The Accords Triptych (Book 2): Bloodstream

by Ian Thomas

  Mills could tell the other man was holding his tongue. With quite some effort apparently.

  “You too. Thanks for looking after Bex and Rowan. Seems she got quite the education.” Was that a subtle dig, Mills wondered. He didn’t know the people well enough to gauge it properly.

  “And this is…Mills,” Rebecca said, making a face at never having caught his first name.

  “Hey,” he said, extending a hand to McLachlan.

  “Hey, really sorry to hear about your loss.” Mills was taken aback. Not that Rebecca had told him, but that their first interaction was so…human.

  “Yeah, thanks, so you’re the vessel?”

  Somerset stiffened next to him.

  “Stain and all,” McLachlan said, barely flinching.

  “Sorry this is all new to me.”

  “Makes two of us,” Rebecca said with a smile.

  Eyes wide, McLachlan turned to Rebecca more animated than before. “Hey, so remember when we were playing ‘not gonna show’ and you thought these guys were a no show?”

  “Uh,” Rebecca said, awkwardly looking at Somerset and Mills.

  “Who was my pick?” he asked urgently.

  “Uh,” she said, then the answer seemed to dawn on her. “Oh. Right. But your stain?”

  “Not an issue with these two,” he blurted. “And thanks?”

  Blushing, she turned to Mills and Somerset. “Hey, why don’t we get you two gentlemen a drink. Over here. By the window.” She hustled them deeper into the party. Within a second or two, Mills had a cold beer in one hand and something rolled in rice paper in the other.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “So are you staying in the city?” she countered quickly.

  “Am I missing–” Mills started but was cut off as Milton joined them.

  “This is some swanky affair,” Milton said. “Swanky is such an odd word.”

  “What number’s that?” the detective asked, looking at the glass in Milton’s hand.

  “Enough to still read the room my good man.”

  “So you were telling me about your plans in the city,” Rebecca prompted as Siobhan walked over.

  “Anyone want to head up to the roof?” she asked suddenly.

  “In that wind?” Mills demanded, his temper flaring. “Ten minutes ago, you all but disappeared and now you’re back and all Chatty Cathy. What the hell is going on?”

  “That,” Somerset said, tapping Mills on the shoulder and gesturing behind them.

  Turning, Mills blood ran cold. The pale faces were unmistakable. Vampires. Two of them. His hand clutched at the cross around his neck as he studied them, all sound drowned out save his thundering pulse. One was a man. Tall, elegant, long dark hair swept back into one of those man-bun things, smiling as he shook hands with Eddie. Rowan and the man she was with outside, joined them, the air light. McLachlan was nearby, casting a nervous glance in Mills’ direction. Next to the man was a dark-haired woman, her face bright and smiling. Apart from their pale skin, they looked very…normal.

  As the introductions wound down, the male vampire scanned the room. When his eyes fell in their direction, he smiled broadly and started walking over.

  “Somerset!” he called, McLachlan trying to keep pace with him. “It’s been an age!”

  “Gracchus,” the old man replied. “Good to see you. And is that the lovely Sabine. Please reacquaint me.”

  Smoothly, Somerset drew the vampire regent away without drawing attention to his ploy.

  “Sorry,” McLachlan said. “Really didn’t expect him to show.”

  “Then why was he inv–”

  “How’s everyone doing over here?” a man asked entering the group. Mills couldn’t tell if it was a general question or attached to the vampires’ presence.

  “Been better,” Rebecca replied, her hand on Mills’ back.

  “I don’t recognize you,” the man said with a smile, extending his hand. “Matteo.”

  “The Pack Lord,” Mills said awestruck. This was the head of all werewolves. In the world. And he was concerned about causing offense.

  “Well you know the party’s dead when vampires show up,” a British man announced, walking over to the group. “Because vampires are dead.”

  “Didn’t need explaining,” Matteo muttered, looking stricken.

  “Rhys Blackthorne,” the man said, shoving his hand forward to no one in particular.

