Chapter Nine
I LOOKED UP QUICKLY. “MADELINE HUNTER? Is that Director Hunter, the woman in charge of the Directorate?”
She nodded and closed the book. “I believe so. Why?”
“Did she merely look at the register, or did she access the curse?”
“She asked about the specific details of the curse, but she did not ask for more than that.” Helena studied me for a moment, then added, “We would not have allowed her to view the curse anyway. Too many of the older vampires have a working knowledge of magic, and this spell can be dangerous in the wrong hands. Besides, she is not a member of any coven.”
“Would you have given her access if she had been?”
She smiled politely. “If she were a member of a coven, she would be a full practitioner, so yes, of course.”
“Does that mean the more dangerous spells are not under strict control?”
“Of course not. All witches must make their own decision, and it is up to them to suffer the consequences should they take the wrong path.”
I nodded thoughtfully. “The other woman—Deborah Selwin—I gather she is a coven member?”
“Yes.”
“Can I ask which coven? I really need to talk to her if possible.”
A small smile touched her lips. “Director Hunter asked much the same question.”
“And did she get the same answer?”
“Of course. Selwin is a member of the Frankston coven. They meet weekly, as well as at the time of the full moon.”
That odd smile still touched her lips, and instinct pricked up her metaphysical ears. “And the address?”
“They have special dispensation to meet at the Frankston Reservoir Park every Sunday evening.”
“And will I actually find Deborah Selwin at these meetings?”
Her smile grew. “No, you will not.”
Meaning that was a question Hunter hadn’t asked—although I had to wonder why. She had far more experience hunting people down than I did—centuries of it, in fact. But maybe she’d simply slipped the information from Helena’s mind—although that would be considered a breach of etiquette in this place, and might just put her on the outs with the Brindle. Even the vampire council wouldn’t want that.
“Then where will I find her?”
“Ah,” Helena said, “that is something of a problem. I can give you her home address, but we believe she has not been there for several weeks.”
I guess if she was the one who’d raised the Maniae against the council, then she would have been smart enough to get the hell out of Dodge.
“Is there any one place she favors? A town or a building? Does she have a close friend or relative who might know where she is?”
“No relatives that we know of, but the Frankston coven might be able to give you more information.”
Well, that was a lot of help. I forced a smile and said, “Thanks for letting me see the records. It was a help.”
She inclined her head, then hesitated, cocking her head slightly, as if listening to someone else. “There is one other place you might try.”
I paused in the act of turning around. “Where?”
Again she paused. “There is an old ritual site on Mount Macedon. Few people know of it these days, and even fewer would venture there, as the roadside is prone to slippage when it rains. But Selwin’s mother was high priestess when it was a functioning coven site, so she would know of it. If she felt the need to find somewhere safe, then that place would be it. There is much ancient magic there.”
“Did you also pass this information on to Hunter?”
Again with the small smile. “No, and we would ask that you don’t, either. The council has no need to know of our more sacred places.”
I nodded, even as I noted the use of we rather than I. She was in contact with someone else. “And the directions to find this site?”
“Will be here momentarily.” She paused, obviously listening to that other voice again. “Be wary when you enter the site. If Selwin has raised a Maniae, she may well have stepped from the path of light. There is no telling just what else she is capable of.”
“Also, it is very likely your dark defender will not be able to enter. Those who are not true flesh and blood may be summoned into that place via magic, but they may not otherwise enter from outside its boundaries.”
Unease slithered through me. I might have said many times that I was more than capable of looking after myself, but I’d learned very quickly that such was not the case when it came to the spirits and demons of hell.
And I had the sudden, gut-wrenching notion that, if Selwin had slipped from the path of light, I might just be facing those sort of creatures at the ritual site.
After all, she’d have to know that sooner or later the council would come after her, and she’d had plenty of time to prepare for that eventuality.
“Why would such a site be able to ban the entry of reapers and Aedh when a place as powerful as the Brindle cannot?”
“Because the Brindle is old, but it is not situated on an ancient site. There are places in this country that have been used for magic and ceremonies since long before European settlement arrived.”
Which really didn’t answer the question, but maybe she didn’t actually know.
She glanced past me. I turned and watched a gray-clad young woman approach. She offered me an envelope, curtsied, then left.
“Please read the contents here,” Helena commented. “We cannot risk the directions falling into the wrong hands.”
