Night's End (9 page)

Lannan must have had a speech prepared for this eventuality. As much as I loathed the vampire, I had to admit he was smart, especially for someone who hadn't wanted the responsibility of being Regent. But the Crimson Queen had decreed him in charge, and he would obey because, as loathsome as he could be, Lannan was loyal to the throne, and to his sister Regina—the Emissary for the Queen. He was also Regina's lover, but that was beside the point.

“I repeat, the Regent requires that you stay indoors. Defend yourselves should you need to, but be aware: These creatures cannot be reasoned with; they are cunning, intelligent, and out for blood. Do not approach them. Do not attempt to bargain with them—they are ruthless killing machines. Hide yourselves, and tonight, the patrols will be out in full force to counter their attacks. During the meantime, the city council is appealing to the Courts of Winter and Summer to send aid, and to the Consortium.”

Rhiannon was standing to one side, and when the newscast ended, she crossed the room, arms out. Without thought for decorum, I gave her a tight hug, and the warmth of her skin almost burned me. I stood back, gazing at her.

“You feel like you've got a fever.” Cocking my head, I searched her eyes. She looked worried, but beneath the worry, I could sense happiness, and also exhaustion.

She returned my gaze. “And you feel like you're chilled to the bone. You look as tired as I feel.”

“We've both got a lot to learn and not much leeway as far as time.” I paused, feeling oddly unsure what to say next. We hadn't seen each other for a couple of weeks, and a subtle distance had grown between us.

“We should respond to their request.” Rhiannon looked as uncomfortable as I did. Her hair was flame red, and she practically crackled as she moved. While I could control the winds, she had power over flame, and the sparks arced off her body, a flickering of pale orange that haloed around her.

I glanced at Luna and the others. “Can you give us a few minutes? I need to talk to Rhiannon and Chatter about something.”

There was a flash in Luna's eyes that told me I'd hurt her feelings, but she motioned to the others and led them out of the parlor, followed by Rhiannon's guards. Check and Fearless stayed behind with us. I closed the door and locked it.

“What's going on?” Rhia sounded more like herself, and as I turned, her gaze flickered toward the door. “Something's up, Cicely. I didn't want to give away anything in front of the others, but I can feel it. My advisor, Edge, told me that Strict contacted our shamans. They put her and my private guards to the test this morning. They also searched Chatter's mind. Just
what
were they looking for?” A hint of anger colored her voice. I didn't blame her.

“Thank gods. We are at least a leg up, then. The guards you brought with you? They all passed the loyal test?”

“Yes, and I don't mind telling you, it wasn't any fun watching the process. Now tell us, what's going on?” Sitting on the sofa, she patted the cushion beside her, and Chatter joined her.

Grieve and I sat opposite, on the loveseat. I glanced at the closed door, then lowered my voice. “There is a spy in my Court working for Myst. We don't know who it is, yet. But we also encountered Shadow Hunters in my realm, and we know Myst is on the move again. For all we know, there may be spies within your Court as well.”

Rhiannon was silent for a moment. Then, “Dear gods . . . she's back, already?”

“We knew she wouldn't take long. She just managed to regroup faster than we feared.” I gave a little shrug. “So we have to find this spy, and any more that might be hiding in the shadows. I think we should go on the offensive.” Pausing, I looked into my cousin's eyes. She was nodding. “Also, on the way here? I met my grandfather.”

“What?” She leaned forward. “Would that be . . . my grandfather, too?”

I realized she thought I was talking about our maternal grandfather, whom neither one of us had ever known. “Oh, no, sweet. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get your hopes up. I met Wrath's father. His name is Hunter, and he's one of the elders in the Uwilahsidhe. He's going to scout for the Shadow Hunters' hideout while we try to clear the rest of our guards through the loyalty ritual.” Once more, I glanced back at the door.

Ulean, can you check the other side and make certain nobody is listening at the door?

A moment later, she swept around me, a faint gust lightly ruffling my hair.
No one there, Cicely. They wait in the kitchen, and they worry.

Thank you. I hate that I have to keep them out of the loop, but it's imperative until we know what we're dealing with.

“That's not all. My shamans told me that we must verify that Luna, Peyton, Ysandra, and Kaylin are loyal.” Before she could say anything I held up my hand. “No, I know—how can we question them? But remember what happened with Anadey. And . . . Leo.”

Rhiannon hung her head. “Yeah. I'd rather forget Leo, but I get your point. You're right, of course. But how do we do that?”

“I think Kaylin can do it—especially since his demon is so much stronger now. He can enter their minds and sort through their thoughts.” Even as the words came out of my mouth, I cringed. I knew how it sounded. Hell, I knew how the others would take it.

But to my surprise, Rhiannon nodded. “I agree. But how do we verify Kaylin's loyalty? We can't just take his word for it.”

