Shadow’s Fall

by Dianne Sylvan

  But if she was being honest with herself … that wasn’t the real problem right now.

  She was so restless she was practically throwing off sparks. She needed to either get drunk or go pound out her frustrations on the piano. At least the piano would offer an opportunity to work on the new album.

  There was also …

  Miranda sighed heavily and left the suite barefoot in her pajamas, all but running down the hall to the music room; she unlocked it with her com and slipped into its welcome silence, heart pounding as if she’d broken out of prison.

  Instead of hitting the overhead lights, she walked around the room lighting the candle sconces—well, technically they weren’t real candles, but they flickered and gave the same soft illumination as a real candle without risking an accident should she forget to put one out. She tended to fall asleep in here a lot, or to wander in and out in a daze after working deeply with her gift, so it was best if they avoided real fire in a room with so much valuable wood and paper.

  She sank down at the Bösendorfer and laid her head on its lid for a while. Anxiety drained out of her, through the piano, and into the floor, where she imagined it being transformed into something useful; she had learned from David how to ground and center, but the piano offered her an even more solid ground to stand on, one she needed more and more often these days.

  She looked up at Queen Bess. “Things are getting very weird around here,” she said.

  Again, as she often did in this room, she thought of Kat. The blonde would have known what to do; she always knew. She had the right words, the right ideas, the ability to look at a situation with equanimity and make decisions rationally. Miranda had always jumped into things, unthinking, and trusted—God? Herself? She had no idea anymore—that there would be water to meet her, not rocks, when she tumbled down.

  “Wish you were here, Katmandoo,” she whispered. “Maybe you could tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do.”

  Miranda sat up and lifted the piano lid, reaching inside its body to retrieve the small wooden box she had tucked inside.

  She held the box in both hands, contemplating it, tracing the carvings with her fingertips. Why did she have it? Why had she taken it?

  She didn’t know.

  No one questioned the Queen when she requested it from the lab. They simply jumped to her orders and brought it out to her. Miranda put the incident out of their minds afterward just in case any of them mentioned seeing the Queen. She had in fact been leaving the lab when the call came in about Stella; with all the commotion she had forgotten about it, until she felt the corner of the box jab her in the ribs under her coat on the way home. While David was in the shower, she slipped off to the music room and hid it, hoping to keep enough distance from the thing that she could think logically again.

  It hadn’t worked. The box and its contents were all she could think about. And right now David and Faith were on their way to retrieve it … David was going to be good and pissed off when he figured out what she’d done, but that hadn’t stopped her. Novotny had found no trace of a spell drawing her to it, but something was. Something made her want it in her hands beyond all reason.

  Something made her flip open the lid and take the talisman out.

  “What are you, really?” she asked it, turning it over in her hands. It was heavier than it looked, just like the Signets, and warmed to her touch. She could feel the carvings, each line practically burning her fingers with some kind of energy that neither David nor science itself could detect. Why did it want her? And what for?

  Lydia had known. Miranda was sure of it. There was more to this thing than “power amplifier,” and Lydia knew it—but she had vanished. A sweep of the entire sensor network had turned up nothing; she might as well have dropped dead and taken all her secrets with her. But if Lydia knew, then someone else in her Order would, too, and all they had to do was find that someone. It couldn’t be that hard.

  She examined the prongs on the talisman, wondering how it was supposed to work—she was pretty sure it attached to her Signet, but where? The front or the back? She held it in one hand and flipped her Signet over with the other, looking for any sort of … wait.

  She’d never noticed before, but there were tiny indentations along the Signet’s outside edge, lining up exactly with the talisman’s prongs. She tried to remember if she’d ever seen anything similar on David’s Signet, but truthfully she’d never looked that closely at the back of it. Basically it looked like it just clipped on.

  With a soft snap, the talisman clicked into place perfectly, fitting flat against the Signet. From the front nobody would even be able to see it.

  As Miranda stared at the talisman, she could feel the metal growing warmer and warmer, until it practically burned in her hand; then, to her astonishment, she could see the carvings … glowing.

  “Oh shit,” she muttered. “Way to go, Miranda … you found the motherfucking Ring of Sauron.”

  She pulled on the talisman to detach it … and couldn’t.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me—” Miranda slid her fingernail in between Signet and talisman, trying to pry them apart, but they wouldn’t budge; she couldn’t bend back the prongs either, even though she could have sworn the metal was soft enough to let her do that a minute ago.

  She was still trying to get the thing off when the music room door beeped and David entered, clearly distressed.

  “You’re not going to believe what I have to tell you,” he said, dropping into his usual chair. “I just threw Deven and Jonathan out of Austin … and I think we broke up.”

  She dropped her Signet back in place on her neck, eyebrows shooting up. “You did what?”

  “They’ve been here this whole time.”

  Miranda rolled her eyes. “No kidding.”

  “They tried to persuade Faith to steal the talisman from the lab.”

  Her hand closed around her Signet. “Oh?”

