"But you told me that she Changed What Was. That doesn't sound like anything less than one of the Mighty."
"Either that or the Vhanaraszh—but—you're right. This is the shining woman, and the Vhanaraszh might not be capable of some of the things I've known her to accomplish. I'm just not thinking straight today. The love of my life is sitting in a bedroom at the house, and all she can do is shake, cry and refuse to eat. I think I want to separate Norian Keef's particles over this. Trace says she seemed fine before he and Schaff questioned her. She attempted suicide shortly after that, and physically, Franklin says she's fine."
"What about a shrink?"
"Got one coming in this afternoon. I don't know what he might do with this, unless he's got wonder drugs. I can't seem to do anything about it."
"That sucks."
"Yeah. Seen Sali today?"
"Off on the northwest edge," Randy replied. "With Marco and Cori."
* * *
"Got a body, here," Trevor's newest assistant deputy pointed out the trash container where the dismembered body had been found by a casino employee.
"Any ID?" Trevor could smell the body from twenty feet away.
"Zint Dorn," the deputy handed a comp-vid to Trevor after researching fingerprints.
"Hasn't been here long," Trevor said, reading through Zint's records. "Says he was employed by The Starstrike Casino. What's the cause of death?"
"I can't say for sure, until forensics takes a look. At the moment, I can't say whether his arms and legs were ripped off before his heart was torn out, or vice-versa."
"Nasty way to die, either way," Trevor shook his head. "Get him hauled off to the morgue and get the lab to send me a report as soon as they have it."
"I will."
* * *
Breanne's Journal
I knew it the moment Zint Dorn's image floated onto the vid-screen inside Queen Lissa's office. I was sitting at her desk after hours, working on disbursements and watching the news at the same time. Zint was Erithia's trained puppy, and chances are he'd run afoul of her temper in some way. She wasn't a nice person—I'd gotten that from my brief reading of her. Squaring my shoulders, I resolved to go hunting again as soon as I finished the pile of requests before me.
* * *
"My love, I cannot say how happy I am to be with you again." Rathik Erwin kissed Erithia's hands—several times, as he fawned over her. Thankfully, Erithia still had a small stable of rogue Ra'Ak at her command, and they only moved if she commanded it. They were ordered to stay hidden, otherwise.
This one was capable of getting past the shields surrounding Le-Ath Veronis, and that wasn't a simple thing to do. She'd commanded him to bring Rathik to her, to replace Zint. Erithia hid her disgust at Rathik's touch as he continued to kiss her hands.
* * *
Breanne's Journal
"What do you want?" I'd been working on the final disbursement when Kalenegar the Disgusting appeared, made himself smaller and slid onto a guest chair in the Queen's office.
"Was that you? In those vids?"
"I'm not saying," I tapped figures into my comp-vid.
"Need I tell you how foolishly asinine that was?"
"You don't have to tell me anything. Asinine is as asinine does. I think you've got that whole asinine thing locked up. Anything I can do is just frosting on the brownie."
"Please do not share your food idioms with me."
"Look, I'm sure you got some tasty sunlight somewhere for dinner. I got blood substitute. You have no idea what I'd do for chocolate right now."
"Next time, disable the cameras or I shall be forced to punish you again. I wished to do it this time, but Graegar intervened."
"Then I owe Graegar," I muttered, tapping send on my comp-vid and closing the program. "You, on the other hand," I looked up at him for the first time since he'd arrived, "I owe nothing to you, unless it's a good ass-kicking. Get out. I have things to do."
"None, including the Vhanaraszh, tell me what to do." My head felt as if it had been split open as Kal the asshole Larentii disappeared.
* * *
"Can I get you something?" The man behind the desk at the small Visitor's Assistance counter blinked at me in concern. I'd misted to Casino City with a splitting headache, regretting it immediately afterward—the headache was worse.
"Any painkill?" I asked, wondering as I asked whether it would do any good to take it if he did.
