by Jess Haines
“Go on,” he purred, “drink up. It’s what you’ve wanted to do all night, isn’t it? Drink until there’s nothing left.”
The vampire shook him again. “If you don’t shut up, I’m going to stuff an old sock in your mouth next. Can it and leave her the fuck alone.”
I met the necromancer’s too-interested gaze as I swiped the back of my hand down my jacket, wiping the blood off. He frowned, then shrugged, as if he hadn’t had some kind of investment in the outcome a moment ago.
Soo-Jin had warned against giving in to the urge for blood. I was starting to get the idea that it might make the monster inside of me come out to play if I gave in to the need.
That would, in turn, make me easier for Gideon to control. What a dick.
After successfully tamping down the urge to smack him upside the head again, I sidled closer to the door to peer inside. The smoke made it hard to see well enough to tell who was winning, but there were still plenty of bodies clashing, moving with inhuman speed.
Three figures were headed this way, shadowed by smoke and clinging to each other, edging around the fighting. I thought about going inside to work off a little steam, too, but better sense prevailed. I backed up a couple of paces until I was beside the vampire, drawing and leveling my gun at the doorway in case whoever was coming wasn’t on our side.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I snapped the safety back on and put it away as soon as I saw it was Iana, using her great strength to half carry, half drag Arnold and Sara on either side of her. The two of them were coughing and limp in her arms. I got on the other side of Sara, putting her other arm over my shoulder and helping her along until we were a good distance from the doorway.
Gideon and the vampire both watched us with avid interest as Iana and I helped Arnold and Sara settle on a nearby settee. Iana was breathing hard, but the blood on her hands and smearing her white robe weren’t hers. As soon as he stopped coughing so much, Arnold wrapped his arms around Sara, who clung to him, tears streaking down her pale cheeks.
“Oh,” Gideon said, his tone giving away his delight. “Oh, ho, ho! They’ve got it worse than I thought.”
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”
Gideon rolled his eyes, but obeyed the vampire. For the moment. The way he watched Arnold now was different and sent a pang of worry through me. Nothing that monster was planning could be any good. Not for the mage or Sara or anyone else.
Iana placed a hand between my shoulder blades, making me jump with the unexpected contact. Even with my heavy jacket between us, her blood ran hot enough to burn through the material. She sidled up beside me, her eyes alight with a deep golden glow as she stared down at Arnold. “Is this the one you promised me?”
The husky words might have sounded like desire coming from someone else. It was a type of desire, but there was nothing sexual in it. Just a deep and abiding longing for her freedom.
“Yes, that’s him. I think he needs a minute.”
“He does,” Arnold managed between coughs. Sara added a vehement nod, tightening her grip on him.
I backed off a bit, focusing on the doorway to give them a semblance of privacy. Not that they’d get it with Iana, Gideon, and the vampire all staring at them like bugs under a microscope.
Arnold sat up a bit straighter, his eyes going wide. Though still hoarse, his words were clear enough to send a chill through me.
“Shit. We need to move. Max found Kimberly and the others. We’ve got a serious problem.”
The sounds of fighting from the other room were still going strong. If I’d had one, I would have been tempted to pull out a stopwatch just to see how long they would keep it up. Considering the fight in Royce’s basement with Max had lasted half a night, it wouldn’t surprise me for this one to drag out for an hour or two as well. There was no way Angus, Soo-Jin, or any of the others would wrap that mess up in time to find Kimberly and the vampires who had gone with her.
Gideon cleared his throat. “I can help.”
The vampire smacked him on the back of the head. He cried out and shot forward, cheek and chest smacking against the opposite wall. He couldn’t catch himself, sinking to his knees with a groan.
Iana stalked over to him, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look up at her. “How can you help, dark one? I know what you are.”
“The mage is tapped. I can fix that. Once I fix that, he can fix you.”
I stood a bit straighter, tension building in my arms and shoulders. “That doesn’t sound right. Don’t trust him. Not with that.”
