King's Gambit (17 page)

“Bull-fucking-shit–”

“That’s quite enough, Tomas,” said Flavius.

“Just because you weren’t there in person, doesn’t mean you had nothing to do with Sergei’s death,” said Allison, her voice as nondescript as her features.

“Allison,” Flavius said warningly, his lips pursed so tight he may as well have swallowed them. “It seems things have gotten a bit tense. In situations like these, I find a breath – for lack of a better word – of fresh air helps calm the spirit. I would be happy to address any further questions at a later time – simply forward all inquiries to my office. If the people at the main table could remain for a moment…” He gave the rest of the audience a nod. “Good evening.”

I watched everyone trail out, purposefully ignoring Tomas’ eye daggers. A black-haired woman lingered at the doorway, staring at my accuser, before the remaining herd urged her forward.

“That’s why I never sired,” mastiff-man said. “Never know when they’ll mouth off or do something else to embarrass you.”

“Ah.” Flavius nodded, looking even more constipated than he had when Allison was speaking. “Another pearl of wisdom from our dear Mister Jones. Actually, you may be surprised to learn that I encourage Miss Rollins to speak her mind.”

“Yeah? Is that why you look like she stuck her fist up your–”

“I think we’re getting a bit off topic,” said Elise.

“For once, we are in agreement,” Allison huffed, her face twisted up like she just chugged a gallon of sour milk mixed with roaches. “Tell me, Miss Maxwell,” she said as if the roaches had started crawling out of her ass, “why was your number the last call on Sergei’s phone?”

I shrugged. “He heard about Zhen – my condolences, by the way – and was worried he would be next. He wanted my help.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” she said.

“Because she’s a liar,” said Tomas.

“Relax, kid,” said Jones. “Do you have any proof?”

“I saw her.”

“And I see her now. What’s your point?”

“Enough! Really, you’re all worse than children,” Flavius muttered.

“If I may, your worship,” said Elise. “Blood doesn’t lie. We can determine culpability with a quick ritual.”

“Like you won’t doctor the results,” said Tomas.

Elise didn’t even blink. “Know your place.”

“Know
your
place,” Allison sneered. “Tomas is one of Zhen’s ghouls, doesn’t he have a right to justice?”

“Yes,” said Elise, “that’s what you’re interested in: justice.”

Her sneer turned into a snarl. “You–”

“What exactly is so difficult to understand about the word ‘enough’?” Flavius pinched the bridge of his nose while the two women glared at each other. “Miss Maxwell, do you consent to…whatever Miss Dubois is proposing?”

I turned to her suspiciously. “What are you going to do to me?”

Apparently, she’d reached her dumbass threshold, because she rolled her eyes until I saw nothing but white. “A simple ritual. All I require is some of your blood.”

I admit I’d warmed up to Elise in the time (Had it really only been three days? Wow, I
am
easy.) we’d known each other, but that didn’t mean I was going to burst open a vein for her. We were working towards a common goal, but we weren’t suddenly friends. True friends were hard to come by in this world; an ally today could be your worst enemy tomorrow.

“Don’t you have a truth serum, instead?”

“Since you seem to have forgotten,” she said, looking down at me, “truth serums take hours to brew and have a limited shelf life.”

I wanted to argue that I
did
know that, but the fear of donating blood was still gnawing at me. “I can wait.”

“See?” Tomas – the prick – scoffed. “Told you. Only a guilty person would refuse.”

“Excuse me?” I stood up and everyone tensed. “First of all, I agreed to take a truth serum. Second, I’m pretty sure most people with even the slightest semblance of arcane knowledge – which I’m assuming you have because you’re a mage’s ghoul – knows that it’s dangerous to give a thaumaturge their blood. And finally, why don’t you put your money where your smartass mouth is? Let Elise perform the ritual on you. Tell us where you were the night Robert Franklin was killed. Zhen’s other ghoul, Julia, was there. How about you?”

