The Eldritch Conspiracy (Blood Song)

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The Eldritch Conspiracy (Blood Song) Page 21

by Adams, Cat

left sleeve a bit to reveal the hilt of the

  sheathed knife. At Chiyoko’s raised

  eyebrow I opened my blazer enough to

  let her see the holstered gun and the

  small loops that held my squirt guns.

  “What are the empty loops for?” the

  queen asked.

  “Stakes, usually. I’m not wearing any

  because there’s never been a vampire on

  Serenity.”

  “Until you.” She smiled like butter

  wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

  “I … am … not … a … bat.” I spoke

  softly, almost gently, but enunciated

  every word past smiling teeth. She

  obviously wanted to provoke me, was

  counting on my getting angry and saying

  or doing something that would cause

  trouble. I wasn’t going to oblige her.

  “And yet obviously not fit for the

  throne.”

  “Very true. I made that clear the last

  time I was here. I don’t want the throne.”

  She smiled again, and this time it was

  the cat that ate the canary. “Then your

  aunt, Queen Lopaka, has neither heir, nor

  any prospect of one.”

  Aha. There it was, out in the open. I

  smiled again, and this time I made sure

  my expression was every bit as

  predatory as hers had been. “Oh, I don’t

  know.” I looked at Adriana to confirm

  whether my suspicions about her vision

  of the other day were correct. “My

  cousin is a prophet, and I believe she’s

  seen who the new heir will be. It isn’t

  me.”

  The

  car

  turned

  and

  stopped;

  apparently we’d reached the gates to the

  queen’s compound. Perfect timing. I

  couldn’t wait to get out of this car, but

  Chiyoko needed to hear about the future

  High Queen of Serenity from the

  princess who had seen her.

  “It’s true, Aunt.” Adriana used the

  familiar term that I suspected was more

  a tradition between the royal houses than

  a fact of biology. “You should check

  with your own prophet. My sister-to-be

  will someday look remarkably like

  Celia, but without the fangs, tattoo, or

  scarring.”

  “You lie.” She spat out the words,

  glaring at each of us in turn.

  “Be careful, Aunt. Do not assume I

  will not call for a duel. Or Celia, either.

  She’s quite the fighter, as I’m sure you

  remember from watching the two of us

  duel.” Adriana kept her tone light, but

  her

  green

  eyes

  were

  flashing

  dangerously and there were spots of

  color on her cheeks.

  Oh, hell. I didn’t say anything, but I

  thought at her, hard. Don’t drag me into

  this. Yeah, I’d fought a duel with

  Adriana—I’d had to. But I did not want

  to fight another one, thank you very

  much. And against Chiyoko? Unh-unh.

  Nope. No way.

  Adriana smiled without mirth. “You

  needn’t worry, Aunt. My mother will

  bear a suitable heir before I, myself,

  have children with Dahlmar. This I

  swear.”

  I wondered a moment at her wording.

  Was she preggers? Oh crap. I mean, no

  big deal to the sirens. But Rusland’s

  ultra-religious types might have a fit.

  I’m not pregnant yet, Adriana

  admitted in my mind. We have abstained

  by our own choice. But I will be, soon

  enough after the wedding that they’ll

  be counting on their fingers.

  The car had started up again,

  apparently we’d cleared security. Just

  another minute or two and we’d be

  pulling up to the main building.

  Um. Congratulations?

  This time the smile lit Adriana’s face.

  Thank you.

  I glanced over at Chiyoko, trying to

  see if she was listening in or not. She

  probably was. Most sirens do. They

  shouldn’t; even they admit it’s rude. But

  they do. The queen’s visage might have

  been carved from granite. “We shall

  see.”

  The Secret Service agent opened the

  car door. I got out so fast it made him

  blink. Adriana announced that she was

  going to her office to take care of some

  business. She said that she’d be under

  guard and occupied until dinner, and

  suggested I go unpack.

  That sounded like a great idea to me. I

  got as far as my old rooms in the guest

  house before Queen Lopaka’s assistant,

  Hiwahiwa, appeared at my door. She

  wore a green lavalava and would’ve

  looked perfectly elegant if she hadn’t

  been so obviously upset. While I didn’t

  know exactly what her relationship was

  to Laka and Okalani, I was betting there

  was one and it was close.

  “Princess, please, can we talk?”

  I wanted to say no. I really did.

  Instead, I stepped aside, letting her walk

  past me into the living area.