Meaning Hunter and her council, I suspected. I tore open the envelope, scanned the directions carefully, then folded the paper into the envelope again and handed it back to her.
“Again, thank you for your help.”
She nodded. “Just be careful, Risa. There are many things—and many people—in your life who are not what they seem.”
And on that rather ominous note, I turned and walked out. But as I left the room, instinct had me glancing to the left. Down the far end of the hall, her willowy figure almost lost to the shadows, was Kiandra.
“The ancient site will protect you when nothing else will.” Her voice, cool and distant, was whisper-quiet, but it floated down the hallway easily, as if there weren’t any distance separating us. “But human blood must not be shed there. Not in anger, not in vengeance, and not in hate or fear.”
I waited, but she said nothing else. She merely nodded my way once, then turned and disappeared through the closest doorway. Obviously, it had been Kiandra herself who’d given me all the extra information about the sacred ritual site.
For whatever reason, the Brindle witches were on my side.
Azriel appeared beside me as I walked across the park to the bike. “So you go to this sacred site next?”
I glanced at my watch. What I really wanted to do was go see Lucian and lose myself in a couple of hours of loving, but I guessed that really wasn’t an option right now. Hunter was tracking down the same leads I was, and faster, and maybe this test was my investigating skills against hers. And that was a test I would always lose.
As if to hammer home this particular point, my phone rang and Hunter herself appeared on the vid-screen.
“So,” I said, by way of greeting, “when exactly were you planning to tell me you were working on this case yourself?”
She laughed softly, but there was very little humor in the sound or in her expression. “Did you honestly think the council wouldn’t have other investigators on the case? How else would they judge your usefulness?”
“But it’s not just any investigator—it’s you. And you have a vested interest in keeping me alive, because you want the keys found.”
“Which does not mean I will hesitate to erase you if I find the killer before you do,” she said, with deadly calm. “And the council members are well aware of this.”
Oh, fabulous, I thought sourly. The one person on my side really wasn’t. “When were you planning to send me that list I asked for?”
“As soon as you forward Catherine’s list to me.” Cool amusement played about her lips—probably because she knew I’d be pissed off.
Which meant I couldn’t give the bitch the satisfaction.
“She hasn’t sent it yet. She’s not dead already, is she?” I glanced across to Azriel for confirmation. He shook his head and held up five fingers. Meaning either five hours or five minutes, I guessed.
“No, and I am severely disappointed.” She laughed again, the sound low and cruel. “The woman really does deserve it.”
I bit back my instinctive retort—the one that went along the lines of Catherine not being the only one—and said, “I’ve talked to Adeline Greenfield, the witch who set up the magic protecting Alston’s apartment. She mentioned that Alston requested it after something that happened at the council almost three years ago.”
“Three years ago?” Hunter’s perfect features creased into a frown. “I don’t think—” She paused, and another cold smile touched her lips. “Ah, yes. The Whitfield affair. Ironically, his name does not appear on my list, and I doubt it will on Catherine’s, either.”
“What did Whitfield do, and why isn’t he on your list?”
She paused, considering me. Weighing her options on just how much to tell me. “Robert Whitfield was a vampire with only a few hundred years to his name who went against council rules and created a nest for himself.”
I frowned. “A nest?”
“A term we use for a large number of fledgling vampires created and controlled by one master. It is not considered a practical option in this day and age, as it is generally hard for a creator to either feed or control such a large number.”
And we all knew what happened to vamps who couldn’t control their fledglings—the Directorate stepped in and wiped them out.
“His nest was culled, of course, and he was severely punished.”
“The culling of his blood kin wasn’t enough?”
“Of course not. That was merely a practicality. Punishment needed to be rendered so that others would not be tempted to follow in his stead.”
“So what happened to him?”
“He was drawn and quartered in front of the council, then a dozen of the younger members were allowed to feed from him.”
Nice. Not. “I can’t imagine he was too happy about that.”
“It’s hard to say, since he did not actually survive the experience.”
Which was why he wasn’t on the list. “You allowed the younger ones to kill him?”
“I didn’t. The punishment was administered by the Melbourne council, not the high council.” Mirth glinted in her cool green eyes. “His death was not intended, but things got out of control. It happens sometimes.”
