The Immortal Crown

by Richelle Mead

  Frantically, Mae tried to convert that to kilometers and then contrast that with what she knew about the distance from Carl’s place. The intersection wasn’t that far from where she was staying. How was this possible? What crazy coincidence had landed her this close to the salon that might be holding her niece? As the vision materialized back into Justin’s room, Mae heard a female voice say, You’re too entrenched in mortal thinking if you think this is a coincidence. Don’t you know I’m looking out for you?

  Mae’s heart was racing as she stared around the darkened bedroom. Her hand was smooth and uncut. The moon visible through the outside window hadn’t shifted far, so she hadn’t lost as much time as before. It wasn’t even midnight yet. Based on what she’d seen in the vision, it might take her . . . what, an hour to walk to the salon? If she could get out. Hannah’s desperate words came back to her: There’s an underground exit in your bathroom that I could sneak in through tonight.

  Was there? Mae quietly slipped out of the bedroom and out to the common area. There were three bathrooms adjacent to it, and a search of the second one found what she needed: a small door in the back of a linen closet. The door was unlocked, revealing a cramped tunnel, low enough that Mae had to duck when she entered it. At least she didn’t have to crawl. The walls and floor were packed dirt, and she had no lights to guide her, only touch. She followed it to its end, discovering an earthen wall with ladder rungs that led up to a trap door. Cautiously, she climbed up and lifted the door to get a peek. It opened up outside, underneath some dried brush someone had packed on top for concealment, in what appeared to be the back of Carl’s property. After a few more moments to get her bearings, Mae slipped back down and returned to Justin’s bedroom.

  He still slept deeply, allowing her to sort through his clothes and put on pants and a three-quarter length coat. It was too big for her but clearly masculine, which was what she needed. She pulled her hair up into a tight knot and added a wide-brimmed Arcadian style hat Carl had gifted each of the Gemman men with. No one would mistake her for a man up close, but she hoped, in the dark, that the illusion would hold. Her last task before leaving was to scrawl on the notepad she’d used at the temple. It was a quick note, in Mandarin, one she hoped would calm Justin if he woke up but not alert anyone else: Wait for me. With that, she set out.

  The back of Carl’s property was flanked by an electric fence, and in the distance, she saw a man patrolling with a dog. Whether it was a son or hired help she couldn’t say, but she thanked her luck that they were too far away to notice her. An overhanging tree gave her the opportunity to climb up and drop down on the other side of the fence, which would have been a jarring fall for anyone else. Her ramped up implant let her handle it easily, and she soon got her bearings and headed for the country highway that led into the city.

  She kept to the side of the road as much as possible, again hoping any passing cars who noticed her would think she was male. Her calculations proved correct, and after an hour of brisk walking, she saw the sign from her vision and the small road that branched off from the highway. Down it, she spotted a building identical to the one in her vision, save for one thing: no red velvet flag. Justin’s words came back to her: When they’ve got some girls ‘for sale’ that have reached puberty, they hang a red velvet flag outside their door. The vision had shown the salon for what it was, but in the real world, the girls must still be of an age where they were safe—if anyone was in one of those places. She left the road and traveled through the woods, approaching the back of the salon. The proprietors had opted for slightly less sophisticated security than Carl’s: a thick perimeter of nasty barbed wire. They’d also had the foresight to trim away any overhanging trees. Mae had no tools to cut the fence and instead had to take the unpleasant but inevitable approach: climbing it by hand.

  The upside to that too-big coat was that it provided fabric to protect her hands, and the thick-soled shoes kept her feet safe. The trick was patience, and she finally managed to land on the other side with only minor discomfort. Unlike Carl’s, there didn’t appear to be any dogs, which was a blessing, but she soon found another obstacle to entry. Aside from the front door, there were no other points of entry. Was that to keep the girls in or intruders out? It was hard to say, but Mae hoped they never had a fire.

  She crept up to the front door, which was actually open. A second screen door kept insects out while allowing air in. Peering inside, she immediately realized these people lived in a much different demographic than Carl’s family. The walls were rough wood, the floors concrete. Aside from basic electricity, the house lacked even Carl’s basic nods to technology. At a knotty pine table, she saw two men playing cards, with an arsenal of weapons lying within arm’s reach around them. The sight of the guns was a jolt until she reminded herself that Arcadia didn’t have nearly the weapons laws her homeland had. The guns the men had lying out were older, but her hand still itched for the feel of a trigger. It would solve a lot of her problems.

  No. No violence. I just need data.

  But how could she, with those men in her way? She needed access to the rest of the house. As she was puzzling this out, one of them gave a harsh shout, and a young woman entered through one of two doorways. Mae winced, more from surprise than anything else. The girl—who looked to be in her late teens or maybe early twenties—was dressed in a ragged dress and had some of the heaviest Cain scarring Mae had seen in Arcadia so far or ever, really. Cain rarely ran that strongly in the RUNA anymore, and in the rare cases it did, corrective surgeries were readily available to help tone down the worst of the defects. That, of course, wasn’t acceptable here.

