Blood Kin (3 page)

“Hello, lovely,” Fen said, bowing over my hand extravagantly. His eyes gleamed as green as the elaborate embroidery that twined over the black velvet of his coat as he smiled up at me.

I smiled back, a little warily. The decanter of brandy on his table was half-empty. I wondered if it had been full at the beginning of the evening. “How’s business?”

He flicked his hand dismissively and held out a chair for me. “Nothing to complain of. Plenty of gulls wanting to know their sparkling futures.”

Fen exercised only enough of the powers he hated so much to provide his clients with vague hints of what lay in store for them. Innocuous yet accurate enough that he had quite the reputation amongst those who indulge in that sort of thing. They paid well for his obfuscations. He always said if they knew most of what he really saw, they would pay even more for him not to tell them.

I never knew whether that was the truth. But I did know that more and more he preferred the pain of the iron circling his wrist to facing his visions, so they couldn’t be anything pleasant.

His smile broadened as he looked me over, ridiculously attractive, as always, when he exercised himself to charm. His black hair was rakishly rumpled and a chipped green gem swung from the gold hoop in his right ear. A pretty package but I liked him too well to sleep with him. Both of us have few real friends and plenty of offers to warm our beds. We wouldn’t risk the former for the temporary pleasures of the latter.

“The more relevant question, my dear spiky one,” he continued, “is how’s
your
business? Heading out again?” His gaze took in the stark black of my outfit and darkened a little. He didn’t approve of me going to Assemblies alone. “You should be careful.”

I frowned. “Did you see something?”

His head tilted, smile vanishing as rapidly as it had appeared. He reached for the brandy and refilled his glass. “No. Should I have?”

Blue eyes flashed again in my head. “No.” I shook my head firmly, banishing the Templar yet again. “No, definitely not.”

The smile stretched back into life. “Why, Holly, you’re blushing. I think there’s a story here somewhere.”

I tried to look discouraging. “Is there a reason you called me over?”

He tilted his glass at me. “Got wind of a commission at the Gilt. Thought you might be interested.” Half the brandy vanished in one gulp and he didn’t set the glass down. Bad night indeed.

I hid my concern. In this mood, he wouldn’t thank me for it. “A commission or a
commission
?” The Gilt is the biggest theater hall in Brightown. Both a hub for gossip and a fairly insatiable consumer of costumes. Sewing is how most of the world thinks I make my living—the ones who don’t suspect I have a patron, that is. I need some apparent source of income, even though I earn far more from my runs than I could as a modiste.

“A dress for the new diva,” Fen said with a shrug. Another swallow. “Or so I hear.”

Excellent. The Gilt was even in the direction I needed to go. Their evening show would be winding up soon. Perfect timing.

“I’ll look into it,” I said, standing. “Thank you.” I leaned across the table and brushed a kiss on his cheek. “Be good,” I whispered before I straightened.

Fen blinked at me, expression suddenly shuttered, and reached for the brandy. The look of concentrated determination to reach the bottom of the decanter as he tipped the amber fluid into his glass told me he had no intention of heeding my advice.

But there was nothing I could do for him other than make sure he was poured home safely at the end of the evening. To that end, I had a word in the ear of Junker, one of the bouncers, and tipped him a half crown. Then I headed into the night for the next part of my evening.

Chapter Two

GUY

We
were halfway out of Mickleskin when the Beasts attacked.

There was a second’s warning when Gray squealed an enraged alarm and then bucked beneath me, lashing out with his back feet. Around me, I heard the swift shouts of my patrol mingling with the snarls of Beasts.

I turned in the saddle, trying to see how many attackers there were. We’d only had a few minutes’ respite since the last encounter, which had left one of the novices with a nasty gash in his arm and more of us sporting bruises and lumps. We’d driven that band of humans back squealing to wherever they’d come from—leaving two of their number dead in the street—and I’d only just finished detailing men to carry the dead and my wounded man back to the Brother House and now this.

Hell’s fucking balls.

It was too quick. Too soon. Almost as though the attacks were coordinated. But I would have to worry about that later. Gray squealed again and spun as I drew my sword, ignoring the dull ache in my arms from where I’d caught the girl—and that was another part of the night I didn’t like at all—and sighting the Beast Gray was objecting to as we circled.

It was in hybrid form, six feet or more of muscle, fangs, and clawed hands. More than able to do damage with the sword it was swinging. Behind it I glimpsed several more Beasts, including a few in full Beast form.

In Beast form, Beasts can take out a horse with one swipe of their claws and they were too low to the ground to reach from horseback anyway. Cursing under my breath, I launched myself from Gray’s back, knowing that he would continue to follow his training and do his best to stomp anyone coming near him into oblivion.

The Beast in hybrid form obviously hadn’t been expecting that particular move. His eyes widened, but he only had time to get his sword halfway into position to meet my attack by the time I landed. I used the momentum of my leap to carry me forward, thrust my broadsword ahead of me, and spitted him like a pig.