  “Rebecca Miller,” she replied, taking his hand and leading him away from the group. “Which part of London are you from?”

  “She is a legend,” Matteo sighed. “One more minute of that man and…well we’d be down one British wolf.”

  “No thanks,” McLachlan said. “That’d leave that prick Will in charge.”

  “Good point. So,” Matteo looked around the three Clan members, “how’re things up at the chapter house?”

  ●●●

  “Sheffield,” Blackthorne replied.

  “Oh, yes, lovely part of the country. So green,” Rebecca said, unsure why she stranded herself with the man. She really needed to stop playing the peacemaker of the group. And referring to them as a ‘group’ seemed a little presumptuous considering her and McLachlan had only just been going out a month or so. Probably should know that more accurately, she thought. But then surviving a demonic cult uprising will generally bond people pretty quick or so she imagined.

  “This must all seem quite strange to you, mustn’t it?” he asked.

  “Sorry what now?”

  “The supernatural. Well you’re clearly not. Supernatural that is.”

  “No, me? No, just regular old natural me,” she replied. “And yeah strange is a…word.”

  He laughed at that. “And yet you still manage to keep a sense of humor.”

  Rebecca thought about her reply, the words not coming as easily as she would like. Especially given how often this topic was broached.

  “It’s early days,” she said. “I’m still new to this. I’ve seen one act of strange. It was crazy-ass strange given how normal my life is but it’s nothing compared to what you’ve seen. Like I said I’m new here. I have no history. I’m playing catching up.”

  “How was matter with the Cult?” he asked. Way to downplay it dude, she thought. ‘Matter’ was almost offensive given what she’d seen and the fallout afterwards.

  “How was the Pack War?” she threw back defensively. Then realized he had been on the ‘other’ side in the war.

  He took a breath. “You’d think with old age – the ages we can reach – that wisdom would be bountiful. Sadly that’s not always the case.” Standing in front of the window and looking into the street, Rebecca found him hard to read. “The Pack War was a mistake. Too many died for nothing. Not to say that Thomas was the right leader. No one took the boy prince seriously. The only good thing to come from the war was Matteo as Pack Lord.”

  Rebecca was taken aback. Granted everything she’d heard about Blackthorne over the past few days had been second or third hand observations from McLachlan, but she had never expected to hear such a compliment from him.

  “Weren’t you on the opposing side?”

  “Yes,” he sighed. “A devastating error in judgment that I can’t live down. And I shouldn’t for that matter.”

  “An error in judgment? People died.”

  “On both sides my dear,” he said sharply, turning to glance at her. A reminder he was a great deal older and better versed in the ways of the world than she. Devastating errors in judgment notwithstanding. “But that’s the past and this is the present. And the interim has seen Matteo become the leader we have so desperately needed.”

  “Funny, Ben had much the same idea.”

  “Ben’s actions were reprehensible,” Blackthorne spat angrily.

  “I don’t disagree,” she replied, surprised at the rhetoric she was privy to. “But like I said I’m new. And playing catch up. How does someone who fought on the opposite side become pro-Matteo. Given how thi
ngs ended up, didn’t it come down to you or him?”

  “Not even remotely,” he said softly. “He accomplished so much to bring that war to a close and while blood was still spilt, it could have been far worse.”

  “The accords? Isn’t that an affront to the purity of wolves?”

  “The different communities all talk a big game of world domination and supreme rule, but none have had the chutzpah to actually do anything about it,” he scoffed. “Thus the opposite. Working together. Uniting. Well, that was unthinkable. And yet remarkably effective.”

  “Even the vampires?” Rebecca asked, having read of the long-standing ire between wolves and vampires.

  “Even the vampires. They were used as much as anyone else for megalomaniacal ends. That will draw a degree of sympathy.”

  “But doesn’t it grate people that McLachlan – an independent if you will – brought about the accords.”

  “Not really.” He sneered at the notion. “Looking from the outside in allows for objectivity. That was something our kinds could never achieve. I applaud the man. It’s not every day an altruist can make such idealism a reality. And not to be reductive of his efforts but the accords would not have been possible without Matteo bringing him into his inner circle.”

