Ty considered a moment longer, but he’d already made his decision. Damien was insufferable on many levels, but he would be an invaluable source of knowledge for what he was about to embark on. And if he turned on him, which he might, Ty would kill him with no remorse.
“We’ll just have to make do. Are you going to behave, or am I going to have to remove the arm this time?”
Damien grimaced and twisted a little beneath Ty’s hand, but at last he relented. “Fine. Only because it’s a better death than what my masters would give me. You’re a miserable bastard, MacGillivray. Far worse than I remembered. And under the circumstances, that is
not
a compliment. Now let me go.”
Ty released his head, and Damien got slowly to his feet, watching him warily.
“What is your plan? Or am I not allowed to ask?” he said.
“We’re going to convince Vlad Dracul to help us destroy Nero and save Lily.” It sounded like madness, Ty knew. But it was what he had.
Damien groaned and looked like he was going to be sick. It was deeply satisfying.
“Damn it, Ty, why do you even care? They’ll kill us, kill her. Nero will get what he wants. And believe me, he wants it all. I’ve never met a monster like him, and that’s saying something. This is pointless!”
“I love her.” There they were, those words he hadn’t been able to say, even to himself, until it was too late. The one thing in his entire life he was still sure of.
Damien looked aghast. “I’m going to die for some pathetic sentiment? Listen to me, Ty. Two cats
cannot do this
. We would need at least a third, and even then there’s only the barest chance.”
Another voice, both familiar and welcome, sounded at Ty’s side. “Good thing I see three cats, then.”
“Jaden.” Relief flooded through him and nearly brought him to his knees. This was the missing piece. The three of them could manage what he was thinking. Yes, with two other Cait, he had a fighting chance of setting this right.
If they made it through, things would change, and drastically. He was done with the Ptolemy. But so much more awaited him, if he was strong enough to catch hold of it. His blood brother’s black-rimmed eyes were somber when Ty turned to look at him.
“I heard about the raid,” Jaden said. “I came as quickly as I could.”
“It was Nero,” Ty said, and the name tasted like poison on his tongue. “All of it was Nero.”
Jaden looked grim, but unsurprised. He gave a single nod. “What do you want to do?”
“He wants to die,” Damien snapped. “And he’d like you to join us, no doubt.”
Jaden raised his eyebrows at Damien, then turned a questioning look on Ty.
“Damien’s coming with us. I’ll explain on the way. We haven’t got much time,” Ty said. He was grateful when Jaden only nodded again. Damien gave nothing but a resigned sigh, and Ty knew he would have the help he needed from him as well. Now all he needed was luck, and time.
He hoped, for once in his life, the gods would see fit to give him both.
Vlad Dracul was not a man who enjoyed a great deal of company. Particularly not these days, when most of his visitors either wanted to kill him or were bearing messages from people who did. So he was less than receptive to the idea when Marco, his butler, arrived in the doorway of the library with the news that a trio of Cait Sith were darkening his doorstep and refusing to leave without an audience.
“Another message from Arsinöe, I suppose?” Vlad
asked, carefully marking his place in the book he’d just settled down with for the evening and setting it aside. He’d been increasingly on edge the past few weeks, waiting for the declaration of war he knew was coming. The Ptolemy queen had always hated him, but until recently, even he had not realized how deep that hatred ran.
“I don’t think so, sir. They’re a bit… scruffier… than her usual messengers. One looks like he’s been in a fight. I made them show me their marks. The one with the black eye is a Shade, if you can believe it. The other two are Ptolemy cats, but there’s something off about them.”
“There’s no woman with them?” Vlad asked, trying to keep his voice even. When Anura had come to him, he’d hardly dared to believe her words could be true. The mysteries and legends surrounding the long-dead Lilim were a particular preoccupation of his. Maybe it was because he’d always thought that Lilith would have been a natural ally of his. Why wouldn’t an heir? And now, more than ever, he needed a reliable ally, Vlad thought, his jaw tightening.