Meaning it had been allowed to happen. An arena filled with some of the strongest vampires in Melbourne could have easily controlled such a small number of younger counterparts.
“Then why did Alston fear retribution if Whitfield was dead? And who would be seeking it now?”
“If I knew the answer to that second question, you would already be dead,” she said. “As to the first, Whitfield did have a number of friends on the council who swore vengeance. However, they saw the error of their ways, and I doubt they are behind the Maniae curse. They don’t have the skills needed, for one thing.”
Meaning they’d been threatened with a similar fate if Hunter’s expression was anything to go by. “According to Greenfield, you don’t need any sort of witch skill. You just need the spell and the desire.”
“But it is a spell no one but a witch can get access to.”
“We both know a witch did recently access it.”
“Ah yes,” she drawled. “I have already talked to the Frankston coven. They can tell us little of interest about Deborah Selwin.”
“Meaning we’ve hit a dead end?”
“Meaning I have placed a watch on her home and her business, and I will interrogate her the minute she appears at either.” She paused again. “Of course, it would be unfortunate for you if I did get hold of her first.”
Which I doubted she would, if what I’d been told at the Brindle was any indication.
“You won’t. I’ll be in contact when I have her.” It was said with more confidence than I felt. I signed off and shoved my phone into my pocket. “Did you hear all that?”
Azriel nodded. “It is troubling that I might not be able to get into this ritual ground.”
“It just means I’ll have to stay out of trouble.” Or run like hell when it hit. “It would take some serious magic to stop you or an Aedh, though, wouldn’t it?”
“From the sound of it, this place is steeped in magic.”
I frowned. “Then it just might be the perfect spot to read the Dušan’s book.”
He eyed me for a moment. “Do you think the Brindle witches would approve of that?”
I remembered Kiandra’s statement in the hallway and smiled. “I think they already have.”
“Then it would be safer than attempting to read it elsewhere. But I recommend using the void regardless.”
“You bet your sweet ass I’ll be using it. Even if we are safe inside that place, that won’t stop the Raziq from surrounding it and snatching us the minute we leave.”
The ghost of a smile flitted over his face. “And why would you bet my ass on something like that?”
I snorted softly. “Now you’re just teasing me.”
“Perhaps,” he agreed. “And I would hazard a guess that this is the first time you’ve called any reaper’s ass sweet. Should I be honored?”
He was looking at me intently again, and again heat stole through my cheeks. Which was really, really weird. “Maybe.”
“Then I shall have to work on said ass, because I’d really prefer a firm yes to an unconvincing maybe.”
And with that, he winked out of existence again, leaving me wondering if—in his own weird way—he’d actually been flirting with me.
“No,” I muttered. “You’re imagining it.”
No rebuttal came out of the air. If he was still following my thoughts, he was keeping his answers to himself. No surprise there.
I climbed onto my bike and started her up, firing out of the parking lot and into the traffic. But I didn’t head immediately to Mount Macedon—not only because I needed to know what was happening with the void, but because I wasn’t about to go up there without taking one or two precautions. And while that meant I should be talking to Uncle Quinn—who probably knew as much about demons and whatnot as Azriel—talking to him would no doubt result in me being chained to a chair unable to move for the next week or so. Neither he nor Aunt Riley had been overly impressed with the results of my last encounter with one of hell’s minions.
I made my way to Mirri’s and parked in a lot a few buildings down. After slinging my bag across my shoulder, I walked back, taking the stairs two at a time until I reached the third floor.
I pressed the doorbell and, in the distance, the tinny melody of “Witchy Woman” rang out. Sadness swirled; I’d used that same tune as Mom’s ring tone. I blinked rapidly and forced a smile as the door was opened.
“Risa,” Mirri said, her cheeks flushed and her clothing more than a little disordered. “We weren’t expecting you.”
“Clearly,” I said, amused. “Do you want me to come back in half an hour or so?”
Her cheeks grew warmer. “No, no, of course not. Come in.”
She stepped back and opened the door wider. I stepped through, my gaze sweeping the neat but small living area, admiring the comfortable old couches and the lovely old rugs that dotted the worn floorboards.
Mirri peered past me. “Reaper, if you’re there, please materialize. We have a no-ghost policy in this apartment.”
“I am hardly a ghost,” Azriel commented as he gained flesh inside the room.
“When you’re here but not here, you might as well be. And it’s rude, you know. Sort of like eavesdropping.”
