Blood Kin (6 page)

The streets were safe during the day as long as one was sensible. Which was the reason I’d chosen it for the salon. It was the safest place for Reggie to be, and the location wouldn’t deter any potential customers. At least, not any potential customers who were the sort of women who would frequent a border borough modiste.

I ducked around a pie cart and crossed the street to the underground. Gills End Station was a minor one, being so close to Melchior, but it was on the correct line for where I wanted to go. I was unlikely to find a hackney or an autocab willing to take me to my destination, and walking would take too long and be too dangerous even at this time of day.

When I emerged thirty minutes or so later into the streets of Sorrows Hill, the mood was entirely different. Quieter for one thing in the middle of the day. Which made sense when many of the residents would be sleeping the day around underground.

Not that the lack of Blood made the streets any safer during the day. I hooked a see-me-not charm onto the button of my glove. It wasn’t the same as invisibility but would make me less likely to draw unwanted attention.

I had my cutthroat under my skirts and a pistol in my bag, but I preferred not to get into trouble in the first place to having to try and fight my way out of it.

Luckily my destination was in the opposite direction to the main Blood warren and not too far from the station. Since Lucius had died or vanished or whatever it actually was that had happened, there had been an increased amount of violence around the warrens and I was more than happy to avoid them.

Still, by the time I lifted the ornate brass knocker on the door of the redbrick town house, I was cursing the one who’d called me here for more than the usual reasons.

After all, he had more than one residence available to choose from in the City. Hell, he could even have summoned me to Summerdale—or one of the nearby villages given he was unlikely to ask a half-breed to actually enter the Veiled World.

Making me traipse across the town and into danger was another way of him making a point. That I would come when he called. Whenever and wherever.

My father is like that.

I didn’t know the tall, handsome young man who opened the door so I simply gave my name. He nodded with a half bow and ushered me up the stairs into a sitting room.

“I’m here,” I said as my father turned from the window.

Cormen sa’Inviel’astar studied me for a moment.

I gazed back. My father is horribly handsome, in the way of the Fae. His hair is a deep gleaming brown, the color of polished mahogany or very expensive brandy, and his eyes are true bronze, unlike the strange light green-brown shade of mine. It’s easy to see why my mother was so enchanted by him. Especially as he looks no older now than he does in my earliest memories of him.

His Family name means “bright night over the hills” or something close enough to it, and I suppose to some he shines like the evening star. I know to my mother he does. Even now, despite everything he’s done to her.

But to me, he’s simply the bastard who fathered me and destroyed my mother.

He frowned slightly at me and I resisted the urge to rub my chest, where his damned pendant lay hidden beneath my clothes. The gold suddenly seemed cold against my skin. I hated the weight of it. Hated what it represented.

Not an acknowledgment of me as his child, no, for that he would need to give me a Family ring, and one of my fingers would be covered from knuckle to knuckle with a veritable blaze of jewels. No, this was something different. More a brand to my way of thinking, marking me as belonging to him if anyone else should come poaching.

It was spelled, so I couldn’t take it off. Which had led to some interesting episodes in bed, but I usually claimed it had too much sentimental value to remove. Hardly the truth, but the men I took to my bed were there for things other than interest in my sentiments.

I was sometimes tempted to wear it outside my clothes, hoping somebody might try to steal it. But they’d have to cut off my head to achieve that aim. So I kept it hidden from view.

Much as my father kept me hidden from the view of the Veiled World. Though, to be fair, most of the Fae who produced half-breeds did that. Some, though, had the decency to leave those offspring alone.

Not my father.

The silence stretched and I realized he was waiting for me to greet him more correctly.

“Sir.” I inclined my head politely. No “Father” or “Papa” between us. No, things had to be properly respectful for the bastard and her sire.

He acknowledged me with a nod, much shallower than mine had been, then waved his hand toward the chair. “Sit.”

