by Rye Brewer
Garan took this in without his face moving a muscle.
For a moment, as we stood there in silence, I was sure Gregor had said something insulting. I couldn’t understand what it would be, however. Gregor could be thoughtless and often spoke before thinking, but this wasn’t one of those times.
When he spoke, Garan’s voice was low, flat. “You’re telling me that Tabitha left her tower? Then returned?”
Oh. He didn’t know she’d left in the first place. How were we supposed to know about that?
“Yes. She left quite some time ago,” Gregor replied, speaking slowly, glancing at me.
“Obviously, I was unaware of this. One of the conditions of her tenure in ShadesRealm was that she not travel freely there. She was to remain in her tower if she wanted to live there at all.” He heaved a heavy sigh, sounding for all the world like a man who’d just reached the end of his patience. Or his sanity.
“We didn’t mean to break the news this way,” I murmured, even though I knew Gregor would prefer I not speak at all.
But there was no predicting how delicate this discussion was going to be. I felt like a child who’d just inadvertently gotten another child in trouble with the teacher.
“No, of course not,” he replied, off-hand.
“Why is it that Tabitha was forced to live in that tower?” Gregor asked.
I winced at his choice of words.
Garan didn’t flinch, but he clearly took umbrage. “Nothing was forced upon her. She wanted to remain in ShadesRealm for her safety—life in the human world, where she’d come from, wasn’t safe. She was presumed dead and had been for a long time. It was better for those she loved if they believed she was really dead. By the point we became aware of her, she no longer a pureblooded vampire—and I agreed to allow her to stay out of respect for my cousin, who loved her. My condition was that she not leave the tower, but that was for her safety. None of my brethren had the same relationship with my cousin as I had, so I couldn’t trust them to treat her with respect.”
“That’s completely understandable, and kind of you,” I replied before Gregor could have the chance to say something even more awkward.
“Now you tell me she was coming and going freely…” He shook his head.
“It was our understanding that this was the first and only time,” Gregor clarified.
“I see.” He sized us both up. “What is it you’d like to do? Come looking for her, as you stated in your message?”
“I’m deeply worried for her safety,” Gregor admitted. “As you say, none of the shades had the respect for your cousin you did, so they wouldn’t care for her being present.”
“This is true.” Garan stroked his chin, mulling it over. “I believe it could be arranged for you to move through ShadesRealm to inspect the tower, if it would help ease your mind.”
“I would owe you a great debt for that,” Gregor assured him.
“Even the Knights at Messimer, if I might need them in battle?”
I barely stifled a gasp.
How did he know about them? Nobody was supposed to know. I glanced Gregor’s way and found him staring hard at Garan, trying to suss this out for himself. Even the fae weren’t supposed to be aware of who was a member of that part of fae society and who wasn’t.
“How is it that you’ve come into possession of information about them?” Gregor asked.
“That’s a conversation for another time,” Garan smoothly replied.
I wondered how much of our conversation had been planned out by him in advance. How much he had banked on Gregor promising the moon and stars for information on his beloved Tabitha.
Garan continued, “It would make me feel much better about our makeshift alliance if I knew I had the Knights should I need them.”
I waited for Gregor’s decision, barely breathing. The Knights were only meant to be used for the holiest, the most critical of fae causes. Yes, the shades were the memory keepers, and they possessed generations of information on every sort of magical creature and realm, but the Knights should have been well outside their knowledge. How did Garan know?
“Very well,” Gregor decided, as though there were a decision to be made.
I bit my tongue to keep from arguing with him—he would never forgive me if I contradicted him here and now, even though the Knights weren’t to be called on for just any battle, and certainly not for something to do with the shades. And I didn’t want Garan to think there was any friction or weakness between us.
“So be it.” Garan held out his hand once again, and the two of them shook to seal the deal. “We’ll go to ShadesRealm immediately, and I’ll have my foot soldiers take you around the realm and to the tower.”
“Thank you.”
The three of us walked back to the portal which Garan had come from, and I found myself paying attention again to the resemblance between him and Allonic. It wasn’t just the skin or the eyes. It was the shape of the brow, the nose, even the ears. Were they related? Of course—his cousin had loved Tabitha, which meant his cousin was likely Allonic’s father.
He was paying attention to me, too. His eyes kept meeting mine, making me look away in embarrassment.
“Forgive me if I’m being rude,” he apologized. “It’s just that you remind me of the description of the vampire who killed my father.”
“Excuse me?” I gulped.
Gregor, walking along on Garan’s other side, looked over at me.
“It’s the white hair. She had white hair. She used a dagger to stab my father. He didn’t die right away, he lingered for some time, and described her to me.”
We walked on in silence after that, and all I could think about was Anissa.
Something told me Gregor was thinking along the same lines as I was.
7
Gage
The ship was cold. It was always cold. That was nothing new. Only one more day and we’d arrive at the port, and a little more traveling before we reached Paris.