He didn’t comment as Ilianna came out of the bedroom, her expression exasperated as she tied the sash of her dressing gown.
“You really do have an impeccable sense of timing,” she said. “What the hell do you want that couldn’t wait?”
I grinned. “I did offer to come back in half an hour.”
She snorted disparagingly. “You may like it rushed, but I don’t. To repeat, what do you want?”
“What do you have on hand that I can use to ward off hellhounds and other possible nasties?”
She blinked. “And why would you be needing that?”
“Because I’m off to Mount Macedon to track down the witch who possibly raised the Maniae. The Brindle warned me that she might use dark magic to protect herself.”
This time her surprise was more evident. “The Brindle helped you?”
“Yes. Kiandra herself gave me the information.”
“That’s one way of dealing with a problem without getting a threefold backlash.”
I raised my eyebrows. “It was more than just a grab at a golden opportunity. They were actually helpful.”
“Wow.” Ilianna thrust a hand through her blond mane. “The Brindle actually helping an outsider? Things have changed. However, back to the problem at hand. Azriel’s armed with a super-duper shiny sword. Why can’t he take care of any potential threat?”
“Because I may not be able to get inside the sacred site in which the witch shelters. Have you made any progress on creating this void the Aedh spoke of?”
Ilianna’s gaze ran past me, and her green eyes glinted with sudden amusement. “You just can’t say his name, can you?”
“I could, if I wanted to, and if he was important enough.” Even I was surprised at that. His voice might have been even, but there was definitely an undertone of antagonism. He added, “But that is neither here nor there. The void?”
“Is a work in progress. Unfortunately, there’s no way to test its working without actually using it.”
Azriel glanced at me. “Then the witch’s solution could prove to be perfect.”
“What solution?” Ilianna asked, before I could say anything.
“Kiandra basically gave us permission to use the old Mount Macedon site as a bolt-hole.”
Mirri whistled. “Even I know that letting outsiders use a sacred site like that is a rather big deal.”
“It totally is,” Ilianna breathed, then shook her head, her expression concerned. “And it makes me wonder just what the hell the Brindle has seen coming. Although maybe we’re better off not knowing.”
I hadn’t actually thought about Kiandra’s sudden generosity, but now that Ilianna had mentioned it, it did seem strange. Trepidation stepped through me—and it spoke ill of what was to come.
I rubbed my arms and said, “Weapons for demons?”
“Oh. Yeah.” She turned and walked back into the bedroom, reappearing a few moments later with her bag of tricks—one that I knew from long experience she never went anywhere without. “I don’t have a whole lot on hand. Demons aren’t something I generally have to worry about.” She hesitated, frowning at Azriel. “Well, not until a certain sword-bearing reaper stepped into our lives.”
“If I hadn’t stepped into your lives, at least one of you would now be dead,” he said softly.
I shot him a glance. He returned my gaze evenly, giving little away as per usual. But I knew who he meant—Tao. I shivered and watched Ilianna rummage through her case.
“Ah, here we go,” she said, pulling out several items, then rising. She handed me three small smoky amber vials and a rather nasty-looking sharpened stake.
“I doubt vampires are going to be a problem at a witch ritual site,” I said, studying the stake dubiously. It actually felt good in my hand—well-balanced and not too heavy.
“Stakes are good for more than just vampires,” Ilianna said sarcastically, “and you of all people should know that.”
I gave her a look and she made an annoyed noise. “It’s white ash, which is not only a very strong wood, but also holds magical properties that make it dangerous to all creatures not of natural creation. And this one has been soaked in holy water, just to give it a little extra kick.”
I frowned. “But vampires are of natural creation. Most of them were once human.” Mainly because humans tended to hunger for eternal life, and vampirism offered that. Which didn’t mean there weren’t nonhumans who became vamps, just that there tended to be less of them.
“Were being the operative word. The process that makes them vampire is an unnatural creation. As are the creatures from hell—who may or may not have also once been human.”
“What about Aedh and reapers? Is the wood dangerous to them?”
A grin teased her lips. “No creature, flesh or energy, would be too pleased about being staked. But I don’t know if it will affect them magically or not. I certainly didn’t read anything about it during my time at the Brindle.”
I glanced at Azriel. He merely shrugged and said, “The only way to know is to try it, and you’ll have to forgive my reluctance to volunteer. I do prefer my flesh as it currently is.”