“Zhen’s ghoul was involved in Franklin’s death?” Jones thick grey brows rose. “You’re certain of that, girl?”

“When someone attacks me, I make it a point to remember them.”

He looked to Elise. “How long would it take to prepare a serum?”

“Six hours,” she said.

“The sun will be up by then,” said Flavius. “I would consider postponing this until tomorrow. However, I cannot risk anyone leaving the city.”

“I won’t,” I huffed, crossing my arms.

“She’s lying,” said Tomas.

I’m going to fucking set you on fire.
“
He’s
lying.”

“Maybe you’re both lying,” said Jones.

“Regardless,” said Flavius, “we will find out the truth. Tonight. Unless you two are willing to be incarcerated until the serum is complete.”

Tomas’ jaw dropped. “Hell no! I didn’t do anything.”

“Neither did I.” I rolled my eyes. “See how well that works?”

“I’m not staying.”

“So, you’ll take the test, then?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Neither did I.”

“Just take the damn test.” Allison flipped her hair and sauntered to the exit. “I’m getting that guy, Noah, though. There’s no way I’m trusting Marcus’ former advisor.”

“Noah?” The last thing I needed right now was to be in a room where everyone but me knew each other.

“A traveler,” said Flavius. “He introduced himself and declared he was just passing through.”

Vampires had control issues – especially ones who ruled over entire communities – so there was an unwritten (actually, it probably
was
written somewhere) rule that any vampire entering the city had to introduce themselves and state their intentions for being there to the king. Other supernatural sightings were also encouraged (forced) to be reported.

“He’s a neutral party. I’m sure you can understand the necessity.”

I nodded. So, I wouldn’t be the only outsider. Of course, I’m going to have to give blood a stranger. Whoever proclaimed the scales needed to be balanced could fuck right off.

“You’re consenting, right, girl?” asked Jones.

“Morgan,” I sighed, suddenly wanting nothing more than to give Elise my blood. “I’ll do it. But only if the kid does it, too.”

Tomas glared at me. “I’m sixty.”

“Congratu-fucking-lations.”
Now act like it.

Allison peeked her head in. “Noah says we can meet him in his room.”

“He’s staying in this hotel,” I muttered as everyone filed out. “How convenient.”

“But not unprecedented,” Elise said as we trailed far behind the others. “The Queen’s Hotel is a favorite of our kind due to its proximity to the red light district.”

“Right. Free food. Well, free-ish. Do you think this Noah guy is in leagues with them?”

“I don’t know. What I do know is you can’t fool the test without knowledge of thaumaturgy and magical power at least equal to the caster. Even then, they’ll know you’re trying to circumvent them.”

FML.
“What’s going to happen?”

“If he’s planning on using the same ritual I was, then there will be a container – usually glass, but anything clear will work – and he will cut your arm, allowing the blood to drip into the bowl. You will be asked a question, and if your answer is a lie, the blood dripping down will turn the blood in the container black for a few moments.”

“Can
you
fool it?”

“Depending on how powerful he is, it’s possible, but not without him noticing someone is interfering.”

Allison cleared her throat, and I turned to see everyone else waiting in the elevator. “Are you two quite done? Some of us have other things to do with our time.”

Why did I have the feeling all her “other things” involved being a generally unpleasant person? How many drunk people did Flavius drain before deciding Allison was a wonderful person who just had to live forever?

Our ride in the elevator and through the proceeding hallway was filled with an awkward silence so heavy it reminded me of a muggy summer day. Flavius stopped in front of room 28B and knocked on the door. When the door opened with a soft click and I saw who was on the other side, I almost burned the entire building down.

Lucas.

14

“Good evening.” Noah’s voice was slightly deeper than the neutral, genderless tenor I’d heard that night at the warehouse. Recognition gleaned in his eyes when they landed on me, but the smug, sadistic spark I expected wasn’t there. “Please, come in.”