  My suite in the guest house is very,

  very nice. It takes up most of the top

  floor, and since the security was so

  good, I felt perfectly fine about opening

  the French doors to the balcony off of the

  living room so that I could listen to the

  waves and smell the ocean breeze. I

  could feel the sting of spelling at the

  edge of the balcony but it was so

  elegantly done that I wouldn’t have

  noticed without my vampire blood.

  The cabinets, dresser, and built-in

  desk were solid oak. The desk held a

  top-of-the-line computer. The curtains

  were dark gold, the color a perfect

  match for the carpet, and both had been

  color coordinated with the cream, gold,

  and brown checked comforter on the

  bed. There were half a dozen throw

  pillows in brown and gold, although at

  the moment most of them were piled in

  the far corner of the room rather than on

  the bed. I didn’t like throw pillows

  much.

  A conversational group was arranged

  at the other end of the room, all of the

  furniture

  equally

  expensive,

  comfortable, and color-coordinated. The

  final touch was a beautiful, abstract oil

  painting that used all of the colors in the

  room. It was huge, taking up most of one

  wall. But it was gorgeous, the kind of

  thing I could stare at for hours while

  noticing more and more details.

  Hiwahiwa walked straight over to the

  conversational

  group,

  waiting

  expectantly for me to join her. I tried not

  to sigh as I took a seat, which gave her

  permission to sit down. The sooner we

  got through this, the better it would be.

  “Laka sent you?”

  “Yes, Pri
ncess, she did.” Hiwahiwa

  looked at me with sad eyes. “Okalani

  hasn’t returned. Not knowing what else

  to do, Laka sought the advice of a

  prophet.” The tears that had been

  brimming in her eyes spilled over. “In

  the vision, her captors said they had to

  keep her alive for now, but she is

  terribly injured.”

  Captive? Was that even possible? I

  mean, Okalani was the strongest

  teleporter I’d ever even heard of. I knew

  she could teleport through shields. What

  could possibly hold her?

  I should have known Hiwahiwa

  would be listening to my thoughts. I

  simply had to learn shielding if I was

  going to spend any time on this island.

  “There was a demon.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Demons.

  They are the worst of the monsters. Fully

  evil,

  frighteningly

  intelligent,

  and

  literally hell-bent on the absolute

  destruction of humanity. I’ve run into

  them before, even had one specifically

  targeting me for special attention. There

  is nothing in this world that is worse.

  Then again, they’re not from this world

  —they have their own dimension. They

  can only come through here and wreak

  havoc when invited. And still, bad as

  they are, dangerous and evil as they are,

  there are idiots who will call them up.

  With the right protections, they can

  sometimes be trapped within a casting

  circle. But get one thing wrong … I

  shuddered, my flesh crawling with goose

  bumps.

  Emma had been captured and abused

  with the aid of a demon. Her father and

  brother had betrayed me in order to save

  her. In the end, I’d helped them

  willingly. We saved her, got her out. But

  she’d had to have the memories

  magically wiped to stay sane.

  “I’m so sorry.” I was. More than I

  could say. Because Okalani wasn’t just

  in physical jeopardy. She’d done things

  that could damn her soul. Unless

  something was done, she could be the

  demon’s plaything for all eternity. I

  didn’t know if hell was real, but souls

  most certainly were and demons could

  claim them, leaving the body an empty

  shell. I’ve been told by priests that it’s

  worse than death.

  “So am I.” Hiwahiwa was actually

  wringing her hands. “Laka is … not

  right. It’s as if she’s lost her mind. The

  doctors have her sedated.”

  I could see that. How bad would it be,

  knowing the child that you loved was in

  such danger and that there was

  absolutely nothing you could do to save

  her? Worse, Laka probably blamed

  herself. Although there was no way she

  could’ve stopped this from happening.

  “Princess, before she passed out,

  Laka gave me a message for you. In the

  vision the men controlling the demon

  were talking. They said that you had

  been captured, that they were going to

  use cameras to film them feeding you to

  that thing and broadcast it on the

  Internet.”

  I managed to make it to the bathroom

  before I threw up.

  I took a few minutes to clean up, brush

  my teeth, and try to pull my thoughts

  together. It was hard to do. My emotions

  kept getting in the way—foremost among

  them panic. I forced myself to take deep,

  soothing breaths. I could do this. There

  were no demons here, now. I was fine.

  The future isn’t set in stone. Every

  choice we make can cause changes,

  ripples in time and reality. Visions show

  probabilities, not facts. Even Vicki, who

  had been one of the most powerful

  clairvoyants born, had admitted that.

  This could change. I could change it.

  Sometimes, just the knowing of the future

  is the changing event.

  When I managed to get myself under

  control, I went back into the living room.

  I found Hiwahiwa standing at the French

  doors, looking out at the ocean.