Gideon growled and fought the bindings on his wrist. “For fuck’s sake, I want Max dead as badly as you do. Fabian will never be mine as long as Max is alive to control him and take all his wealth in tributes. We want our freedom, just like you! Let me go and I’ll do whatever you want.”
Iana studied his face briefly, then smiled without humor. “It sounds like truth, but smells like deceit. Nice try, heartless thing. I know you for what you are. I see you.”
The necromancer inclined his head, his own smile sly but humorless, as much as admitting defeat. There was something comforting about knowing Iana was Other enough to smell his lies. At least one of us had that power. “Fine. Not all lies. Half-truths, maybe.”
“Come on. We don’t have time for this. Kimberly needs help,” Arnold said.
Iana frowned and shoved the necromancer down, leaving him to get up on his own off the floor. She stalked over to the mage, baring her teeth in a semblance of a smile. “Fine. Remove the collar and I will save this woman, assuming there is anything left to save.”
Arnold, holding Sara against him and stroking her hair, studied Iana. He reached up to nudge his glasses farther up on his nose, then gestured for her to come closer.
“I’m not too tapped for that. Turn around and kneel for me, please. And hold your hair out of the way.”
She did as instructed, practically vibrating with suppressed excitement. Arnold winced when he saw how red and raw the skin was around the collar. A few feet away, despite looking a bit put out, Gideon pretended not to watch and had taken to sulking in a crouch by the wall.
“We’ll heal this. When it’s off. When we get out of here, there’s someone—”
“If you remove it, that will not be necessary,” she said.
Arnold didn’t waste any more time with small talk. With one arm around Sara’s waist, he reached out to circle his fingers around the collar. He closed his eyes tight, an expression of intense concentration crossing his features. Iana didn’t move, but her eyes closed as well, her teeth bared in anticipation.
A sharp crack sounded. The metal grew dull, losing a sheen I hadn’t quite realized it had until it was gone, and it fell away to clatter on the floor.
Iana surged to her feet, her eyes and skin blazing with a warm, golden glow as she spread her arms. That warmth began gathering in her palms like she was holding growing balls of condensed sunlight. A low growl rumbled in her throat and rattled my bones like the thunder of a diesel engine as she turned her focus on the necromancer, who was making an effort to inch away from the pissed off Other leaning meaningfully in his direction.
“Don’t,” I warned. “We need him to find Max.”
She looked less than pleased and didn’t give any sign that she heard me. Instead, she took a step closer, her fingers curled into talons around the globes of light in her palms. Even the vampire was looking nervous by this point.
“Iana.”
She paused, fingers twitching, never once turning her fierce gaze off of Gideon’s cringing frame to focus on me.
“Listen to me. We need him. Now is not the time for this.”
Gideon, pale and shivering, bobbed his head up and down. “Right, I’m useful, remember? You need me.”
Her growl deepened in pitch, then cut off. The sense of a storm gathering around her, all crackle and electricity, faded. “So be it.” The light gathering in her hands disappeared like it had never been. She moved on the balls of her
feet, still too predatory for my liking, and yanked the necromancer around to slice through the bonds on his wrists with her nails.
The vampire dashed forward, grabbing their arms so neither could slip away. His features twisted in a what-in-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you glare I was more used to seeing being leveled in my direction.
He didn’t keep it up for long. Gideon’s free arm slid around until his palm—the one with the tattoo—rested over the vampire’s heart.
That was all it took. In the space of a breath, the vampire’s expression went blank, a chill wind with no origin I could detect sliding through the hall. Every hair on my body stood on end, an electric tingle skittering over my skin until I broke out in goose bumps.
The vampire loosened his grip on Gideon, and the necromancer took a step back, favoring Iana with a dazzling smile as he straightened the lapels of his suit jacket. All traces of his earlier fright were gone.