So did I, I thought, and felt heat touch my cheeks as he glanced my way. Damn my recalcitrant thoughts to hell. I cleared my throat and glanced at the three amber vials. “And these?”
“Holy water. Use it sparingly—you don’t need a lot for it to be effective.”
“Okay.” I shoved the stake in my belt, then carefully placed the little vials in various pockets. “I’m not sure how long this is going to take, but if you don’t hear from me by midnight, contact the Brindle for directions, then call Aunt Riley and let her know what’s happening.”
Ilianna nodded and gave me a quick hug. “Be careful, okay?”
I nodded, although it wasn’t like I deliberately threw myself into danger. It just happened. Sort of like night following day, I suppose.
I gave Mirri a quick kiss on the cheek, then added, “Sorry for the interruption. Next time I’ll call ahead.”
She snorted. “I’ve been a part of this little family for long enough to know that you never phone ahead. There is an imp inside you, Risa Jones, that occasionally loves to upset the apple cart.”
I grinned, but I couldn’t deny the fact that I sometimes did take great delight in doing the unexpected.
“And that,” Azriel said, his voice clear and bemused as we headed down the stairs, “might be more than a little frustrating, but it could also be your one saving grace.”
I glanced at him. “Meaning?”
“Meaning that doing the unexpected has so far kept us one step ahead of the Raziq. Here’s hoping it continues to work.”
“Amen to that,” I muttered. But even as I said it, I couldn’t help thinking that, sooner or later, our luck would run out.
Mount Macedon was about forty miles outside Melbourne, so it took me a little under an hour to get up there. Dusk was settling in by the time I turned onto the rough-looking dirt road that apparently led to the sacred site—although to call it a road was something of a misnomer. Goat track was more apt.
I slowed considerably, avoiding the worst of the ruts and gunning through the ones I couldn’t, splashing muddy water all over the bike and myself. The steep, tree-lined mountainside seemed to close in around me, filled with shadows and an odd sense of watchfulness, almost as if the trees were sentient.
I suppressed a shiver and rode on, the Ducati’s lights coming on automatically as the dusk and shadows gave way to darkness. It wasn’t the best time to be going hunting, especially in unfamiliar territory. I might have the keen nose of a wolf, but that wouldn’t help me against the sort of traps a witch might conjure. And Selwin had had plenty of time to do just that.
A set of old wrought-iron gates came into view. I stopped, kicking out the bike stand but leaving the motor running and the lights on as I walked over to the gates—which, unsurprisingly, were padlocked. The lock was ancient and heavy, the chain as thick as my arm. It wasn’t something I had any hope of breaking.
“Azriel, are you here?”
“Always,” he said from behind me. He stepped forward, his arm brushing mine, sending little tremors of electricity scampering across my skin.
“Can you break the lock?” I said, oddly torn between wanting to press closer to him and needing to create space. In the end, I did neither.
“I can, but the lock is wrapped in magic. If I smash it, there is no telling how this place will react.” He paused, his gaze on the heavy darkness beyond the gates. “There is much power here, and some of it is very old. And it is not quite as benign as you might presume.”
“Great,” I muttered, stepping back to first study the gates, then the old chain fence that disappeared into the darkness to either side of the main gate. I could jump over it no problem, but that would leave me without a fast getaway option should things go bad.
“You could always become Aedh.”
“If the magic inside that place can stop both you and the Raziq from entering, what chance have I got?”
He shrugged. “You are part wolf—a flesh-and-blood being as well as an energy one. It could be a vital difference.”
Could be. Could not be, too.
I returned to my bike and switched her off, then picked up my phone, checking to see whether I had service up here. I didn’t, so I shoved it and my wallet into the under-seat storage before walking to the fence. I leapt up, grabbed the top of the fence, and hauled my ass—rather inelegantly—over.
Once I’d dropped down on the other side, I turned and glanced at Azriel. “Well?”
He shook his head. “I can go no farther.”
“Naturally,” I muttered. Then I mentally smacked myself for being annoyed. It wasn’t his fault, after all.
But as I resolutely turned and followed the faint path through the trees and the darkness, I couldn’t help my trepidation. There were some things that even I—trained as I was by two of the best guardians the Directorate had ever produced—couldn’t fight alone. And I had a bad feeling that I was walking toward one of them now.