"I have packets of painkill," he nodded sympathetically. He looked young, and I held my shield in place so his life wouldn't pass before my eyes. Brown hair, hazel eyes and a nice nose met my gaze instead as he rummaged in a bin below the counter, coming up with a small packet containing two painkill tabs. A cup of water came next, and he stood by as I tossed back both tabs and downed the water in a few gulps.
"Thanks," I said, attempting to smile. With my head pounding as hard as it was, it probably resembled a grimace instead of a frown.
"Too much to drink?" He lifted an eyebrow.
"I wish," I replied and walked out of the tiny Visitor's Assistance Center.
Erithia Cordan had owned and operated the Comet's Tail Casino, and I'd already been there four times, looking through the whole place for her. That included six hundred guest rooms, which currently held nine hundred guests. Who knew where she was? Nevertheless, I looked again, hoping she'd return to the scene of the crime. On my previous trips, I hadn't thought to dig through the attic. I decided to check that while I waited for the painkill to kick in.
Dimly lit, the space was mostly open—there wasn't any need for walls here. It was storage space and little else. What interested me, however, was the large table, more suited to a boardroom than an attic, which took up a corner space. Chairs lined both sides, as if waiting for a meeting to commence. One might assume that it was moved from this meeting room or that when it was needed. It didn't have a bit of dust on it, either. That might not be unusual, if it had been used recently.
Sniffing around it, I encountered mostly humanoid scents, until I reached the last chair on the far side. Hair lifted on my head and neck. Prescience kicked in and I realized that Rathik Erwin, the fucking weasel, had sat there. Not only had he sat there, he'd sat there recently. As in hours, not days or weeks. If he'd ever made it off the planet, he was back now.
Later, I held my head in my hands as I sat atop a building housing luxury condos, working to piece a puzzle together that defied logic. Sighing, I realized that my headache, which the painkill barely dulled, would prevent me from working anything out at the moment. I needed sleep, but it wouldn't come as long as the headache Kal had given me pounded against my skull. Silently I cursed him as I gathered what strength I could and misted back to the palace.
* * *
Lissa's Journal
"What the hell is that?" I asked as the dust cloud continued to blow in our direction.
"I don't like this," Merrill came and took my elbow. Adam was already beside Kiarra, prepared to take her away.
"But what is it?" I said as the wind began to scream around us and the first grains of sand blew into our faces. I threw up a shield, as did Kiarra and the others. Our barriers had absolutely no effect—the winds and sand sailed right through them. Kiarra screamed as she was buffeted by winds so strong Adam had to hold her upright.
How the hell is this possible? I sent mindspeech to my Saa Thalarr companions. Suddenly terrified that none of our abilities might work against this aberration, I turned away from fiercely blowing grit that threatened to scrape away exposed skin. What happened next might only occur in nightmares or horror films. Merrill folded me out of there; if he hadn't, my skin might have been flayed from my body while I attempted to get to the cause of a shrieking sandstorm on a portion of a world where there was no sand.
* * *
"I can't get through to Belen." Kiarra dropped onto the sofa beside me, dressed in a robe with a towel wrapped around her white-blonde hair. She and I had been transported to Adam's ancestral ho
me in Kent, and all of us had raw skin from the sudden sandstorm, which should never have happened.
I'd hurried through a shower, and Joey, kind soul and healer that he is, had worked to fix the raw scrapes on exposed skin. Norton, one of Joey's mates, put his hands on Kiarra and was doing the same for her. Bearcat, another of Joey's mates and a former Saa Thalarr, helped Adam and Merrill with raw wounds. They'd protected Kiarra and me from the worst of it, after all, before getting us away.
"You think that was the reason so many died? Freak sandstorms that shouldn't even happen?" I blinked at Kiarra.
"It might explain a lot," she nodded wearily. "We didn't find a bit of skin or hair around the bones of those gryphons, and there should have been."
"All that got sanded away? That's horrible," I muttered.
"Belen has me worried, now," Kiarra sighed.
"Sweetheart, he'll get back to you. He always does," Adam said. "Come here. I'll hold you."
"It's his week," Joey said quietly next to my ear as Kiarra gripped the robe around her and went to Adam, who sat on an identical sofa on the opposite side.