I did so. Things would be over faster if I didn’t make a fuss. And I preferred to spend as little time as possible with my father. My mother had mourned and missed him when he’d left. I’d hated him for abandoning us, for what he’d done to her. It was because of him I’d learned to harden my heart, set my eyes on my goals, and let nothing stop me. I’d learned to survive because I’d had to.

But I would never forgive him for changing from the indulgent charming father of my childhood to this distant stranger who seemed to view me as nothing more important than a possession he kept on a seldom-viewed shelf, to be taken out and put to use occasionally.

I had, from time to time, spied for him. For a price. I charged him more than my other clients. I figured he owed me that much. After all, a good portion of my money went toward keeping Mama in comfort at the sanatorium. And it was no one’s fault but his that she needed such a refuge in the first place.

I crossed my hands neatly in my lap and stared up at him. I wasn’t going to ask first. No, if he wanted something, he could be the one asking.

“I have a task for you,” he said, voice cool.

“Oh?” My stomach curled a little. Damn. It was barely six months since the last task I’d performed for him, retrieving a trinket he’d misplaced in a Beast pack house. Probably while fucking the daughter of the Alpha. That was Cormen’s usual mode. Screw someone over or screw something up and call in someone else to clean up his bloody mess.

“There’s some information I wish to acquire.”

Damn. Not even stealing. Spying. Spying was always more complicated. I set my teeth, forced myself to a politely encouraging smile.

“It involves the humans.”

I bounced out of the chair.
“No
.
”

I didn’t spy on the human world. Denizens of the Night World and the border boroughs, yes. Any humans there had made their choices. But the rest of the human world was off-limits. Too dangerous. Human laws were much stricter about transgressions involving the human boroughs. I had no desire to hang or lose a hand.

“Sit down,” he snapped.

I stood my ground. “No. Spying on humans is too risky.”

“You won’t come to any harm.”

“Oh? And how do you intend to guarantee that?”

“You keep telling me that you’re good at what you do. If you are, there is no risk.”

“What if I’m not as good as I think I am?”

He waved a dismissive hand, as if that were of no importance to him. It probably wasn’t. He believed that I wouldn’t rat him out if I ever fell foul of the law. I wasn’t so sure but didn’t want his attention to turn to my mother with a vengeful purpose, so I probably would hold my tongue. He wouldn’t care what happened to me, of course, only what affect the knowledge of his offspring being so careless and troublesome might have on his standing within the Family and the court.

I stared at him. What game was he playing anyway? Why spy on the humans? The Veiled Queen was a tireless supporter of the treaty and maintaining peace between the races and wouldn’t look kindly on those who wished to take a different tack, from what I heard in the Night World gossip mills.

Then my heart sank a little because I realized that if there were those arrogant enough to try and stage some sort of rebellion or coup amongst the Fae, blinded enough by their own sense of self-worth and self-importance to take on the might of the Veiled Queen, then my father would definitely be amongst their number. He had always been astonishingly certain of his inestimable value and exalted place in the world.

“What is so important that you need me?” I asked. I phrased my question carefully. Nothing that could be taken as agreement. Not yet. You had to watch your words amongst the Fae. They didn’t lie, but they could misdirect with the best of them. They also considered someone’s word to be binding. So I wasn’t giving any hint of agreement at this stage.

“You have heard of the sunmage, Simon DuCaine?”

My heart took another little dive south. Shit. If the rumors were to be believed, it was trying to assassinate Simon DuCaine that had ultimately brought about Lucius’ downfall. Lucius who had ruled the Blood and the Night World with an iron-spiked fist for several centuries. And now my father wanted to tangle with him?

More to the point, wanted
me
to tangle with him?

“Yes, I know about him.” Most people did. Simon was a Master Healer at St. Giles, the biggest hospital in the human boroughs. St. Giles was a Haven, sanctuary to any who claimed it, and Simon was famous throughout the City for treating anyone who sought his help. Plus he was powerful, the strongest sunmage to come along for quite some time. They said he could call sunlight at night.
Please, please, please, let it not be him
.

“Then you must know that he is suspected of being involved in the death of the Blood Lord.”