As my eyes became adjusted to the darkness, I became aware of shapes looming through the trees. Small buildings that smelled of incense, smoke, and ancient magic, as well as various silent, unmoving figures who hunched in the shadows—concrete monoliths hung with moss and lichens.
It wasn’t really what I’d imagined a witch’s ritual site would look like, but then this place was supposedly far older than even the coven that no longer used it.
The path meandered its way through the trees, sometimes widening into broader clearings but generally remaining little more than a goat track.
The wind was cool and fresh, smelling faintly of decomposing forest matter, eucalyptus, and the musky hint of animal. Probably kangaroo, given they were considered a pest in the Macedon region.
But the farther I walked into the mountain’s heart, the stronger another scent became—humanity, accompanied by the faint hint of roses. The scent of a woman rather than a man.
I slowed my steps and proceeded more cautiously. Ahead, through the trees, the darkness was lifted by a fierce orange glow that sent sparks cascading into the air and filled the night with the raw aroma of burning greenwood.
My fingers twitched with the need to reach for the stake, but as yet nothing and no one had threatened me. To walk in there expecting trouble might just encourage it.
The light of the fire grew stronger, until the shadows and the night were banished and the air rode with warmth and electricity.
It wasn’t a normal fire. Not completely. The flames moved and danced in a manner that seemed almost controlled—as if there was a being inside them that stirred them to life.
And yet I could feel no life other than myself and the woman who stood so close to the fire.
Fear tripped lightly down my spine, but I ignored it, pausing in the cover of the trees to study the clearing beyond.
The fire dominated the center of the rough circle, the wood piled high and burning fiercely. The witch stood so close to the flames that her skin had an orange glow and her hair seemed to flicker. There was no one else in the clearing. My gaze swept the grass. I couldn’t even see a protection circle, which seemed unusual.
“I know you’re there,” she said, her voice clear and untroubled. “The magic of this place warned me the minute you breached its boundaries.”
I walked into the lighted clearing but stopped halfway to the fire. The heat of the blaze scalded my skin, and I had no idea how she was managing to stand so close.
Her clear blue gaze swept me before rising again. “You’re not what I expected.”
“I daresay I’m not who you were expecting, either.”
“I daresay,” she agreed. “What is it you want?”
“Answers.”
She smiled. It was a real smile, a warm smile—the sort of smile that would have normally tugged a response from my lips. But there was something off-kilter about her, about the look in her eyes. Not to mention the edge of wariness that swirled across the clearing, mingling with the wood sparks and stirring the leaves of the nearby trees.
“The vampire council sent you?”
I hesitated. “In a sense. But I am not an assassin.”
“If I thought you were, you would already be dead.” She cocked her head and studied me for a moment. “I must admit, you intrigue me. I cannot determine exactly what you are.”
“I’m a half-breed, but that’s neither here nor there. And its not what I’m here to discuss.”
“Obviously,” she said. “I suppose you want to know whether I am responsible for the rise of the Maniae?”
“I do.”
She nodded and returned her gaze to the flames again. “I did not expect the Brindle to help the council, I must admit.”
“They’re not helping the council. They’re helping me.”
“A minor difference when you are here as a representative of the council.”
She might have considered it minor, but I doubted the Brindle would. “So you did raise the Maniae?”
“Of course.” She glanced at me. “Why else would I access the spell?”
She was, I thought uneasily, extremely chatty about her deeds. And that was never a good thing when it came to bad guys—or so Aunt Riley claimed—because it usually meant they had something devious planned. “Then my next question has to be, why?”
“Ah, that is far more complex.”
“I have all night.”
She smiled again—and this time there was nothing real or warm about it. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
I resisted the urge to rub my arms and said, “Why did you raise the Maniae?”
“Because they killed my master.”
It took a moment for her words to hit. Shit, she was one of Whitfield’s fledglings! One they’d obviously missed during the cull.
“Which master are we talking about?”
She gave me a long look. “You know which master. You are not stupid, young woman.”
“Then we are talking about Robert Whitfield?”
“Of course! How many others has the council allowed to be drained and killed recently?”
“To be honest, who the fuck knows? It’s not like the council actually advertises their business.”
“That’s true.” She crossed her arms and studied the fire for a moment.