"Huh?" I blinked at Joey as he healed a raw place on my arm.
"They get weeks. Each mate. It's a good system."
"Well, that might work if you only have three," I snorted. Joey laughed.
* * *
"Grampa, I hear she can read anyone in a matter of seconds. She has mindspeech, too. If they're planning to up their price, she can tell us that with very little effort. You can make an informed decision after that."
"I grow tired of this blackmail," Glendes Grey muttered as he rose from his desk to pace. "Forty years of payment, and still they threaten to expose us. Those spells were foolproof; I checked them myself. Yet here we are, bleeding Grey House to shut them up and to keep our other clients from losing faith in our work."
"Grampa, perhaps it's time we informed the other wizards. We've worked them mercilessly to make up for what Bexari takes from us." Shadow Grey offered the Eldest of Grey House an imploring look.
"I know as well as anyone that we're exhausting our wizards."
"And they have no idea why, Grampa."
"I know that, too. I chose to tell only the Master Wizards, thinking there would be no need to tell the others. Our original agreement with Bexari was for twenty years."
"That was before the King's brother died and left that thieving nitwit of a Prime Minister in charge," Shadow growled. "And now it seems he wants even more money. I believe Grey House has become Bexari's sole source of income, and we bow beneath that yoke, just to save our reputation."
"You're suggesting that we ask for a preliminary meeting with Vyris, and bring this girl with us?"
"She's not a girl, she's a modified vampire and Shadow and I have already discussed this," Raffian, Shadow's father, stalked into Glendes' study and flopped wearily onto a chair. "What do we have to lose, Dad? Gavin can command her to keep quiet—we don't even have to tell him what our problem is. We'll just say it's a sensitive matter and ask him to place compulsion for her not to speak about it."
"You're sure of this?" Glendes lifted an eyebrow in Raffian's direction.
"We are, Grampa," Shadow assured Glendes.
"How soon can we get her, then? I'll contact the Prime Minister and ask for a preliminary meeting," Glendes agreed.
* * *
Breanne's Journal
"This is Shadow Grey, of Grey House." Gavin made grumbling introductions. "And his father, Raffian."
Although I already knew who they were, it always paid to be polite. Gavin's politeness was forced, however. Shadow and Raffian Grey looked very much alike, with dark hair and striking features. Raffian's eyes were dark, whereas Shadow's were a clear, blue-gray.
"They require your assistance with a private matter, and I order you to never speak of this with anyone." Gavin's compulsion would have given anyone else a headache. I already had a headache and his compulsion was worthless with me. Just as always, I pretended that wasn't so. I'd been hoping for a day of relative quiet in the Queen's study so I could process comesuli requests and attempt to rid myself of the headache I still bore from Kalenegar's visit. That wasn't to be—Shadow and Raffian Grey had seen to that.
"Come with us; we'll fold you to Grey House first and then elsewhere as needed," Raffian spoke for the first time. I had my shields up again, otherwise I likely could have read what he and his son wanted from me. My head hurt so badly, however, I retained the shield in self-defense after lowering it briefly to see who they were. That had been a mistake and I'd slammed the shield up again quickly.
It was a good thing I was already showered and dressed, too, because Gavin just wanted to see me leaving as quickly as possible. Raffian folded us to Grey House.
* * *
"Can't you see how much pain she's in?" A furious woman waited for us inside an opulent study at Grey House. I'd dropped to my knees the moment we'd arrived—somehow, I realized we'd passed through a power barrier to get where we were and it brought my headache to an unbearable level. If I hadn't been shuddering in pain, I might have contemplated how to make Kalenegar die.
"Cleo, we're not healers," Shadow muttered.
"Mostly you're clueless men," Cleo grumbled in response before kneeling before me and taking my head in her hands.
I think I will be forever grateful to Cleo for the healing, and I blinked into her gold eyes when the pain miraculously disappeared.
"Thank you," I whispered my gratitude as I worked to hold back tears of relief.
"You're welcome." She patted my shoulder and helped me stand. I discovered I was barely an inch or two taller than she. Help Daddy if you can, she whispered mindspeech into my mind. He thinks Kyler and I don't know. We do. We just can't interfere.
