Greyston could help her, but dying…dying was instant.

  Odette closed her eyes and held back the urge to vomit as she felt the pounding of Philippe’s feet as he ran.

  “Just hang on, Odette. Do not die on me.”

  His voice shook with an emotion she hadn’t heard before, and she wasn’t certain if she was making it up from the venom, or it was fear that she heard trembling in his voice.

  Seven

  His thoughts were frantic as he watched over Odette. They’d only been inside for a quarter of an hour, but she had dropped off into a sleep so deep, he had had to check for a heartbeat twice already.

  Philippe put his hands on his face and angrily dragged his nails over his forehead. He felt powerless. Utterly, completely helpless. His communicator, as he had feared, did not work within the guild walls. They’d done something with the construction that seemed to interfere with the magnet signal, which made no sense since they could reach people inside from outside. Odette moaned in pain on the bed, and he growled at the still unopened door.

  He’d shouted for at least five minutes for the nearest Acolyte to grab their master. Surely by then, whomever they reported to had had time to get to Odette’s father. Yet the door to his chambers remained closed and none had knocked.

  His eyes flitted nervously from the old, brown door to the beautiful woman on his bed. He hadn’t even bothered to clean the angry, red blood trails off her body. He was afraid to touch anything that may speed up whatever she was going through. Her skin was pale, much like that of a Pure or Fallen Angel, and the blood was a vibrant streak that could not be ignored. The wounds were not oozing, which meant the disgusting demons had begun to drain her.

  Which means they want her for their own. “Which goes along wonderfully with why they had such a calculated attack,” he muttered under his breath and began to pace the small open space of his room.

  It had been a coordinated assault. There was no doubt. In his time at the London guild, he’d been told no one, aside from Lucius, had ever dared to attack the guild itself. Which meant the demons were getting aggressive and confident, two things that could spell nothing but trouble for the alliance. They had, after a few moments, seemed to know Odette though, so the attack was some overdue hit from Baltimore.

  He sat on the edge of the bed, and though he didn’t know why, he protectively put a hand on Odette’s leg. She was burning with fever, and yet, felt cooler to the touch than right after the attack. Slowly, he stroked his hand up and down her leg, trying to bring her any tiny morsel of comfort. He’d been bitten a week before and had been torn up in the past. He knew what it felt like, but he’d never encountered poison. They were helpless until the night passed—until the poison either claimed her life or claimed her mind.

  “Why her?” Whilst the attack had been a definitive strike, they creatures hadn’t gone for them right away. He closed his eyes, pictured the small corridor betwixt buildings and re
called the green, froglike creatures with their backs to the fence as their eerie, small, black eyes moved from side to side. They had been analyzing him and Odette. He had thought as much then, but recalling the memory, he was certain of it.

  Whether the Kappa Demons had come on their own or had been sent by someone more powerful—no doubt the Fallen—they had been confused at the beginning of their attack. There was no denying that they hadn’t been out to attack two members. Only Odette had been meant to suffer.

  The door to his chamber slammed into the wall, and his eyes flew open. A growl passed from him, and he leaned over Odette, prepared to protect her from whoever had barged in. Her father, the guild physician and two of the other masters—Phoebe, master of clockwork, and Tobias, master of metalworking—rushed in. The look on the Guildmaster’s face did nothing to settle Philippe’s personal fear that the attack had been meant to make her a blood slave.

  “What happened?” There may have been panic on his face, but Thomas held nothing but control in his tone of voice.

  “We were attacked. Well someone from the textiles guild was attacked. We moved in to help, but it was too late. Kappa Demons, eleven of them. It was the strangest thing, sir, they didn’t move at first. In fact, they almost appeared to be conversing before attacking Odette. None of them even bothered with me. They went straight for her.” Philippe grudgingly rose off the bed and stepped aside so her father could take his place.

  He didn’t touch his daughter, but his eyes moved up and down her as if he were surveying a great treasure. His hand hovered over the bite on her wrist, but he dared not even examine the wound closer. His shoulders slumped in defeat, something Philippe had never seen. The man ran the most critical group of people in the world, even if none knew of it. He had lost control the day of Lucius’ trial, which Philippe knew had been due to the attack on his daughter. That had been the only time in the twenty-six-year operation of their secret group that anyone had ever spoken of Thomas Agardawes showing any emotion aside from determination.

  Her father finally turned away from Odette and looked at him. “What of the bodies? I presume you killed some of them. The guild worker as well?”

  He felt his stomach flip. In his haste to get Odette up to his room, he’d left the scene unsecured. He hadn’t even called for help to clean up the mess. An untold number of people could have stumbled from pubs and come across it. His hands clenched, as did his jaw.

  This was why you don’t do women, Philippe. They cloud the mission.

  “I’m sorry, sir. They are still there. I did not think of anything, save for the two outcomes of the attack.”

  A curt nod was all the reaction he got before the others in the room were addressed. “See that it gets cleaned up and be careful of their skin. We have no way of knowing how their toxin works post mortem.” The two masters left, leaving only the physician.

  “Please, is there anything you can do?” The man, whose name Philippe had never bothered to learn despite the frequent visits, walked up the bed and shook his head. “I can’t examine her if I can’t touch her. Movement will spread the poison. If the goal was to kill her, I suspect even the slightest increase in her blood flow will bring her demise swifter. If they’d meant to turn her, as you explained on the way here, then there is nothing I can do for her.”

  “We’ve had them turned before. Not oft, but three occasions. They appeared fine after the attack. Days went by, a little less than a week in each instance before they began attacking people, draining their blood or luring them to waiting Kappa Demons. Only one was here, the others were in Japan.” Agardawes growled and punched the wall. “Why are these demons shifting geographical bounds?”