As the silence stretched on, I said, “Why wait so long for your revenge, then?”
“Because while I have merely undergone the blood ceremony and not the conversion, Robert’s death was almost my death. It took a toll on my strength and my will.” She looked at me again, her face bitter and suddenly gaunt. “But I could have survived that. I could have survived his death and moved on with my life, had it not been for one discovery.”
I raised an eyebrow, and she continued almost savagely. “By killing Robert and declaring that his entire nest be erased, they have sentenced me to madness when my death finally comes and the conversion takes place.”
I frowned. “Why? I mean, it’s not like another vampire couldn’t help you.”
“But they won’t. Robert’s line has been sentenced to death—each and every one of us. I am the last of his fledglings-in-waiting, and no vampire would dare take me into his care for fear that going against the council’s edict would doom their own nest.”
My frown deepened. “Fair enough, but I still don’t see why you’d be sentenced to madness when you’re converted. I mean, you seem sane enough now.” Or as sane as anyone hell-bent on revenge could get. “Why would that change when you die and become a vampire?”
“Because the step from life to unlife is a traumatic one—not just because you die and are reborn, but because every new vampire is hit with a veritable sensory overload. It takes years for any newborn to learn to eat, walk, and talk, and it is no different for a newly turned vampire. That is why a fledgling’s master is so important. They keep us safe, keep us in line, and—most important—teach us.”
That being the case, I could understand her bitterness and need for revenge—and it didn’t make my task here today any easier. I might sympathize, but I still had a job to do. One I had to finish if I didn’t want to end up a victim of the high council.
“Look, the council’s full of bastards, we both know that, but murdering them isn’t going to solve your problem. You’ve killed two already. Why not call off the Maniae—or, at least, offer the council a trade?”
“Well, it’s not so much Whitfield’s death that has pissed you off, but the fact that you’ll be left in isolation thanks to their ban on helping his fledglings, right?”
She nodded, amusement bright in her blue eyes. I had a sudden suspicion she was only humoring me, that she was waiting for something—or someone—else.
I resisted the urge to look around, although every sense I had seemed to be on high alert, and the hairs on my arms were standing on end. But other than the increasing sense of wariness and the strange way the fire was moving, nothing appeared out of the ordinary.
I continued, “So with two councilors already dead, why not contract the council and offer a trade? Their lives for yours? It seems a sensible option to me—especially if all you really want is the opportunity to survive.”
She considered me for a moment, then turned her gaze to the flames again. After a moment, she nodded. “It is, indeed, a sensible option.”
“Meaning, I gather, that you’re not into sensible right now?”
“Not when it comes to the council, I’m afraid. They enjoyed Robert’s passing far too much when they could have—and should have—stopped it.”
And how, exactly, did she know that? She couldn’t—not unless she was there, and there was no way she would have been. Whatever else this woman was, right now she was still human. As such, she would never have gotten anywhere near a council meeting.
“So who’s your source on the inside?”
She smiled. It was a cool, calm, and altogether too-collected smile. “And why would you think I’d tell you that?”
“Because you have something planned that you don’t think I’ll survive,” I replied evenly, “And therefore you have nothing to lose.”
She laughed. It was a warm, rich sound, and the flames seemed to shiver away from it, as if afraid. I eyed the fire curiously. It really did seem alive, but that was ridiculous.
Wasn’t it?
God, I wished I knew more about not only magic, but also the creatures that inhabited the realms beyond my own. I had a bad feeling I might be confronted by one of them soon.
“You could be right,” she said, leaving me wondering if she was answering my thoughts or my comment. She studied me for a moment, then added, “but I’ve always hated those movies where the bad guy just blabs about all his plans, and then everything goes to hell and the good guy saves the day. So I don’t think I’ll be saying anything more.”
Well crap, I thought, and flexed my fingers. I was going to have to do this the hard way.
“Look, as I said, I’m not here to harm you. But by the same token, I will have to take you back with me.”
“And I,” she said calmly, “have no intention of going anywhere.”
“Please don’t make me force you—”
She gave a cold, humorless laugh. “My dear child, there is no way in heaven or hell you could force me to do anything. Now please, leave this place.”
“I can’t—”
She sighed dramatically. “I suppose it was too much to hope that you would.”
With that, she flicked a hand, the gesture almost casual. But there was nothing casual about the result.
Because the fire came to life.