“I’ve heard rumors,” I said cautiously, brain working fast. Did Cormen have proof? That would be worth quite a bit to a number of my clients.

“I believe the rumors to be true,” he said. “Sources tell me that he is living with Lucius’ shadow. That he is going to marry her.”

His tone was incredulous. The Fae hate wraiths, which was what Lucius’ former chief assassin was. I’ve never quite figured out what makes wraiths different from the rest of us half-breeds—for one thing, I’ve never been able to confirm exactly what parentage a wraith has—but I know that they are abominations to the Fae instead of mere annoying embarrassments or mistakes to be largely ignored like the rest of us.

For a moment I envied her—this woman who had such a fearsome reputation in the Night World for merciless death. If my father would only decide I was an abomination, then he might leave me alone.

For good.

“Is that what you want me to find out? If he is marrying the wraith?” I didn’t think it would be. Such a thing would be far too easy to confirm using whatever “sources” he maintained in the human world.

He shook his head, so his hair shone redly in the sunlight filtering through the lacy curtains. He wore it long, past his shoulders, though not so long as the Blood Lords. Vanity.

“No. I wish to find out why it was that Lucius marked him for death.”

My mouth went dry. There it was. One of the biggest mysteries in the Night World. What had happened between Lucius and the sunmage? Lucius had apparently not survived it. Yet my father wanted me to poke around and see what I could find out.

I had no illusions that something or someone powerful enough to put an end to Lucius would have no difficulty disposing of me if I came to their attention for trying to find out their secrets. I shook my head. “No. It’s too dangerous.”

“This is not a request,” he said in a low voice.

“The answer’s still no. I’m not risking my life by getting in the middle of this. It’s got politics and treachery written all over it.” My father’s interest was the ultimate proof of that.

He cocked his head slightly, looking bored. “I was afraid that you would take this attitude. How many times have I told you that you need to cultivate the proper respect?”

I straightened my spine. “Respectfully, no,” I repeated.

He sighed. “Then you leave me with no choice.” He made a gesture and suddenly I was frozen in place, my brain recognizing the movement a split second too late to react.

“You wouldn’t,” I spat.

“If you would be reasonable, I wouldn’t have to,” he said, making it sound as though this was all my fault.

I tried to move, but everything below my neck had effectively turned to stone. For a moment I wondered, if I said that I would do as he wished, would he release me? But then he made another gesture and it was too late to do anything.

I felt the spell settle over me like an invisible net, feeling sticky and somehow dirty as it clung to my skin. It clogged my mouth and throat so I couldn’t even scream the outrage I felt.

A geas. A fucking geas. One of the nastiest forms of Fae magic, one most of them avoided.

Rage flared, hot and furious, made worse because, by some quirk of nature, most Fae magics didn’t touch me.

Part of the reason the Fae didn’t like half-breeds was that no two of us were the same in terms of what we could or couldn’t do. The Fae don’t approve of disorder and surprises. Not being susceptible to other Fae’s magic had served me well. I could see through glamours and avoid spells. Of course, the other side of that coin was my own talent largely being limited to working on myself and usually fading quickly on anyone else.

But Cormen’s magic always worked on me. He said it was because of our shared blood. Another reason I had always avoided going to Summerdale and the Veiled World. I didn’t want to discover whether other members of his Family could bespell me at will.

“Holly,” he said. It was the first time I’d heard him use my name in years. A geas requires a name. “Holly, you will hear my words and obey.”

The invisible net sank a little deeper, burning my skin now as the geas tightened its grip. Tears stung my eyes as I stared at him, hoping the look on my face told him exactly what I thought of him and his stinking magic.

A geas—a binding—overrides free will and forces you to do the caster’s bidding. Under the terms of the treaty, the Fae were forbidden to cast them on humans. Lucky for my father, I was exempt from that protection because of my half-breed status.

“You will go to the sunmage Simon DuCaine and you will find out his secret,” Cormen said. “You will tell no one but me what you discover.”