  She spoke without turning around.

  “I’m sorry for my indiscretion, Princess.

  I shouldn’t have upset you. You won’t be

  able to save her. No one can. Her body

  is broken. She will … die.” Her voice

  broke on the last word. She gave a harsh

  gasp. “But she repented what she did.

  She was trying to make it right. If you

  kill her … her soul…” Hiwahiwa

  couldn’t finish the sentence.

  Her soul might be saved? Maybe. I

  didn’t know. I’m not religious. I’ve had

  exorcisms performed on me to remove

  demon taint. I’ve received last rites from

  a warrior priest, even though I’m not

  Catholic. I’ve had rabbis, imans, and

  monks pray over me. I didn’t know for

  certain

  if

  Hiwahiwa

  was

  right.

  Redemption is a tricky thing. But I

  believe in God. I believe he/she forgives

  us if we truly regret our sins and try to

  make amends. I believe. But I don’t

  know.

  “Please, Princess. If you get the

  chance, please.” I tried to stop her, but

  Hiwahiwa actually dropped to her

  knees, begging. “You have to kill

  Okalani.”

  How could I say this without insulting

  her? “Hiwahiwa, I wasn’t raised here.

  I’m not a siren by birth. I was raised in

  California, to American standards.

  Honor killings are still murder there.

  Suicide is a crime in many states, no

  matter the reason. Please understand that

  because of my beliefs, which are every

  bit as important to me as your beliefs are

  to you and Laka, I cannot … will not

  intentionally take a life unless I’m trying

  to save my own or someone else’s.”

  She stared at me for a long time. I let

  my mind go blank, just feeling the pain I

  knew she was feeling, both at Okalani’s

  situation and the choice I had to make.

  Finally, she stood, smoothed her

  lavalava, bowed her head as she’d been

  trained to do when in the presence of

  royalty, and backed away until she could

  turn and leave. Not a word was spoken,

  but I could hear heart-breaking sobs

  erupt from her on the other side of the

  door after it had closed.

  Crap.

  I sat and got more and more bummed

  the longer I was alone. After nearly an

  hour of wallowing, since I was already

  depressed, I tried calling my gran.

  Don’t get me wrong. I love my gran.

  She’s good and kind—but hardheaded as

  hell. When my mom disappeared into the

  bottle and started sleeping around, Gran

  was the one wh
o made sure there were

  groceries in the house, that Ivy and I

  made it to school. She’s been a font of

  love and wisdom my whole life. But at

  the same time, she’s always enabled my

  mother’s drinking. It was her car my

  mother was driving the last two times

  she was picked up for drunk driving.

  Now my mom was in prison on Serenity,

  and she’d made it very clear she never

  wants to see me again. She cut me out of

  her life, and I’m all for it. But that

  destroyed my relationship with Gran,

  who blames me.

  But Gran isn’t the only one who is

  stubborn in the family. I keep trying,

  keep hoping that we can work something

  out. Besides, what with the press

  coverage of all the bullets and bombs,

  she had to be worried. Maybe this time

  she’d take my call.

  “Hello?” The voice on the line

  sounded both older and feebler than I

  remembered. My grandmother had

  always been a ball of fire, with enough

  energy for two people twice her size.

  Not today. That, more than anything,

  frightened me.

  “Gran, it’s me.”

  “Celia! Oh thank God! Sweetie, are

  you all right? I’ve been watching the

  news. They said you were all right,

  but…”

  “I’m fine, Gran.” Tears stung my eyes

  at the sound of her voice, hearing the

  words that made it clear she really did

  still care. I tried to pull myself together

  as my grandmother said soothing things

  to me.

  “I love you so much, Gran. I’ve

  missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too, sweetheart.”

  There were tears in her voice now; I

  could hear the thickness in her words.

  “I was wondering … would you

  maybe like to have dinner when I get

  back to the mainland? We can go

  wherever you want. My treat.”

  “On the mainland? Where are you?”

  Her voice was odd. It was the tone of

  voice she always used when she’d done

  something that she knew I wouldn’t

  approve of, usually something for my

  mother.

  Hearing

  that

  was

  oddly

  reassuring in an “oh shit, here we go

  again” sort of way. It gave me something

  familiar to cling to.

  I forced lightness into my voice that I

  didn’t really feel. “I’m on Serenity for

  the wedding. I’m the maid of honor, if

  you can believe that.”

  “Serenity? Oh.” Now she definitely

  sounded weird. And worried. “Well,

  I’m sure they’re keeping you much too

  busy to see me. You’re probably staying

  in the royal compound, too, what with

 

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