  So this is what dumbfounded feels like, Rebecca thought, having always expected it to be far more comical.

  “Why am I the only person around when these things happen?” she asked frustrated.

  He laughed, his smile warm. “This isn’t some great secret.”

  “Oh, you mean I get to live after this? Phew.”

  “Do you know how exhausting it is being the Big Bad Wolf?” he asked. “It’s a lotta huffing and puffing. And I don’t even like pork. Bacon yes, pork no.”

  “And then there’s the pesky girls in red hoods, the woodsman, and really could you eat an old woman whole? Really?”

  He drew in a sharp breath. “Oh see now things got awkward.” Rebecca’s eyes widened, the mental image quite gruesome. “I’m kidding. Sorry.”

  “No, I deserved that,” she said, oddly comfortable with the man. From what McLachlan had told her she had expected anything from a Bond villain to a mustachio-twirling menace chewing up the scenery.

  “There you are,” McLachlan said, walking over. “Minor crisis averted. All’s good. Mouth even made a new friend.”

  “Hey,” she said, kissing him.

  “I was singing your praises,” Blackthorne said, extending his hand to McLachlan. “Your work on the accords was exemplary. Truly revolutionized our world.”

  “Uh.”

  “And I was sorry to hear about your fracas with this damnable cult. You have my services should they ever move on your again.”

  “Uh.”

  “Thanks. That’s the word you’re looking for.” Blackthorne muttered stiffly.

  “Thanks? I mean thanks. And hey sorry about trying to kill you during the Pack War. Nothing personal, ya know.”

  “Of course. Now I really should call on Gracchus. Haven’t seen the old fang in about a century. Between the three of us I used to carry quite a torch for his female love.”

  “Right so I’m gonna go and check on Hayley,” Rebecca said after Blackthorne walked away. “She’ll be stressing but she’s done an amazing job.”

  “She really has.”

  “And there’s the whole walking away so you can watch me walk away thing as well,” she said with a cheeky smile and sashayed off in search of Hayley. She hoped her exit was sexy but had a mental image of the elephant ballerina scene from Fantasia.

  ●●●

  McLachlan watched Rebecca walk away, enjoying the curves of her body shifting beneath the fabric of her dress. Given that she had welcomed the ogling he didn’t feel so bad.

  However, his attention soon moved to Blackthorne. The Englishman was leaning against the bar, having his glass topped up. Reeling, McLachlan was unsure whether he was more stunned at the compliment he had been paid or trying to apologize for almost killing Blackthorne in the war.

  “So you’re McLachlan,” James said, appearing before McLachlan. “I kinda figured ye’d be taller.”

  “James? Right?”

  “Aye.”

  “I kinda need to see some people.”

  “And I get that but see if I came all the way across the pond and didn’t meet the legend that is McLachlan, Dylan would be a little sore at me.”

  “What now?” McLachlan said, turning back to James.

  “Ya heard me,” his voice firm.

  “You. One of Blackthorne’s wolves. You know Dylan?”

  “Aye, he’s bin living wit me since he came back from that shit-fight you had wit tha cult o’ yours.”

  “Living? Wait. What the actual fuck?!”

  “He said ye were a little sharper on the uptake than this. I gotta say I’m a little disappointed.”

  “Oh I’m sorry if my complete shock at discovering my very non-supernatural younger brother is bunking down with Irish O’Wolfhound stunted my trademark quips and banter.”

  “Now, tat’s more like it,” James said with a smile.

  “Fuck you.”

  “Now, now, I come in peace.”

  “Says anyone who doesn’t.”

  James pushed closer to McLachlan, his voice lowered. “I’m no’ like me sire. Nor mah pack.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “Because I’m mah own person. I ne’er wanted this life. I had a future. A family. They stole that.” He took a breath to calm himself. McLachlan saw his intense pain beneath the surface and drew him to a quiet area of the loft. “I was sired for the Pack War. Fodder for a fight I didn’t believe in. That was five years ago. I’ve tried to build something of a life for myself since.”