Normally we tried to take prisoners, but when facing an unprovoked ambush, our orders were to protect ourselves and ask questions later.

I yanked my sword free of the Beast, who sank to his knees and toppled over with a dying snarl, and headed for the nearest wolf.

It had seen what I had done to its pack brother and had obviously learned from the experience. Before I could fully close the distance, it feinted right and sprang past me, out of reach of my sword. I spun, trying to follow the path of its movement, but it was fast. Inhumanly fast.

But I was used to fighting inhumanly fast and I was ready as it sprang again before I had fully turned. I dropped to my knees and slashed as it sailed over me. The Beast twisted in the air, almost somersaulting. My sword connected but so did its swiping front claws. But it hit my mail, not my flesh, and tumbled past me.

I struck again as it hit the ground and this time it howled in rage as my sword bit deeper.

I struck again as blood gushed from the Beast’s side and, this time, managed the killing blow. The Beast slumped to the ground and I twisted to look for the next opponent.

But around me, my squad had done their job. There were several more dead Beasts in wolf and hybrid forms, and the others had fled. My knights were regrouping quickly, gathering horses and wiping weapons clean. I strode across to where Gavin, my squad leader, was bent over one of the fallen Beasts, searching through the man’s clothing with efficient movements.

“Anything?” I asked.

Gavin looked up at me. He’d caught a blow on the side of the face earlier, and his cheek was turning purple under the blood spatters. “Nothing.”

“Hell’s balls,” I swore softly, then bent down and struck a match, trying to figure out the color of the man’s eyes. Beast packs tend to run true to type, though of course there are exceptions. And there are those who operate outside the pack structures. The dead man had light brown hair and gray eyes. Two of the three dead wolves were brown too and the third was darker, almost black.

“What do you think?” Gavin asked.

“The black is most likely a Krueger. The brown could be a few packs. I don’t recognize this one.” I brushed my fingertips over the man’s eyelids, shutting away the dead staring eyes.

“With the gray eyes . . . Favreau, perhaps?”

“Maybe.” There was no way to prove it if no one came to claim the bodies. “Favreaus usually stay out of things.”

“Christophe Favreau used to, under Lucius. He was content with his bite of the gin dens. But things change.”

I bit down the desire to swear again. Many things had changed since Lucius left. The former Blood Lord had been ruthless and twisted, but there had been some degree of stability in the Night World under his iron rule. I had agreed he’d needed killing—the secret he’d discovered had been too dangerous, not to mention that he’d been targeting my brother, Simon—but I’d hoped his death would be the end of the City’s troubles, not the beginning of new ones.

It had become increasingly obvious over the last few weeks that that had been wishful thinking.

Which meant I had to try again to convince Simon and Lily that they could well be in danger. My brother and his fiancée had met when Lucius sent Lily to kill Simon. Instead—and I still wasn’t sure how it had happened—they had fallen in love. And then they’d teamed up to kill Lucius to save Lily’s life and to keep the secret of the powers her wraith blood could bestow on a vampire. They’d been convinced that would be the end of things.

I wasn’t so sure. For some reason, Lucius had wanted Simon dead. There might be other Blood Lords who felt the same way, not to mention many who had grudges against Lily. The unrest in the City might just provide a tempting cover for someone who wanted to try again.

I straightened, shaking my head. Worrying about Simon and Lily had to wait, as would trying to work out what was driving my growing sense that they were in danger. “We’ll take the bodies back to the Brother House, then head back out.” If no one claimed the dead, they’d be buried in the common graves maintained by the order. Hardly a glorious fate. But the likelihood of a pack coming to claim these particular dead was small. “Anyone hurt?”

Gavin looked around, counting heads. “Nothing serious.”

“Good.” As I spoke, I heard the faint tolls of the cathedral bells sounding one a.m. Still three hours to go before our patrol was over. People called the damned city Half-Light, but lately I felt as if I lived only in darkness, guarding the streets while the sun—and the humans we protected—slept. I scrubbed my face, wiping it clean of Beast blood and sweat, and wished desperately for coffee. Tonight was going to be another very long night.

* * *

I pulled Gray’s saddle from his back, wishing for a shorter horse, food, and anything resembling a bed.

None of which were going to appear any time soon. I blew out a breath, trying to ignore the ache in my arms and shoulders, and hoisted the saddle across the stall door to the waiting groom.

Gray’s head drooped. I knew how he felt. The first hints of dawn were starting to lighten the sky—we’d stayed out an extra hour— and the rest of our patrol had been busy. Nothing like the ambush, but more than the usual quota of fights and disturbances in the border boroughs. Hell only knew what was going on deeper into the Night World boroughs. We had no jurisdiction there, so had to confine ourselves to doing what we could on the borders.

I rolled my shoulders again, feeling the bruises where the Beast had clawed me. Once upon a time, I could’ve patrolled all night, slept for an hour, and set out again after breakfast. But I was no longer twenty-one and foolish.

