Bloodkin (16 page)

“DO YOU WANT
to talk?” Vance asked, once we had put a little space between us and the serpiente royal party.

I shook my head. If Aaron succeeded and somehow took the throne, we would hear, and if he got arrested for treason, we would hear that, too. If he ended up needing to flee the palace, he would be able to find us. Malachi’s spells wouldn’t keep Farrell’s son away, especially since he was apparently close to Misha as well.

“Are we still going to Midnight?” I asked.

“Do you think we should?”

“It’s probably the last thing I
want
to do,” I answered, “but I feel like we owe it to them. I’m not sure how seriously Midnight will take us when we need to admit that the Shantel may have trouble delivering payment, but maybe we can learn something useful, like whether Midnight
really has the power to burn the forest. Maybe the sakkri is right, and they’re bluffing. The sakkri seems to believe there’s hope if they just hold out a little longer.”

“Or maybe we can find proof that Midnight has the power to make good on their threat, and we can convince the sakkri to let Shane go.” Vance’s suggestion was the more cynical but likely option. “Either way, we should be very certain of our plan if we decide to go back to Shantel land. I don’t want Midnight to burn down the Shantel forest if we can stop it, but I don’t want to get trapped there again either.”

“We’ll see what Midnight says, then make our next plan,” I said.

The sun was sinking, turning the sky crimson and gold ahead of us, but we decided to keep traveling until we reached our destination. Midnight’s roads were well maintained, and the only predators to stalk them were the vampires themselves.

“There’s no point in reaching Midnight in the morning anyway,” Vance said. “We would only end up waiting for the trainers to wake.”

We reached the building referred to as Midnight proper under the light of a half-moon. I had been there only once before, when we had tried to kill the trainers … though thank God Jeshickah had never realized we were complicit in that failed plot.

That time, I had been too focused on my own terror to
really see anything we passed. This time, as we approached the massive black iron fence, I instinctively looked around for guards. The gate, though ominous, stood open. The plants around its base and the moss across the path made it clear that it was never shut.

“Where are the guards?” I asked.

Ahead of us, a white slate path lit by gently swaying lamps led through a beautiful garden before it reached the grand front doors of Midnight proper. The trees inside were bowed, their branches gracefully weeping, and the leaves that were just beginning to escape their buds were deep red. I recognized the bare, thorny branches of long-stemmed roses that had not yet put out greenery for the spring, but there were other plants I did not know. Night moths danced around blooms the color of bone-deep bruises, and I saw a fox drinking from a stone birdbath depicting a sleeping leopard.

“There are guards,” Vance answered. “You don’t see them, but they see us. If we looked like a threat, they would report to their masters before we ever saw them. If they didn’t know me, they would intercept us once we passed the gate to ask our business.” He started forward and I followed, against my better judgment. “But they do know me, so they won’t give us any trouble. Look.”

He paused to point to a tiny brown sparrow sitting in the gracefully draped branches of a pussy willow. In response to Vance’s acknowledgement, the little bird spread
its wings and ducked its head as if in a curtsy—not a natural position for a bird.

“Shapeshifter?” I asked.

I had expected vampire guards. Even knowing that the market guards were all shapeshifters, I hadn’t thought that they would be trusted to do that kind of work here in the heart of the empire.

Vance nodded. “Most of the guards are.”

I couldn’t help but wonder what had driven this little sparrow to leave her own kind and come here. Was she lonely? Or did bloodtraitors like her have their own community somewhere, friends and maybe even families? Had she come here willingly, or been forced to it?

If the Obsidian guild hadn’t taken me in, would I have ended up here, too?

The sparrow watched us as we approached the heavy mahogany front door. It seemed so odd that Vance could reach out, lift the latch, and let himself in as if it were nothing.

The front hall was lit with a chandelier in a vaulted ceiling, and then a series of wall sconces in the hallways leading off to the left and right. Here, both doors were blocked by posted guards in crisp uniforms. I was sure one of them was a serpent, though I didn’t otherwise recognize his face.