  “And now it’s gone—someone did steal it, but not Faith, and not Deven. The goddamn thing just up and vanished, and I have no idea what happened to it …”

  “I …”

  “But it’s probably a good thing, since apparently it’s going to kill whoever’s wearing it.”

  She froze. “Um … say again?”

  He stared at her for a moment before he spoke again. “Miranda … please tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.”

  Biting her lip, she turned her Signet over.

  “Your head’s going to explode now, isn’t it?” Miranda said.

  David put his face in his hands. “Possibly.”

  “You want to know what possessed me.”

  “Yes, please.”

  “I don’t know.”

  He gave her a measuring look and then nodded. “May I?”

  She unclasped the chain of her Signet and tossed it to him. Both of her hands moved up to her neck … she felt wrong without it. She hadn’t removed the Signet for any reason in three years … its weight and presence were a comfort, and without it she felt exposed, vulnerable, smaller.

  She watched silently as David did as she had done, trying to remove the talisman from the Signet. “Wait here,” he said. “I’m going to try something.”

  “Crowbar?” she asked.

  “Laser,” he replied.

  She sat on her piano bench, feeling alternately scared and stupid, settling on a combination of both. Could the thing really kill her? It didn’t make sense. And it didn’t feel right; something about the thought sat wrong with her, and she wondered where David had gotten the intel. If it was from Deven, it might be suspect … but why would he lie about something potentially deadly? Did he want the talisman for himself?

  Slightly sick to her stomach, she called Jonathan.

  “Yes, we’re still in Austin,” he began, “but—”

  “Can this thing really kill me?” she interrupted.

  She could hear him doing a double take. “What?”

  “This talisman. Was De
ven telling the truth?”

  He took a deep breath. “God, Miranda, you didn’t …”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Why on Earth would you—?”

  “Not the point,” she snapped, anger getting the best of her. “How about a better question? How about you tell me why you didn’t say anything about this before? Or why you told Faith to steal it but didn’t bother warning us that it might kill us? Why don’t you ask your Prime what kind of bullshit game he’s playing that’s worth my life?”

  “Miranda, you weren’t supposed to—”

  “You know what? Forget it. Just … fuck you. Fuck you both.”

  She was crying as she threw the phone at the floor, where its screen cracked and several bits of plastic flew off toward the corners of the room.

  Miranda curled up on herself and wept until she heard the door open again and, a moment later, felt David’s arms around her.

  “Easy, beloved,” he murmured into her hair. “We’ll figure this out.”

  She knew, without asking, that he hadn’t been able to remove the talisman; she lifted up her hair so he could place the Signet back around her neck for the time being. Having it where it belonged was a relief, but it didn’t soothe the mad terror and anger warring in her heart.

  David said, “Assuming Deven was right, we have until Sunday to get the thing off—that’s when it’s supposed to activate. Tomorrow night we’ll take it to Novotny and see what he can do. I’ll call everyone I can think of who might know something. There’s no reason to assume the worst, though; Lydia could have been telling the truth, and Deven’s source could have been lying or mistaken. At this point we can’t be sure.”

  Miranda sniffed, wiping her eyes impatiently, trying to pull herself together. “I don’t suppose I could just not be wearing it that night.”

  “I doubt it. You’re connected to the Signet as long as you’re alive—I don’t think taking it off changes that. But I’ll drop the damn thing in the river before I’ll let it harm you.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  “Did it do anything when you attached it? Did you feel anything?”

  “The carvings lit up, and it got really hot … then nothing. I can’t feel anything now at all.”

  David kept his arm around her as he lifted the other to speak into his com: “Star-three.”

  “Star-three here, Sire.”

  “Report to the music room, Faith … now.”

  Miranda pointed to the remains of her phone and said guiltily, “I broke another one.”

  David smiled. “Don’t worry. Last time I wised up and ordered five more.”

  The Second arrived in less than five minutes, and when she saw the state Miranda was in, Faith’s eyes widened. “Is everything all right?”

  “Not exactly,” David said, giving Faith a look that contained far more anger than she probably deserved. “We’ve found our thief.”

  Miranda showed her the talisman, and Faith went ghostly pale and sought sideways for a chair. “Oh my God.”

  “Very reassuring,” Miranda said irritably. “Thanks.”

  “This is my fault,” Faith answered softly. “If I had said something as soon as Deven told me … I should have come to you immediately, Sire, like you said … this is my fault.”

  The Prime shrugged. “Would you like me to fire you, or would you prefer we cut to the chase and behead you? We really don’t have time for histrionics.”

  Faith’s voice was disturbingly unsteady as she asked, “What should I do?”

  David took out his phone and glanced at the time. “There’s not much we can do tonight, but for now I want you to go back over everything Deven told you about the Stone.”

  “What Stone?” Miranda asked.

  “That one,” David told her. “It’s known as the Stone of Awakening.”

  “But it doesn’t have a stone.”

  “Don’t ask me,” he muttered. “Apparently I’m on a need-to-know basis with anything that might potentially destroy our lives. We need to widen our search for Lydia—”

  “Lydia’s dead,” Faith said.