But it seemed that whoever this woman Anura had met was, she had slipped through his fingers.
“They gave you no indication of what they want?” Vlad asked.
Marco shook his head. “No, sir. The tall one, one of the Ptolemy cats, said he’d talk only to you. I would have found a way to get them off the property, but considering…” Marco trailed off, and Vlad knew what he was thinking. Ludo had done plenty of talking before Vlad had gotten to him and told him to shut up.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t try,” said an unfamiliar voice.
Vlad watched with interest as a rangy, dark-haired man appeared in a shadowy corner of the dimly lit room, leaning against the bookcases. Intense silver eyes watched him unblinkingly.
Marco roared an obscenity and started for the intruder, but Vlad held up a hand. At the simple gesture, his well-trained butler stilled, though his expression betrayed his unhappiness about it.
“Leave us, Marco. It’s all right.”
His hulking, would-be protector hesitated, his golden eyes darting around the room. “But, sir, the others—”
“Are in here somewhere, I’m sure. Consider it a lesson, Marco. Cats left on the doorstep will generally find another way in.” He waved the butler off. “Go. I’ll call if we need anything.”
When the door had been shut, Vlad turned his full attention to his glaring visitor. He was impressed, despite himself, at how easily he’d gotten in. But then, he knew very well about being underestimated.
“Have a seat. Your friends as well. MacGillivray, isn’t it?”
The other two materialized from behind pieces of furniture, one who could have been MacGillivray’s brother and another who did indeed look to have been in fight, though the wounds were close to healed. Both looked to MacGillivray for a signal, marking him as their leader.
Interesting.
The ornery Cait Sith shook his head. “Thank you, but there’s no time. I’m Tynan MacGillivray. These are my blood brothers Jaden and Damien. We’ve come because the Ptolemy have taken Lily Quinn, the woman Anura told you about.” He paused. “She’s Lilith’s heir.”
Excitement threatened to bubble over, but years of practiced restraint kept it in check. Vlad feigned polite interest. “Forgive me if I find that hard to believe,” he said smoothly. “Of course, if you have proof, that’s a different story.”
Tynan’s eyes narrowed. “You sent your thugs after her on Anura’s word. Mine’s not good enough for you?”
Vlad shrugged, recognizing both the temper and the pride blazing at him through those angry slits. “I don’t know you. All I know is that your house is about to declare war on me. Why should I believe you?”
People rarely surprised him, but Tynan managed it when he cleared most of the room in a single, fluid leap, grabbed him by the throat, and pinned him to his leather wingback chair. No one had dared do such a thing in ages. Vlad went still with shock, torn between fury and amusement. He could have turned the tables and had this upstart and his head parted from each other in a heartbeat… he was pretty sure. It was that uncertainty that held his interest and stayed his hand.
“Careful, cat. I didn’t get to rule a dynasty for nothing.”
“I don’t have time for careful either,” Tynan growled, but he released his grip and took a small step back. “Lily is the real thing. I’ve seen her power, and she’s told me about the vision she has, about the end of the Lilim. And”—he hesitated—“I had my own vision of Lilith just last night. Like a dream, but not. I understand what’s happening now, but it isn’t going to matter. The Ptolemy have taken Lily. Arsinöe thinks she’s just a Seer and wants to use her to have a vision of your people using the Mulo against hers. Proof to launch a war.”
Vlad cursed softly. “Is that what this is about? A Mulo?
She really thinks I’d be fool enough to use a Romany curse against her kind? That’s about as subtle as putting my intentions on a flashing sign outside!”
“She hates the Dracul. Not just hates, but she also wants you wiped from the face of the night,” the one called Jaden pointed out. “Maybe that wouldn’t be enough, but she’s isolated herself with a bunch of highbloods who are happy to feed her paranoia.” He looked at Tynan. “One highblood in particular.”
“Her people are dying,” Tynan said. “It was easy to play her. It doesn’t excuse half of what she’s done, but she’s not the source of this. If you want to avoid what’s coming, we need your help.”