“Much better. Oh, don’t look so put out. I’ll let him go once I’m done with him. The girl, on the other hand . . .”
Sara made an inarticulate sound of protest and I gasped, somehow managing to be surprised at the necromancer’s duplicity. Arnold struggled to his feet, putting himself in front of Sara and raising his hands. Blue-white sparks crackled around his fingertips. Gideon laughed.
“Come on, now,” Gideon said, his grin widening. “You really want to see who has the bigger magical—or otherwise—cojones here? I promise you it’s me.”
The sparks whirling around Arnold’s hands were gaining speed and size. The need to find Max spurred me to move before he might do something we would all regret later.
I dashed forward and grabbed Arnold’s arm before he could cast whatever it was he was on the verge of hurling at Gideon. Arnold might have had the power of the cosmos at his fingertips, but his physical strength paled against mine, even before I was infected. He struggled a bit, then harder when Gideon started humming the strains of a song I recognized from all those times Arnold made me and Sara sit through it on game nights at his place. It was “Do You Wanna Date My Avatar.”
Sara spoke up, her voice hoarse and cracking with strain. “Don’t, Gideon. Please.”
The necromancer kept his gaze on Arnold for a long, strained moment. His focus flicked to Sara, following the line of her shoulder and arm, noting the way her fingers caught in Arnold’s jacket. Gideon rolled his shoulders and tilted his head back, his soft laughter making my skin crawl.
“I know, I know,” he said, throwing his arm across his eyes in an overly dramatic gesture I had seen him make before. “I’m why we can’t have nice things. What a world.”
“You promised you’d get us out of here,” I hissed.
Gideon looked at me, frowned, then started patting down his pockets with a faraway, thoughtful expression. After a moment of this, he shoved a hand in a back pocket of his jeans, groped a bit, then pulled it out. His face lit up as he triumphantly held up the invisible whatever it was pinched between his thumb and forefinger.
“Look at that! I found exactly one fuck to give. It is my gift to you.”
Arnold tugged against my grip again. This time I didn’t stop him. He went chest to chest with the much taller necromancer, glaring up at him. “Let her go!”
“I’ll think about it. Don’t worry. I have no intention of hurting anyone who doesn’t deserve it. Not tonight.”
Iana hissed. “Enough. I taste your lies. Cease your foolishness and use that magic of yours. Find him.”
Gideon gave her a raspberry, then turned away from the two, snapping his fingers. The vampire turned to follow him, glazed eyes focused on his back. Iana stalked after them, her anger a palpable thing.
Arnold and Sara were slower to follow. He waved me off when I tried to help, and I flinched under the accusatory look he leveled at me. I wanted to protest that none of this mess was my fault, but a teeny, tiny, hateful voice in the back of my head was giving a gleeful singsong rundown of all the reasons it was because of me.
It didn’t help that Iana and Gideon were moving at a much faster clip, not bothering to see if we were behind them. They’d outpace us and leave us alone, lost in this den of monsters to fend for ourselves if we didn’t hurry.
Then it occurred to me that if Gideon faced Max without me, Iana certainly wouldn’t do anything to keep the duplicitous little shit from becoming a smear on the wall. If he was hurt or killed, I didn’t even want to think about what that would mean for Sara’s health.
Fighting the creeping terror that thought inspired, I started to run to catch up with Gideon.
“Hey, wait up!”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Gideon led the way, Iana and his enchanted vampire minion following up the rear from either side. Though I was sure Iana would rather tear Gideon’s head off and play kickball with it, the effect made it look like he was in charge. I wondered how Max would view this situation, and how the hell I would keep him from killing Gideon out of hand.
At some point, Arnold and Sara fell too far behind for me to see them. The mage had said he could find us wherever we went, but I wasn’t sure if he just wanted to get me out of his sight or if he really meant it.
I was tempted to give in to panic and despair, but that wouldn’t help anybody, least of all Sara.