  Philippe cleared his throat. “We don’t know that they have bounds. We assumed a myth, a legend, was what dictated their location. There has to be more than one entrance to Hell, which means they can come anywhere.”

  “I think I liked you better when you spoke predominately in French.” Thomas gave a bitter laugh, and even Philippe did too.

  “Well, you seem to have an aversion to me speaking in a tongue not everyone can follow.” The room was somber. Odette had stopped moving, but no one made a move to check on her—there was nothing they could do. “So there is nothing that can be done? I was watching her, this falls on me. Tell me how to fix this, and I will do it.”

  “It’s not that simple, Philippe. We don’t have any knowledge on how to reverse it. In a sense, the best thing we can do is put her out of her suffering.”

  His hand had pulled the dagger up to the Guildmasters’s chest before Philippe even comprehended what he was doing. “No. There has to be something. If she was meant to die, start one of those transfusions. If the change is to happen, find out how to stop it. You have two demons here, one of them must have heard rumors!” his voice shook with fear and anger, the dagger in his hand wavered as well.

  The Guildmaster sighed, stood up from the bed and carefully walked around the blade until his boots were touching Philippe’s. “Do not think I take this lightly, boy. She is the last of my blood. She is my daughter, and I have lost more than any of you have ever even had in this war. She is doomed, Philippe. Her death is written in the sand inside an hourglass. One way or another, she will be dead before Mayday is upon us.”

  His chest heaved as hard and fast as her father’s with anger. Attacking the man would get them nowhere. Defeat snaked its way through his body, and his hand released the dagger, the hilt slamming into his boot before it landed on the floor. Master Agardawes put his hand on Philippe’s shoulder, and he saw tears shining in the man’s eyes.

  “I will not give up on her, sir. That is not what we do. We save the people of London from the demons.” Nothing was said as the Guildmaster slowly walked passed him. Anger battled with fear, and Philippe spoke, “What about the Angels? Surely if the rumors are true that they are the ones who revealed themselves to the Royals, that they are the real benefactors of this war, they will help.”

  Thomas turned, and the hope in his eyes felt like a sucker punch. He hadn’t meant to cause a false optimism. He just wasn’t ready to watch her die or to be the one to execute her if she changed.

  “Sir, I hadn’t meant—”

  “No, no my boy, you are right. They will help. They have to help.” The man’s mouth was set in a firm line, and Philippe had a feeling he wasn’t being spoken too, that the Guildmaster was just speaking. He’d turned around again, halfway to the door by the time Philippe had sat back down on the bed. “Stay with her. The Pure have to come. They can’t turn this request down. She means too much to them.” He sounded almost like a drunk on a rant.

  Philippe and the physician exchanged a worried look before the two men left.

  He was alone with her again. His heart ached seeing her so painfully still. The smallest rise and fall under her ear was the only sign that she was merely sleeping on her side and not gone from the world. It was improper, but no one would see his actions, so he laid himself next to her on top of the coverlet.

  He wanted to kiss the back of her neck, touch her in some way, and assure himself she wasn’t going to be dead by sunrise. There was a connection betwixt the two of them that he should’ve ignored, especially after it had interfered with him properly cleaning up from a demon attack, but he couldn’t quit on Odette Cosgrove. Not before they had even tried to see if that kiss could hold more for them.

  Philippe refrained from touching her and laid his head down on the pillow. “You’re going to need to wake up in the morning for me, Ms. Cosgrove. I have some things I need to discuss with you after almost losing you. You’re too strong for death. It doesn’t matter how well I know you or don’t know you. You survived when so many would have fallen apart or flown off half-cocked into the wind. I’ve watched you fight; you are a warrior. Ma belle felle, my beautiful girl. Fight this. I promise we will find a way to stop the change.”

  She made no indication of hearing his words, and he closed his eyes. He was determined
to fall asleep so that when morning came, and she did indeed awaken, he would be there to do whatever was necessary to save her. He had failed to protect her, and he’d failed to protect himself from falling for her. Not saving her life was not an option.

  Seraphina hummed as she licked Izazal’s blood off her fingers. She might not be sleeping with him anymore, but she still needed to trade blood with him. The connection that caused her to fall was also the only one that commanded allegiance to her once the Pure finally made the decent.

  They were not vampiric, the taste of the blood was bitter against her tongue and her eyes crossed as she sucked each finger into her mouth. She could have drunk from him, as she had Demetrious, but that was far too intimate, and not a mistake she would be repeating.

  When she finished, she locked her eyes on his dark brown ones. “And how many Fallen have we created now?”

  He looked mildly uncomfortable and shifted a step away from her, closer to his bitch Muriel. Seraphina was beginning to dislike having created her, but revenge had been the only motive behind making her fall.

  “Thirteen in the past six months. It goes far slower without your expertise. I fear we need more training in the art of torture, they do not bend to our will as quickly.”

  She rose off the chaise lounge and crossed the room to stare at the map of London she’d drawn on the wall. Her eyes followed over every street, every alley until they landed on the Alliance. If the Pure hadn’t rejected her, she wouldn’t have needed to make Pure Angels fall once she’d chosen to exact revenge for their failure in the battle sect centuries ago. Yet, with the humans helping the Pure ones, they needed to be stronger in ranks. Compulsion wasn’t enough if there were thousands of humans against them.

  She didn’t turn to look at the pair, just stared daggers into the black star that represented the Alliance of Silver and Steam headquarters. “That’s because they have no emotional connection to you.” She turned and looked at Izazal and Muriel, disgusted at the way their hands were clasped together. “Yet you were among them more recently than me, and I thought their bond with you would be stronger than their hatred of me. Perhaps, perhaps I was wrong.”