  The man who’d shouted for the girl set down his gun and approached her, coming to stand provocatively close. She kept her gaze fixed downward as he touched her cheek and said something Mae couldn’t hear that made the other man snicker. The standing man took the girl’s hand and led her from the room. Once they were gone, the remaining man peered back at the doorway they’d used for several moments and then, satisfied he was alone, pulled a flask from his pocket. He took a couple of long swigs and then fixed his attention on a newspaper. It was a paper one—a novelty to Mae—and he used both hands to hold it, forcing him to disarm.

  If a distracted guard was the best she could hope for, Mae would make do. He was angled slightly away from the door, and after a quick analysis of the distance between him and her, Mae headed back outside to find a rock. She returned with one the size of her palm, paused for a moment to collect herself, and then struck. The man never saw her coming. She opened the door with almost no noise and moved faster than he could turn around. The rock slammed into the back of his head, with precisely enough force to incapacitate but not kill. She even managed to do it without drawing blood, though he’d certainly have a lump on his head later. Carefully, she eased him down so that his head rested on the table, the flask sitting beside him. It’d be lucky for her if his companion thought he’d passed out from drinking, but she wasn’t counting on it. Fortunately, she planned on leaving no other sign of her passing tonight. Maybe they’d figure out there’d been an intruder, but they’d have no other indications of her identity or that she’d disturbed the house’s women or contents.

  With one exception. The array of weapons called to her, and after a heartbeat of hesitation, Mae scooped up a handgun. It was an older model, with only six shots, but it was fully loaded and would be effective if her attempts at subterfuge didn’t go so well tonight. Feeling more secure with a weapon in her hand, she strode toward the two doorways, only to hesitate once more.

  One door led to what looked like a primitive kitchen, and here Mae found the other guard. His back was to her, and all his energy was going into the marked woman who stood bent over the counter with her long skirts hiked up. Mae’s lips curled in disgust, and the gun was heavy in her hand, the urge to aim at him overwhelming. Once again, she had to remind herself she was only here to observe, not take action.

  At least the girl looked lik
e she was of consenting age, though “consent” was probably a dubious term. Whether the girl was a lawful concubine or a ward being taken advantage of, Mae doubted she’d ever admit to doing something she didn’t want. It made Mae’s stomach curl.

  This is the room she came from when called, Mae tried to tell herself. And she’s older than girls usually are in these salons. Most likely she is a concubine or a servant being used. There’s no reason to think those animals do this to all the girls here. They prize virgins in this country. Surely the others are left unmolested. That didn’t change Mae’s desire to save this girl, and it took a cold, logical voice in her head warning that she needed to use this distraction to finally move again.

  The other doorway led to a narrow stairwell, and she tread lightly, trying to avoid squeaks. The stairs opened up to a hallway with five doors, three of which were closed. The two open ones turned out to be a bathroom and an office. Based on the outer dimensions of the house, she assumed the other three doors led to bedrooms, which—she realized belatedly—might be locked. It seemed like the kind of sadistic thing these guys might do.

  But the first knob opened easily and quietly, and she stepped inside, pleased to find a nightlight dimly illuminating the space— probably so this salon’s keepers could do night checks. Four girls ranging from what looked like ages six to twelve slept soundly in narrow beds with threadbare covers. Despite their gaunt faces, the girls didn’t look like Arcadians. Mae saw no sign of Cain on any of them. Their features were regular and healthy. She also recognized the telltale signs of mixed heritage that characterized so many of her countrymen but wasn’t very common here.

  These are Gemman girls, she realized. Stolen Gemman girls.

  The second bedroom revealed more of the same, though one of the girls had a slightly darker complexion than the rest and fragile-looking hair indicative of mild Cain. Stolen from a province, Mae guessed. The third room held what looked like another provincial girl and two more Gemmans . . .

  . . . one of whom was Mae’s niece.

  There was no question she was the same girl from Emil’s picture. And even if Mae had never seen the picture, that family resemblance confirmed the rest. Blonde curls—nearly white in the poor light— framed a little face that was still lovely in spite of the malnourishment. A swell of emotion burst in Mae’s chest, fed by the implant’s need to increase her adrenaline and endorphins. The instinct to carry the girl away was so strong that Mae had to physically step back to stop herself from reaching out.

  No action. Just information, she reminded herself.

  And yet . . . even though she’d come here wanting to find her niece, Mae wasn’t prepared for the reality. It was one thing to come in saying she would only observe and another to obey that when faced with not only her niece, but these other girls who were victims from her own country. And after witnessing these rustic living conditions, not to mention the poor servant downstairs . . .

  Mae closed her eyes and took a deep breath, forcing calm as her free hand touched the amber dagger in her belt. The dagger brought me here. Against all reason, it helped me find this place. Surely it has a plan for me to do . . . something.

  What that something was, however, remained unknown for the moment. Mae was unprepared and would have to return with a concrete course of action later. Right now, she needed to leave. For all she knew, the man in the kitchen had finished and found his partner unconscious. His first action would be to immediately check on the girls he was shoddily guarding, and Mae had no avenues of escape up here. And so, with one last wistful look at her niece, Mae crept out of the slumbering room and back down the stairs.