Finally.
“You’ll love it there,” I assured Cari.
“You’ve told me that a million times.”
“I’ll tell you again, you’re going to love Paris.”
She smiled, even though I caught a slight eye roll along with it. “I always wanted to go to Paris, you know. On my bucket list. I didn’t know I would have to die in order to get there.”
She stood and stretched, looking around the cargo hold which had been our home over the course of the journey. We were surrounded by crates and storage containers, and were lucky that nobody ever came in to check on the shipment. A pile of blankets had served as our bed—not that we slept, but we had to huddle together to keep warm most of the time.
She had taken it well, always being a good sport. Mostly, because she knew how crucial it was that we leave the country before her existence was discovered. Not just for her, either.
I’d be in just as much danger as she was. That was why we were on our way to Micah and his clan, where we could hide and create as much of a life for ourselves as possible.
I hoped.
It was the best I could come up with, in such a short amount of time.
It was getting harder to keep her occupied, to keep the bloodlust from raging out of control.
We had just about run out of the blood I’d taken from the Bourke supply before we left—as far as I was concerned, we couldn’t reach Rouen fast enough. It was one thing to hide out and avoid notice, but another to hide the disappearance of crew members.
“You’re not dead,” I reminded her. “You came close, but you were too strong.”
“And you were too fast,” she whispered, looking away from me.
It hung between us, in the middle of our love. She hadn’t yet come to terms with who she was. In her saner moments, which were more frequent the further away she got from her transition, she could do nothing but doubt her existence.
“Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. I would do it again.”
She was quiet for a long time, turned away from me with her arms around herself. “I know you would,” she finally whispered.
“You’ll get used to it—and when you do, you’ll see how easy it is to live alongside humans.”
“I’m sure I will.” Her arms were still wrapped around her body.
A knee-jerk response. What she knew I wanted to hear. I went to her, resting a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t pull away.
“Once we’re with the others, you won’t have time to think about feeling different. They’ve all been doing this for longer than you or I have been alive. They know the ins and outs of navigating Paris. They know how to stay safe. It’s the best possible solution for us.”
“And the League won’t find us there?”
“Absolutely not.” I could answer that with complete honesty. “This clan, and others throughout Europe, think our League and its laws are a joke. They want nothing to do with any of it.”
“Because they think it’s wrong?”
“Because they want to be free to exist on their own terms,” I clarified. “Yes, I’m sure they think it’s wrong, but that’s always in the eye of the beholder. Isn’t it?”
“I guess so.” She rolled her head on her shoulders with a groan. “I need to get out of here and run. Or at least walk.”
“Well, we’re going to the right place.” I slid my arms around her waist. “There’s no better city in the world for walking than Paris.”
“So I’ve heard.” She chuckled, leaning into me. “When was the last time you visited?”
“Just after the second world war,” I murmured, brushing my lips along her neck.
We both needed a bit of a distraction from the rather dire circumstances we were traveling in. I could’ve imagined much more comfortable, or at least livable, conditions. But I couldn’t imagine traveling in them while remaining anonymous.
“It must have been a very interesting time.”
“That’s a word for it,” I snorted softly. “There was a feeling of hope in the air, with the war over, but a lot of work to be done. Micah and his clan used the confusion to their advantage.”
And that was one sticking point I couldn’t quite get past. I recalled Micah showing me around the Catacombs and explaining how they’d opened up their sacred space to allow Resistance fighters to travel underground—up until that point, any hapless human who’d stumbled upon the home Micah and the other vampires had created for themselves had never seen the light of day again. That was good of them. What wasn’t good, at least in my mind, was killing war orphans and refugees, the undocumented who could easily be brushed aside as nothing more than war casualties. We would never be able to agree on that.
But I was civilized, while Micah had given up on civilization after one slip-up had put him on the wrong side of Lucian’s laws.
I’d never forget the night he came to me in a feverish sweat, explaining that he had to go, that he’d bribed a ship’s mate to stow him away on a voyage to Europe. His crime had been the same as the one which had me on the run, though he hadn’t been as fortunate—the girl he’d loved, who had begged him to turn her into a vampire so they could be together forever, had been killed by Lucian’s men upon discovery.
I supposed I could understand how a vampire would shun everything they considered responsible for ruining their life. The League represented law and order, rules to keep us away from the prying eyes of humans and their police. Rules which kept us from experiencing further war and bloodshed, granted, but had brought an end to Micah’s life as he knew it. The fact that he’d aligned himself with a clan who not only shunned civilized living, but openly embraced life underground wasn’t surprising.
I only wondered if I could adjust to that.
And whether Cari could ever adjust to life as I had learned to live it.
“I’m hungry.” Her eyes met mine, and I picked up on their red tinge. She took the sunglasses I pressed into her open palm and slid them on.
“Hungry?” Our driver looked at us in the mirror, a friendly smile on his face. “You’re in luck, mademoiselle. Only some of the very best dining in the entire world here in Paris.”