I was still looking at the guards when Vance said, “The artwork is mostly done by members of Katama’s line. That’s one of Brina’s paintings, there.”

We were surrounded by spectacular art. Even the wooden chair rails that divided the lower section of the wall from the upper had been carved and stained to show an elaborate jungle scene. The painting that Vance had pointed out portrayed a beautiful woman with fair skin and dark hair—Mistress Jeshickah, lounging against a leopard with a white pelt, blue eyes, and black spots.

How could creatures apparently immune to the pain of those they ruled care enough to want, much less create, such breathtaking beauty?

“This way,” Vance said. The serpent guard stepped aside to let us pass into a hallway just as grand as the entry. If Vance was nervous to be here, he was hiding it well.

“Why is it all so
pretty
?” I asked, disgusted by the contrast between what I saw and what I knew happened here.

“If we had gone down the other hall, you would have seen a black door, and then an end to all pretense, since that’s where the common slaves sleep and do their daily work,” Vance answered. “This is the wing where the trainers and most respected guests reside. If luxury didn’t appeal to them, they wouldn’t make such an effort to rule.”

“Do we need an appointment?” I asked as we turned a corner and entered a hall lined with closed doors. This didn’t seem like a place visitors were welcome.

“If we wanted to speak to Mistress Jeshickah personally, we would need an appointment,” Vance answered, “but one of the trainers is probably available.”

“And you know where they are, and can just knock on the door.”

Whatever my voice held—terror, judgment, shame, reluctance?—it was enough to make Vance stop in his tracks and turn to me. “Yes, I can,” he answered, looking uneasy. “And I will, because I want to get this over with as much as you do.”

As we walked down the hallway, a woman approached us. She was petite, and stepped softly, her bare feet making no sound on the plush carpet. The dress she wore was simple, with ties at the throat and around the waist giving it much of its shape, but what caught my eye was the thin black band around her neck.

The collar was perhaps half an inch wide, and closed with a buckle that anyone could reach up to remove.

The only thing more disconcerting than the ink-black mark of ownership was the way she dropped her gaze and gave a half curtsy when she noticed Vance.

Vance hesitated, and he looked back at me with clear discomfort before he asked her, “Is Jaguar in?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I believe Master Jaguar is occupied with his new project,” the woman replied, her voice soft and her gaze never rising from the floor. “He gave instructions that he was not to be disturbed this evening.”

“Sir?” I echoed. It was hard to imagine anyone addressing Vance in such a way, but here was proof right in front of me.

“What about Taro?” Vance asked, ignoring me.

The woman shook her head. “He and Master Varick are in a conference with—”

“Never mind,” Vance interrupted. “Kadee, we might need to wait a while after all. I’m sorry.”

“I believe Master Gabriel is in, if you need to speak to one of the trainers,” the woman suggested.

Vance shook his head, and told her, “You can go.”

“I don’t want to stay here any longer than necessary,” I said. “Is Gabriel actually worse than any of the others?”

I understood why Vance didn’t want to face Gabriel so soon after learning about Alasdair. I didn’t want to look him in the eye either, but that didn’t mean the others would actually be any kinder or easier to deal with.

The decision was made for us as one of the doors burst open, making us jump as it slammed into the wall and nearly bounced back into its frame. I thought at first that the slave we had just spoken to had fallen, but then I realized that she had gone swiftly to her knees.

The first person to emerge, however, was not a vampire.

“
Damn
you to Hell and back!” Misha spat as she stumbled into the hallway.

No!
I wanted to scream. The serpiente must have captured her again, somehow, or else she single-handedly decided to assault Midnight. Misha’s fair skin was darkened with bruises and raised with welts.

The man who came to the door did not seem concerned
with Misha’s anger. Instead, he looked amused, especially as he glanced past her and noticed Vance and me in the hallway.

Misha turned to fix her moss-green eyes on me with a look that should have been hot enough to spark. Rage, hatred … madness?

“What is she doing here?” Vance demanded, insanely, of the trainer.