  Sounds from the kitchen told her things were wrapping up there, and the man she’d struck was still immobile. She left the same way she’d entered—keeping the gun with her. She could stash it in the tunnel back on Carl’s property.

  The walk back to his house went much more quickly than her initial one. Her mind was so busy spinning with plans that she hardly noticed the time passing. Unfortunately, no matter how much she tried to puzzle it out, she didn’t know what to do. How could she save her niece? How could she save the others? The Gemman government had to know its girls were sometimes stolen. What would it do if she offered definitive proof of where some were being held? Would it do anything? Or would her leaders turn a blind eye in the name of political diplomacy?

  Lucian, she thought. I should ask Lucian. And yet, no matter how captivated with her he might seem, Mae didn’t think his affections would go so far as to risk an international incident—especially since she’d never really returned his attention. It didn’t matter, she soon decided. Even if she had encouraged him, his attraction to a Nordic patrician wouldn’t trump his career goals. She would have to rely on her own actions. And the dagger.

  When she reached Carl’s property, she was faced with a new problem, more easily solvable. The tree she’d used to leap the fence was no use to her from the outside. Fortunately, she found another growing on the exterior, and although it didn’t hang nearly as conveniently over the fence, it nonetheless gave her enough clearance to make a leap that put her back within the compound’s boundaries. When she landed, it took her a moment to gather her bearings and figure out where both her guesthouse was and the tunnel’s entrance. At last, she had her orientation figured out and hurried off in the direction she needed.

  Inconveniently, she found an obstacle in the form of Carl’s older sons stumbling drunkenly along, arms slung about each other as they returned from a night of carousing. She quickly ducked into the shadow of a shed, silently cursing when she heard one of the young men say, “Hey, did you just see that? There’s someone there.”

  “One of the guards,” said another of the brothers.

  “No, no,” said the first, whom Mae recognized as Jasper, the particularly obnoxious one. “I swear, I saw someone else.” He came staggering forward, around the side of the building to her hiding spot. Discovered, Mae sprang up before he could see her face and took off across the yard. No point in pretenses now.

  “There!” yelled Jasper. “He went that way.”

  “Doug!” yelled one of the other brothers. “Get the dogs—there’s some guy breaking in!”

  More shouts followed, and Mae ran, confident in her ability to keep ahead of all of them, though less confident about where to actually go. She was moving in the opposite direction of her goal, and the only saving grace was that the property was so big that she could keep out of sight from most of her pursuers—for now. It wouldn’t take long for the whole compound to wake up, and eventually, her hiding spots would dry up.

  Carefully keeping track of the sounds of those coming after her— who weren’t being quiet in the least—Mae managed to double back and finally go in the direction she’d initially wanted. She paused halfway there and was pleased to hear that the others were still going off where they’d seen her. She could pull this off after all. And she might have—if Jasper hadn’t stayed behind.

  She encountered him in almost the same spot she had before. All the others had left. He drunkenly lurched after her, and she easily dodged him, sidestepping around him to continue her escape. Unfortunately, the maneuver briefly put her in a patch of light, and his eyes widened.

  “You!” he gasped. He looked as though he were about to shout for the others, and with no other options, Mae swung out and clocked him with the handgun. He keeled over, and she didn’t wait to see if he was unconscious or not. She ran the rest of the way to the trapdoor hidden at the back of the property and, after first ascertaining no one was around, disappeared down it. The narrow tunnel slowed her a little, and she didn’t use nearly the care she had in her exit of it. She abandoned the gun just before emerging into the bathroom’s closet and paused before emerging. Everything in the house sounded silent, but she could hear the activity outside—and it was getting louder. Louder and closer.

  As silently as possible, she shut the closet door and slipped out of the bathroom and back to Justin
’s bedroom. He was sitting up in bed, looking as though he’d been abruptly wakened—probably from the exterior noise. He stared at her as she shut the door and leaned against it, as though she might keep her pursuers out by sheer willpower alone. He gave her a once-over, and she realized her clothes were covered in dirt from the hasty trip through the tunnel.

  “What have you done?” he asked.

  Her answer was pre-empted by the sound of pounding at the guesthouse’s exterior door. “They’re looking for me,” she blurted out. “But only one actually saw me.”

  Justin sighed and pulled back the covers. “Take off your clothes and get over here.”

  Mae didn’t hesitate. She shed everything in the corner and was in bed with him by the time she heard voices just outside their door. To her astonishment, he pulled her down in a kiss, his body covering hers as he rolled her onto her back. A surreal mix of feelings took hold of Mae as she instinctively wrapped her arms around him, her hands touching his bare flesh. Fear, of course, was her primary emotion. But her body was so on edge, so amped up with the churning of endorphins and other chemicals that it also responded quickly to the feelings of desire being stirred up from having his body against hers. She entangled her legs with his and parted her lips, taking in more of his tongue and mouth. His hands gripped her tighter, and as her heart pounded like some caged animal seeking escape, she couldn’t say if it was from panic or desire.

  The bedroom door burst open, shattering the confusing spell. Justin jerked away from her, a look of outrage so convincing that she wasn’t sure it was entirely faked. “What are you doing?” he exclaimed.