Not even close.

Still, I wasn’t ready to give up patrolling, even if our Abbott General had been dropping some broad hints about promoting me upward again. Upward and inward that would mean. Strategizing and politicking and administrating. All of which were important but about as appealing as a Beast sinking his claws through my guts.

Turning to Gray, I picked up a brush and set to work. Tack I would delegate, but my horse, never. Gray made a halfhearted “where’s breakfast?” snap at my hands before he settled and relaxed under the strokes.

Around us, the sounds of the rest of the patrol seeing to their horses rose and fell in a familiar low babble, mingling with the smells of horses and hay and stables. Soothing in a strange way. I blinked as my eyelids drooped, and snapped to a straighter pose. Which made my shoulders ache more.

Nothing I could do about that right now. Nothing I could do about being tired either. There was much to do before I could sleep. I needed to check on the status of the wounded and report to Father Cho.

The City’s mood was ugly, restless as a nest of vengeful hornets as the Night World shifted and scrapped and attempted to regain some sort of balance in the wake of Lucius’ death. Personally, I’d be happy for the lot of them to kill each other and drag themselves down to hell. Problem was, they’d take a lot of innocent bystanders with them in the process. And protecting those innocent bystanders was my job.

Hell’s balls, I even protected the not quite innocent.

Like my brother, Simon, and his fiancée, Lily. The ones who killed Lucius in the first place. That was knowledge that needed to be kept to as few people as possible for as long as possible.

Killing Lucius was a damned good idea, but if the truth that it had been an assassination ever came to light, it had the potential to cause a rain of shit such as the City hadn’t seen in a good long while.

Everyone was keyed up, on edge. Quick to flare into violence. And of course, you had the criminal elements—if anyone in the Night World could be considered noncriminal elements—taking advantage of the power vacuum to attempt to gain something for themselves.

And I needed to speak to Simon and Lily again about returning to the Brother House.

I finished brushing Gray, filled his feed bin, and left him to rest.

He was the lucky one. No one was filling my feed bin and sending me off to sleep.

The patrol room buzzed with low conversation when I walked through the door. Too low. Everyone was tired. Pushed too hard. And there wasn’t necessarily an end in sight. We were just going to have to bull it out.

I scanned the room, assessing the damage for the night. Apart from the wounded we’d sent to St. Giles, Isaac had a nasty-looking bruise blooming across his left cheek and Sun-Lee’s left hand was roughly wrapped with a bloodstained bandage, but everyone was relatively intact. I counted off twenty-four from the other two patrols. No fatalities tonight, then. Relief lightened my mood slightly as I dropped into the nearest chair.

The move jarred my back and I bit down a curse. Beneath the ache, stiffness was setting in. Add a hot bath to the things I needed before I could sleep.

Because of her.

That girl—woman—whoever the hell she was.

And whatever the hell she’d been up to.

Her face floated in front of my eyes for a moment, sharp lines set off with unexpected curves. Big eyes—maybe green, maybe brown—looking up at me, shocked at first, then wary under her charade of politeness. Her eyes tilted slightly, suggested she had some sort of exotic heritage, whether it be an ancestor from the Silk Provinces or even a Fae. She hadn’t been heavy, though she’d curved nicely into my arms—

I shook my head. There was a thought almost as crazy as feeling nostalgic for Lucius. She was from the border boroughs, if she wasn’t a Night Worlder in truth. She’d been up to something. And I had no time for anything resembling a woman even if she’d been a virtuous flower from one of the finest human families. The ones my mother gave me regular damned updates on.

Simon’s pairing off should’ve assuaged her maternal urge to see us all married—except Hannah, who was still too young—but it hadn’t.

But she’d have to stay disappointed. My path didn’t include a wife and children. Not while I could still swing a sword.

“Attention,” Isaac bellowed, and we all swung to our feet as Father Cho entered the room.

He, as always, waved us to our seats. Not the sort of general who would put the respect due his rank ahead of the needs of tired men.

As we sat, he moved briskly to the front of the room, the silver patches in his close-cropped dark hair looking as though he’d walked through a snowstorm. But it was the rest of us, out there every night walking through the storm. There was too much happening too fast in the Night World. Alliances shifting, players taken off the board and replaced overnight. It made trying to predict where trouble might flare near impossible.

Half the injuries we’d incurred were because of stumbling onto unexpected trouble spots, too-small squads and patrols split up encountering more than we could take on. And now it seemed we might have even more players entering the fray.

Hells, if those Beasts had been Favreaus . . . I rubbed my chin again, not wanting to think about what would happen if more and more factions in the Night World became involved.

We never backed down, but we were paying the price.

And increasingly, we seemed to be just a few steps behind. Tonight’s Beast attack must have been planned. It was unlikely a random group of Beasts would decide to attack a Templar patrol just for the hell of it. Question was, what were they up to?