I'll do what I can—for you, I nodded slightly. I had my reasons, and some of them she might never know.
Thank you. Cleo inclined her head before stepping away. Lowering my shield, I got my first reading of Glendes Grey, Eldest of Grey House. He and the rest of the Grey House Wizards were being bled dry by blackmail, and the reputation of Grey House was on the line. I squared my shoulders—this was going to be difficult, perhaps—until I saw the blackmailer in person, I had no way of knowing if there were any way out of it. Grey House—and its reputation—stood to be destroyed.
Chapter 12
Prime Minister Vyris paced before the throne he'd taken for himself. He had no right to it, having no royal blood. He'd claimed the ornate chair, however, after he'd convinced the population that the only remaining heir—a distant cousin to the last monarch—wasn't fit to rule.
"Prime Minister, it is nearly time," his assistant suggested softly.
"They're going to stop payment," Vyris whined.
"We can destroy their reputation," Vyris' assistant pointed out.
"What if they no longer care?" Vyris muttered angrily. "We destroy their reputation; they retaliate by letting everyone know we blackmailed them. We have no exports—we've survived on Grey House money for years. Bexari will become destitute and isolated; you know what happened to Cloudsong."
"But what if there's something new to blackmail them with?" Vyris' assistant lifted an eyebrow.
"What are you suggesting?" Vyris was interested immediately.
"We'll need a sacrifice," the assistant smiled. "Someone we don't like, of course."
"Of course someone we don't like. Tell me your plan. Quickly."
* * *
"Yes, she is the Vhanaraszh, and a more inept and disappointing specimen I cannot imagine," Kalenegar muttered angrily.
"Strange, I've often thought the same of you," Hiragar eyed Kal speculatively. As eldest of the Wise Ones, Hiragar was much older than Kalenegar. "And you showed such promise when you were born. It has come to my notice that you continue to give punishment to the Vhanaraszh, for perceived infractions."
"Are you questioning my judgment?"
"Yes. I am. I would prefer that the Wise Ones take over th
e task of teaching her."
"You will not," Kalenegar snarled. "It is my duty to see that she understands her place."
"What is that place, then?" Hiragar seldom displayed emotion—it was unnecessary in most cases. The raised eyebrow, however slight, informed Kalenegar that Hiragar was very displeased. "The Vhanaraszh is not beneath you, Vhirilaszh. I ask that you remember that."
* * *
"Boss, Trajan's still pissed." Trace sat next to Ashe. Ashe had chosen one of the cliffs overlooking the small city located inside SouthStar. It housed all those brought from Star Cove in the past, in addition to a few others—Elemaiya that Ashe had gathered here and there, including many half and quarter-bloods.
"I know." Ashe kept his eyes on the small city beneath him. "I'd like to take it back, Trace, but I'm not that particular Mighty. Only one of us can Change What Was, and it's not me."
"You said it was the shining woman, and everybody knows she saved Ildevar Wyyld. Or at least the King of Serendaan and three of his wives." Trace shook his head.
"But very few realize she's likely one of the Mighty." Ashe turned star-filled eyes on Trace. "They have no idea—most of them. I worry that she is placing herself in danger. Luring those who want to destroy us in her direction. I thought she would be smarter than that."
"Then I guess it's a safe bet that she isn't the Mighty Mind, huh?"
"What did you say?" Ashe's eyes cleared and became their normal blue again.
"Just that she can't be Wisdom, if she's setting herself up as a target."
"Damn." Ashe wiped a hand down his face, leaving a deep frown behind.
"You think she's really in danger?"
"I was in danger," Ashe nodded. "I didn't know what I was for a while, and you saw how that almost turned out."
"What if it's the same for her—that she doesn't know what she is? What if she's fumbling along, just like," Trace didn't finish.
"You can say it, because it's true. I didn't have a clue for a while, Trace. I admit it. Sometimes, I still feel that way. I've wrecked whatever Trajan might have had, and now we're both miserable."
"Has Kevis been able to reach Kalia?"
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