I gave him a tight smile in reply and nudged her as a reminder to keep quiet. I knew she was hungry. Hell, I was hungry, too. We’d polished off the last of the blood just before sneaking off the ship, since we couldn’t exactly be seen sipping blood from a bag on the streets of Rouen, and I had fallen into the necessary habit of letting her have more than me.
It had been nearly three hours, and she was already hungry again. I’d be glad to reach the meeting place, so Micah might be able to help us find something before Carissa grabbed a random pedestrian. Or our taxi driver.
It was a relief to see him drive away unharmed, if not a little curious about the couple who’d just rode the two hours with him.
I hoped a generous tip was enough to keep him quiet as I turned to survey the meeting spot Micah had specified after I’d texted him on our arrival.
It was the most innocuous spot I could imagine—what looked like an old, underground public restroom. The gate was locked, and when I peered down the broken, overgrown stairs, I could just make out the boarded-up doors.
“I wish I could appreciate being here,” Cari laughed softly, but there was an anxiousness to that laugh which belied her light tone of voice.
The hunger was getting to her.
I could just imagine what it would be like, smelling all the fresh blood walking past, back and forth. People talking to one another, talking on their phones, lost in their human lives in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Unaware they were brushing past two vampires.
Soon, three.
I noticed the shrubbery shaking a bit, where it grew through the iron fence surrounding the restrooms, and then a tall, broad-shouldered figure emerged.
He was like a cat, slinking over to us, taking his time. Sizing us up.
“Micah.” I slapped him on the back when he pulled me into a hug, his wide smile banishing that first impression that he was stalking us as though we were prey.
“It’s been too long, my friend.” He’d taken on a bit of a French accent over the seventy years since we’d last seen each other, but that was the only thing which had changed about him.
He fit right in with the Parisian men I’d seen up to that point: the dark, mussed hair, the stubble-covered cheeks. A tight, black sweater and jeans helped him fit in, too. He could easily have blended in and taken his pick of anyone he wanted.
“Micah, this is Cari.” I watched as he lifted her hand, brushing his lips across the backs of her knuckles.
I rolled my eyes—but she didn’t.
She nearly giggled.
Modern women weren’t accustomed to that sort of treatment. To the point where it was enough to make her forget her hunger for a moment.
“Enchante,” he murmured, his eyes taking the scenic route as they traveled over her face, her hair, her body.
I cleared my throat once it became a bit too much to witness.
He merely chuckled, throwing an affectionate arm around my shoulders.
“As though I would do anything to stand in the way of someone I owe my life to,” he laughed, then looked at Cari. “Did he tell you what a hero he is?”
“No, he didn’t,” she smiled.
The effect he had on her was obvious. She seemed more her old self than she had since I’d turned her. Like the girl I met that first night, outside the club. It seemed like a decade had passed since then.
“It was he who gave me the money to secure passage. If I hadn’t been able to make it worth the shipmate’s while, he never would’ve stowed me away on the ship which brought me here. He saved my life that night.”
“It was nothing,” I said, waving it off.
“Nothing for you, perhaps.” He released me, only to take Cari’s hand and use it to pull her arm through his and link them. “Come. Let me show you to your new home.”
I t
old myself to ignore the intimacy already in his voice.
We needed him.
8
Gage
“The history of the Catacombs is a long and checkered one,” Micah explained as he led us through the hole in the iron fence, hidden from the world by the overgrown shrubbery around it. “There is much more to them than the average person is aware of. Tourists, that sort of thing.”
He sounded as though he were speaking of something disgusting.
“And nobody’s ever discovered you?” Cari asked.
He opened a boarded door which led into what I assumed was a janitor’s closet. Instead of brooms and mops, there were stairs. A long set of stairs which led down into a tunnel lit by overhead bulbs, bare, strung on a wire.
“Only a handful of actual threats,” he explained, leading the way down the stairs.
It was natural to him, something he likely did at least once every evening, so he was at the bottom long before we made it. The way was uneven, hand-hewn. We managed to reach him without breaking our necks.
The first thing I registered was the smell of death. All around us. Old death, ancient death. There were no bodies anywhere in sight as we walked down a long, narrow, low-ceilinged tunnel, but they were somewhere nearby. Everywhere nearby.
He continued the history lesson as he led us deeper into the maze of tunnels, wheeling our bags behind him. “Back in the 1940s, we allowed the French Resistance to use the tunnels without preying on them. Believe me when I tell you it wasn’t always easy. After all, it’s not every day that we have such willing food sources wandering in our midst. But even we knew there was something larger at stake. Whenever we came across any of them as they made their way here or there, away from the eyes of the enemy, we pretended as though we were part of their group. Life was so tense and complicated in those days, we knew there was little chance of any of them remembering us.”
“That’s fascinating,” Cari breathed, as if she were afraid to raise her voice above a whisper.