  “Why Dylan?”

  “Because o’ you,” James said. “And your accords. I thought if someone had the nouse to make something good out of this violence and suffering then maybe that was someone worth getting to know. Thing is so did Blackthorne. Didn’t take him much to find out bout Dylan.”

  “Still doesn’t explain your rooming situation.”

  “You were a threat. All of Matteo’s supporters were. You in particular. To them at least. Me, I thought you made a lotta sense. So I offered to shadow Dylan, took a job in his law firm, get close, keep tabs, that kinda shite. Thing is no one knew about the deep bollocks he’d put himself in. No’ even me. I just knew he was ya family. And now he’s mine.”

  “And how does he feel about that?”

  “Ah now ya see that’s where it gets a little murky. He doesn’t know. No one does. They’re all a little unblemished by our world. This crazy shite. I plan to keep it that way.”

  “With a wolf in their midst?” McLachlan challenged.

  “To be fair, it’s no’ the best plan but it’s the only one I have. And I don’ think that scrubber of an ex-girlfriend o’ his is any the wiser.”

  “Don’t. Underestimate Julie,” McLachlan warned.

  “I won’t. I’m no’ an eejit. What d’ya take me for? Wait don’t answer that.”

  “So he’s good?”

  “No’ really. Kinda. He’s better than he was. He’s no’ living a double life anymore so that’s a good thing, but he’s displaced. Without purpose. And ye know that brain o’ his doesn’t like a lack of direction.”

  “Wow, you really do know him.”

  “I told ye. He’s mah family now.”

  Still reeling from the revelation that a corner of the supernatural had folded into his brother’s life, McLachlan took a seat on the sofa. James sat next to him. The affable Irishman open to talking about his friend and their London family. With each word, McLachlan felt assured of his brother’s safety and developing happiness in the wake of Julie. Figuring he was getting an edited and sanitized version of Dylan’s life post-Ordeal, for the most part Dylan had a life, friends and career of his own. He really had become his own person.

  “Looks like it’s time to go,”
James said as the crowd started to thin. Will was scowling in a corner, Liam standing desultorily nearby while Blackthorne was talking animatedly with Gracchus and Sabine.

  “Thank you,” McLachlan said. “He’s a handful, but generally a good one.”

  “That he is. Anyway it’s been a real pleasure to meet ya,” James said, shaking his hand and starting to walk away. “Still thought ye’d be taller though.”

  Unsure how to respond, McLachlan was rescued by Eddie who appeared with a bottle of red wine. “What was that about?”

  “I’ll tell you later,” McLachlan replied.

  “Oh, this is for you an Bex. Hayley’s orders.”

  McLachlan accepted the wine and looked at his friend’s exhaustion. “How’re you holding up?”

  “Good, yeah. Just ready to sleep for a week.”

  “Helluva party.”

  “All down to Hayley. We owe her big time.”

  “Yes you do,” she said, sliding an arm around Eddie’s waist. McLachlan could tell they wanted to kiss. Instead, she dropped her head onto Eddie’s shoulder. “And we still have the clean-up to do.”

  “Tomorrow,” Eddie said, looking at her with admiration. “I’ve booked you a room at The Mercer. Late check out too. Bex threw some stuff in a bag for you. Hope that’s okay?”

  “Uh, sure,” she replied, taken aback. McLachlan knew she wanted to ask if Eddie would be joining her but the Victorian courtship was continuing to play out before him.

  “Go. Get some rest.” Eddie kissed her cheek tenderly. “And thank you again.”

  ●●●

  But she didn’t leave straight away. Eddie watched as she moved between the caterer and the bar staff, giving final instructions before engaging with Mouth and Max by the elevator.

  “You’re going to the hotel as well, right?” McLachlan asked.

  “I wasn’t planning on it. I mean I want to but I just don’t…”

  “Just go. Put the ball in her court. See what happens.” McLachlan left him in the middle of the room, eager to join Rebecca and the group at the elevator.

  What harm could it do, Eddie thought.