Everyone else complied as I stood there, frozen. He’d sense magic; I could shoot him. Except I didn’t have my gun. I figured there was no point in drawing attention to myself by walking through the city with a gun on display, so I rarely brought it along. Y’know, like a total fucking moron.

Scanning the room, I felt traces of familiar magic. Like Lucas’ and…someone else’s. Mom? No. Maybe. I shook my head, failing to clear my thoughts. Seriously, why do I even try? It never works and now I’m dizzy. It couldn’t have been my mother’s magic. I only wanted it to be hers because then it’d be, well,
something
.

“Morgan?” Elise called.

“Um, y-yeah. I’m coming.”

The suite was colored in various shades of pink and orange and the window on the far side had a beautiful view of the glittering city streets that I was too nauseous to enjoy. Next to the window was a round, lacquered table that had been cleared save for a small crystal bowl. Lucas – Noah – sat down and gestured to the seat across from him.

“Have you been informed as to how this ritual works?” he asked as I slid warily into the seat across from him.

Now that the shock had, well, not at all worn off, and I was able to look at him more closely, the certainty he was Lucas faded. When I first laid eyes on the infernal sorcerer, I’d confused him for my mother. But his features had been more androgynous, sharp where hers were round, and his eyes, while physically exactly the same, bore a cold and sadistic glint.

Noah, on the other hand, looked like a mix between the two. The lines of his face were softer than Lucas’ but more masculine than my mother’s. His hair was shorter, his countenance not as cruel. I’d say he was their love child, but the very thought made me gag. Especially when you consider the fact that one of my parents had already played that card – the last thing I needed was another illegitimate half-sibling.

The warm grey eyes looking at me from across the table seemed almost tender, which was creepy, but I’d officially underlined that word in the list of adjectives that made up my life. A silence lulled over us as I stared at him, shell-shocked. Noah let it hang a moment before raising a brow. “Miss Maxwell?”

“Who are you?” I blurted out. “Why are you here?”

My chest was heaving. It was hard to breathe, as if I were underwater. Every muscle was tensed to the point of pain. The table had foggy handprints from where my hands had been, and I pulled them away, wiping them on my jeans to no avail. If anything, they seemed to get sweatier.

The lights flickered and the TV switched on to show a news anchor reporting a mass murder aboard some ship. Elise switched it off, eyeing me cautiously all the while.

“Calm yourself, Morgan. You’ll set the building ablaze.”

Before I could reply, Tomas spoke up. Fuck, I was so frazzled I couldn’t even think of a witty nickname for the douche. “Bitch is so guilty–”

“I will fucking set you on fire, you pathetic little shit,” I growled out, glaring at him with such intensity I’m surprised he didn’t turn to ash where he stood. Flavius and the others took a step back, all of them looking at me the same way Elise had. I ignored them and turned back to Noah. “Answer me.”

Noah exuded calm. He blinked languidly and each word came out in a measured, balanced tempo. “My name is Noah and–”

“Last name.”

“I abandoned that long ago.”

“Last. Name.”

“Insistence won’t render me compliant.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’m passing through on my way to Canada.”

“How do–”

“Miss Maxwell,” said Flavius, “perhaps this could wait until after we’ve cleared your name?”

I glared at Tomas, daring him to make another smartass comment. He stayed silent, though, his already normally wide eyes stretched past their limits as he tried to not-so-subtly hide behind Jones.

Noah grasped his talisman – a talisman that looked exactly like Lucas’ – before closing his eyes and holding his hand out. Reluctantly, and with the most petulant expression I was sure I’d ever had, I rolled my sleeve back and offered my arm.

“Use something you aren’t attached to,” I said. “I’ll be taking it with me when this is over. The bowl, too. There’s no way you’re keeping anything with my blood on it.”

“That’s fine. If you summon a dagger of ice, I can use that.”

I did, the chill exuding from the dagger calming me a little. The familiar, comforting feel of using my magic, of letting a bit of it out when it was trying to burst through and raze everything to the ground, had me breathing easier.