“Vance, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” the vampire replied, “but you know perfectly well I won’t discuss another’s private business.”

People had told me many times that the trainers were handsome, and terribly charming when they wanted to be. I didn’t think this one was trying to be charming, exactly, but it would have been hard to imagine him as evil if I didn’t know that some of the most beautiful serpents were also often the most poisonous.

“She’s not …” I only made it halfway through the question, because having the trainer look directly at me made my stomach twist.

“She’s free to go,” he answered. “Misha, it looks like I have another appointment waiting, so we’ll have to continue this conversation another time.”

Misha drew a deep breath and asked in a carefully even tone, “But we have our deal, right?”

“As agreed,” he answered.

“That’s all that matters.”

She turned on her heel, but before she could leave, I posed Vance’s question again. “What are you
doing
here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she snapped back. “We’re camped just a few hours to the south. I’ll see you there when your
business
here is done.”

She said
business
like it was something dirty. Since that was exactly how I felt about this whole situation with the Shantel, the word cut deep, silencing me while Misha stormed past us without further question or explanation.

The trainer continued our conversation as if my brief exchange with Misha had been irrelevant. “Vance, please do introduce me to your friend,” he said.

“This is Kadee Obsidian,” Vance answered. “Kadee, this is—” He stopped there.

The vampire chuckled, and offered his hand to me. “Gabriel,” he introduced himself, though I had already guessed as much. He glanced at Vance as he said, “They say children of Obsidian don’t use titles, but old habits die hard, don’t they?”

Vance nodded tightly. When guards in the market talked about the vampires, they always used titles:
Mistress
or
Master
for Jeshickah and her trainers, and
Sir
,
Lord
, or
Lady
for the others. It wasn’t a leap to imagine that Vance had been taught the same way.

I didn’t have the nerve to refuse to shake the vampire’s hand, though I wanted to. Gabriel was the one who had hired us to capture Alasdair. He was surely the one who
still caused the night terrors that brought shrieks to Misha’s throat in the middle of the night. And in the end, he was the one in whose not-so-tender “care” Shkei had died.

I wanted his hand to be cold and clammy, confirmation of his monstrous nature, but instead was surprised to discover that his skin was almost as warm as Vance’s. People said vampires were dead, pretty corpses preserved and animated by magic, but if so, why were they warm? Why weren’t they as cold as dead flesh should be?

“Is Misha all right?” I asked. He had already refused to tell Vance what Misha was doing here, so I didn’t ask about that. I wanted confirmation that she hadn’t been sold back in to Midnight. Was “free to go” temporary?

“Your would-be future queen is fine,” Gabriel replied. “She came here of her own free will and is leaving the same way, albeit with a few more bruises, but that’s the cost of asking favors sometimes. Now, what did you need?”

Not a favor, I hope
.

“We’ve come to relay a message from the Shantel,” Vance said, “and possibly to propose a deal on their behalf. Do you have time?”

“I always have time to make deals with your guild,” Gabriel replied. “You do offer the prettiest toys. Vance, did you ever meet my Ashley?”

Vance nodded as the once princess of the avians came to the door.

She was as lovely as I remembered her, with creamy fair
skin and hair and eyes the color of beaten gold. The gown she wore was elegant, deep crimson velvet that flattered her form without being lewd. It was still obscene, though, because it perfectly matched the leather collar around her throat. If she recognized me as one of the ones responsible for her capture, she made no indication.

She was named after the first queen of the avians
, I thought. Malachi had told me that one day, while we were stalking her, waiting for our opportunity.
You had to take even that away from her, didn’t you?

“Beautiful, fetch our guests some refreshments, and let Jeshickah know that they’ve come to negotiate for the Shantel,” Gabriel commanded the hawk.
His slave
. “We’ll meet in the library. Vance, I believe you know the way? I’ll join you as soon as I have cleaned up.” He held up a hand, and I realized for the first time that there was blood streaked across the back of it. His black clothing was probably hiding more. Was it all Misha’s?