Iana stopped in her tracks so abruptly that I ran into her, sending us both stumbling forward a couple of steps. Her fingers closed around my upper arm so tight that it hurt. Gideon paused, glancing over his shoulder.
“Weapons,” she said.
“All I’ve got is the one gun. They wouldn’t let me have anything else,” I said, apologetic.
“No.” She shook her head. “We need to arm ourselves. I don’t have the strength to shift yet, and you need more than a pistol. Come, he has an armory on display.”
Couldn’t argue with that. Gideon opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but closed it with a snap once Iana got moving at a much faster clip. She led us through a room full of paintings and sculptures, an echoing, empty ballroom with at least a dozen crystal chandeliers reflecting the moonlight into a thousand tiny stars on the polished floor, and an indoor arboretum full of exotic flowers and ferns arranged in a labyrinthine maze. There were small lights here and there, but most of the place was dark, and I was afraid the shadows might be hiding more than just a couple of ornamental rosebushes.
We didn’t run into anybody along the way. I spotted security cameras here and there, tiny red lights or the sheen of a lens giving them away. Either everyone in Max’s employ was otherwise occupied, or Max didn’t care that we were running around unchecked. Neither option boded well for us.
We must have run half the length of the building before Iana led us into a room that looked like something out of an exhibit I had once seen at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The arms and armory display there had been full of swords, daggers, shields, helmets, and other kinds of armor. Max’s collection was similar, but rather than sticking with a particular theme or time period or even culture, he had a little bit of everything. Spears with bronze, iron, and stone tips, armor made of leather and metal and other materials I couldn’t immediately identify, knives with handles of stone, bone, and wood.
The difference between what I saw here and what I had seen in the museum was that each piece on display here still looked just as serviceable and dangerous as it must have been the day it was made. None of it was hidden behind display cases, either. All of the armor looked to be about the same size. Made for a man of Max’s proportions.
As I took a breath, aside from the scent of dust and metal and leather and oil, I could taste the old blood in the air. Long dried, long dead, and so much remembered violence radiated from these pieces that I could have choked on it if I breathed too deep. These weapons weren’t the purchases of a collector. They were trophies, retired reminders of a life of violence and a river of bloodshed. Lifetimes of it.
Iana viewed the place with distaste, her lip curled in a sneer as tho
ugh she’d gotten a whiff of something rotten. I had the feeling she was sensing the same thing I was. Maybe more than I, considering she was a far stronger Other than whatever I was turning out to be. Her senses were likely more attuned to these things in a way I would never experience.
Something told me that there was a history behind each and every piece in this room, and that if I held it long enough and breathed it in, the blood soaked into the material would tell me the story. My connection to the one who had worn and wielded these instruments of torture and murder would be enough to let it unfold like a grisly picture book in my head.
Never had I felt so ill at having a piece of Max inside me.
Iana studied the collection on the wall before selecting a short, double-bladed sword with some kind of raised line running down the flat of the blade. It was old. Ancient. Cast bronze, now myriad shades of green, but not so pitted or oxidized that the metal couldn’t hold an edge. The pommel was far newer than the rest of it, but even still, the leather around the grip was cracked and so faded that I couldn’t tell what the original color must have been.
She held it out to me expectantly. As soon as my hand closed around it, a jolt of something dark and hungry radiated off the blade. Countless images of angry, frightened faces, splashes of blood, and other things assailed me.
Hair like sunshine. Eyes like the sea. Taken away in a flash of red, replaced by the shadow of Rhathos—Royce—and then Iana was shaking me, and the images were gone.
“These things will haunt you if you let them.”
“No shit,” I replied.
The sword Max had used to fight against Royce for the life of his ladylove, Helen of Volos, was in my hands. A fight he had lost, and with it, any hope of reconciling with the only true friend he’d ever had. Thousands of years old, and the weapon was still so well preserved and cared for despite its age that it could cut through flesh and bone like butter.