  They both stared at her.

  “Three guesses who killed her,” the Second added.

  David took a long, deep breath, and Miranda could feel him clamping down on a rather alarming wave of wrath that she sensed he would keep reined in until he could unleash it on a more deserving target than Faith. Heads were, quite literally, going to roll if he had his way … and David always got his way in the end.

  “All right,” he said very carefully. “Faith … start from the beginning.”

  “Sire—Sire, please wait a moment—”

  The concierge was panting as he caught up with David and Faith, who had headed straight for the elevators.

  David was in no mood. “What do you want?” He turned on the human, who blanched and stuttered for a moment before he could speak.

  “I must inform you that Prime O’Donnell and Lord Burke are no longer with us,” the man said. “They checked out before sunrise this morning. There are already new guests in their suite.”

  David managed not to snap the man’s neck … barely … and the concierge darted away with a sketchy bow, putting the lobby and the front desk between himself and the Prime as quickly as he could.

  David pulled up Deven’s phone number and called it … no answer … and none on Jonathan’s either.

  Verging on desperation, he tried Deven’s again … and this time, there was a reply.

  “I’m sorry.”

  David didn’t raise his voice, but he knew his rage was only marginally contained in his words. “Get your lying, manipulative ass back here and help us.”

  “You have to trust me, David. I had no idea she would take the Stone—but I’m going to fix this. Don’t worry—I have a plan. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  David felt a curious, detached sort of calm descend over himself; he had, it seemed, finally found his breaking point, and there was only one thing left to say. “Deven … go to hell.”

  Seventeen

  There were vampire bars like Anodyne that catered to the wealthy, influential members of the Court; there were trashy places like Nepenthe; there were even two bars that catered primarily to off-duty Elite and other Haven employees. The most popular of these, Deep Six, was where Faith usually went for a postshift beer. Everyone knew her there—she even had her own spot at the bar like Norm on Cheers.

  That wasn’t where she went tonight. Tonight she wanted anonymity. She wanted to disappear.

  Easier said than done in a city where the entire Shadow District knew who she was, but Faith had been to every vampire-owned establishment at least once on inspection rounds, so she was familiar with a couple of out-of-the-way dives where even a Haven vamp could fade into the background.

  It helped that she was in civilian drag instead of her uniform. Her Elite fatigues were a huge part of the persona of Second in Command; in normal clothes she could feel her spine relax, her shoulders unclench … a little. She left her hair loose and wore long sleeves that covered her com. She could have been anyone.

  She slumped on her bar stool and worked on her second beer, trying very hard not to think about work … but what else did she have to think about?

  She was lucky she hadn’t been fired. Any other employer, on finding out she had failed to deliver important information before it was too late, would have thrown her out on her ass. She was almost angry at David for not being angrier at her. Perhaps he knew that as angry as she was at herself, he didn’t really need to be.

  Then again the Prime tended not to waste emotion; he had changed a lot since meeting Miranda—some of the Elite were muttering that he had gotten soft, which Faith found rather laughable—but he was still way more centered than most people. He had decided, quite wisely, to focus on the problem at hand: finding out how to stop the Stone from killing Miranda and, by extension, him.

  David had said he didn’t blame Faith. But Faith knew tha
t if they failed, it wouldn’t matter; she would blame herself.

  She would also blame Deven, of course.

  “If we do die,” David had said that evening, “I hereby order you, Second, to hunt down Deven and kill him just on principle.”

  “As you will it, Sire.”

  He’d been only partly joking. There was going to be hell to pay after the Stone was dealt with. Faith didn’t envy Deven the consequences of his actions.

  They had no idea what Deven was planning. He and Jonathan had both dropped so thoroughly off the grid, even their own Second claimed not to know where they were. Whether the Pair was trying to help or had set the whole thing up, there was no way to know. In fact the only person who didn’t seem to think Deven had fucked them all over was Miranda.

  It was a mystery of the Queen’s personality that she held fast to her opinion of the Prime of the West no matter what kind of crap he pulled. Was it her empathic gift telling her the truth about him, or did she refuse to believe David would cheat on her with someone unworthy of his affections? Probably not the second, given that Miranda had been willing to forgive their trespasses when neither could forgive himself. Faith wouldn’t have been so forgiving … but then, she wasn’t a Queen, wasn’t bound to David for eternity … at least, not the same way.

  Faith rested her forehead in her palm. She wasn’t drunk enough yet for these thoughts.

  “What can I get you?” the bartender asked nearby.

  “Bootlegger Brown Ale for me and another Guinness for the lady.”

  Faith automatically started to turn the offer down, but the words died on her lips as she recognized the voice … and the accent.

  Her head snapped up in time to see Jeremy Hayes sit down on the stool beside hers.

  She gaped at him. The bartender whisked her glass away and replaced it with a fresh one and gave Jeremy a bottle. Jeremy handed the bartender a folded bill, then turned to Faith, smiling slightly at the expression on her face.