Stunned, Vlad looked at the three of them, lowbloods with enough bravery to stand against the house that had traditionally enslaved them even when there was little hope of success. The Ptolemy were a force unto themselves.
“Say I believe you,” Vlad said slowly. “What do you offer in return for what you ask? Because if I help you and fail, my dynasty burns.”
“It burns regardless if you refuse to help us,” Tynan pointed out. “Nero, the Ptolemy behind this, will make it happen. He’s not the sort of man who leaves anything to chance. I’m sure he had a contingency plan for Lily actually showing up. And now that he knows what she is, I don’t know what he’ll do to her.”
Hearing the concern in Tynan’s voice, Vlad lifted an eyebrow. “You do this for the woman, then.”
“My reasons are my own. They don’t matter to you. Help us, and you avoid war and gain an important ally.”
“You can promise me this alliance on the Lilim’s behalf, then? Your word is binding?”
“It is,” Tynan replied without hesitation.
“And if I say no?” Vlad asked, calmly folding one ankle over his knee and leaning back into the chair.
The cat’s eyes flashed. “Then if your dynasty survives, which I very much doubt, you will have gained an enemy far more powerful than the Ptolemy. That is something I can
also
promise you.”
The tension in the room was oppressive. Vlad had no doubt the three of them would fight him if they had to. Nor did he doubt that Tynan was anything less than serious about getting the woman back with or without his help. But of course he wouldn’t have to, Vlad thought, quietly thrilling at the chance he had been given this night.
Slowly, he smiled and extended his hand, relishing the surprise on Tynan MacGillivray’s face.
“Well, then,” Vlad said. “Well met, brother cat. Let’s get started.”
L
ILY WAS LOCKED
securely into the most beautiful room she’d ever been in. The Ptolemy guard who had shut her in had explained, with a very pleasant smile, that should she figure out a way to escape, things would go very badly indeed for her once night fell. He never specified exactly what “very badly indeed” meant, but he didn’t really have to. She’d spent three nights watching the way these Ptolemy operated.
She got it.
Beautiful new clothes had been brought for her, laid out on the bed in preparation for her arrival. All designer labels, all the right size.
It was a little scary.
Maybe she would have been flattered by the attention or excited to have it lavished on her, if she hadn’t known what she knew. But no matter how warm Arsinöe turned out to be, all Lily could think of were the scars on Jaden’s back, and the scars that Ty so obviously carried within
himself. She didn’t know if Arsinöe was responsible for those, but she’d certainly played on them.
Lily lay on the massive bed, staring at the ceiling and waiting for something to happen. She was in a beautiful old home in the middle of nowhere, in what she understood to be a favored seat of Ptolemy power tucked away in rural Maryland. Out her window, she could see what appeared to be a large river running alongside a small sand beach not far from the house. Peaceful. Beautiful. But she couldn’t relax a single bit, despite how well taken care of she’d been thus far.
Something big was happening tonight. Lily could actually feel the tension crackling among the Ptolemy who’d checked in on her. It set her nerves on edge, and her nerves were pretty shot at this point anyway. But she’d been instructed to wash herself, to dress in the clothes purchased for her, to make herself fit for a proper audience with the queen.
Somehow, Lily managed it. She showered with the scented soaps and shampoos that had been provided, fascinating concoctions in little glass containers that she knew had been home blended. The smell of them was a little more opulent than what she usually wore. Heavy on the spice and musk. Still, they were better than the cheap sample bottles or, worse, guy shampoo she’d been using when she’d had a spare minute and a shower handy these past few days.
So she bathed, then dressed, little rituals that held some small amount of comfort because she was still alive to do them. In the bathroom mirror, rubbing a clear spot into the steam, Lily studied her mark. It seemed somehow more vibrant than before, glittering there on her fair skin. She
sighed and covered it with her shirt, knowing it was going to cause trouble if it was seen. Serious trouble. Potentially life-ending trouble. And counting on a bout of ghostly possession to save her this time seemed like a long shot.