“Therein lies our dilemma. The shamans can't test him—he isn't Fae. He isn't even half-Fae.” And then I stopped. Maybe . . . there might be one person we could turn to. A seer. An oracle, actually. But he wasn't human, and hadn't been for thousands of years. And whether he'd help us . . . that was a sticking point.

“You are thinking something. I know it. What are you thinking?” Rhia leaned forward and took my hands. “Tell us.”

I looked from her to Grieve to Chatter, wincing. “I don't want to suggest this.
Please
know that this is the
last
thing I'd suggest if I could think of any other way.”

“The Consortium?” Rhiannon frowned. “I'm not so sure about them.”

“No. We can't trust them any farther than we can throw them.”

“Then who?” Grieve sounded suspicious, and I realized that my wolf was transmitting my nervousness to him. No matter what, I couldn't lie to him—I couldn't hide things from him. We were linked in too many ways.

“I'm thinking . . . we take him to Crawl.”

A beat passed, then another—and then they all burst out in loud shouts, just as I thought would happen. I said nothing. Let them tear the suggestion to shreds, and then I'd explain myself.

“Cicely, are you crazy?”

“You can't be serious!”

“After what Crawl did to you, you seriously are suggesting turning Kaylin over to him?”

After a moment, they fell silent, staring at me. I stared back, unwavering.

“Got that out of your system? Okay, seriously, do we have a fucking choice? The facts are simple: We're facing the end of our world if Myst wins. Suppose she manages to find our heartstones? Then, not only do you and I die, Rhia, but so do our people. We have thousands of lives resting in our hands now. Do you want to risk it all?”

“I guess . . . you're right about that.”

“You bet I'm right. We aren't playing penny ante poker anymore. We're in the big leagues, playing for high stakes. We can't afford to be squeamish. We can't afford mercy.” I winced. “The truth is, we can't afford to spare our friends a little pain.” I fell silent, leaning forward as I pressed my hands against my knees. My jeans felt rough under my palms.

“But he tried to kill you.” Grieve's voice went cold, and his lips were curled back, baring his teeth. He looked ready to shift into his wolf form at any minute.

“Of course he tried to kill me. Crawl's a fucking freakshow. But he's
also
an oracle, and he also hates the Indigo Court. Crawl can't lie. Or at least, I don't think he can. We don't even know if he'll do it. But if we take Kaylin to him, chances are good he'll be able to tell us if we can trust him. Crawl can see into the future, to some degree. And into people. He looked into me when the vampires first took me before him.”

“I still don't like it, but you may be right.” Chatter surprised me, being the first to take my side.

“After we verify Kaylin is still on our side, then he can probe Luna's, Peyton's, and Ysandra's minds.” I began to feel the breeze pick up around me as the winds responded to my mood.

“Why not take all of them to him, then? Why just Kaylin?” Rhiannon sounded genuinely confused.

I sighed. “Kaylin's the strongest. He can withstand having that freakazoid in his mind. I don't think the others could. Crawl . . . You don't know what he's like. I do. He's like an insect that won't stop. Ruthless and alien. But Kaylin . . . Well, ever since his demon woke up, he's changed. He can meet Crawl's inspection and pass through.”

So much had gone on. We were all changing; we were all shifting. The world would never be the same again, and we'd all have to man up.

Rhia let out a soft sigh. “I can't argue with your logic.”

“Do you really think I'd hand Kaylin over to the Blood Oracle if I didn't think he could make it through?” I stared at my hands. But then I shook my head. “You don't have to answer me. I am honest enough to admit that I might do it, if I thought it were the only way to save the day.”

“Oh, Cicely—we know you wouldn't do that.” Chatter tried to cheer me up, but I shook away his support.

“Yes, I would. And don't tell me you wouldn't—any one of you. Too much rests on our shoulders. We don't have the leeway to be merciful anymore, not if it means we endanger everyone around us.”

“You're right.” Rhiannon stood. “I stand by you. Chatter, you are my consort. You will abide by our wishes?”

Chatter merely nodded.

Grieve looked torn, but then he shrugged, giving in. “Okay, then. How do we work this? If there's a chance that Kaylin is a spy, we can't forewarn him. Or the others.”

I frowned, thinking. Grieve was right. We couldn't take any chances, especially after the speech I'd just given. I crossed to the window and stared out into the snowy afternoon. It was nearing dusk.

“We talk to them as if everything's normal. When they ask what's up, we tell them . . . We'll tell them that we needed a break. That the adjustments to life in the Barrows is daunting, and we are taking a few days out, to regroup. I'll call Regina and have her summon us to talk to them. At dusk, we'll all go over to Lannan's estate. I'll talk to him and Regina in private, and if they agree, we can take Kaylin to the Blood Oracle right then, before he'd have a chance to get away. And then, while still there, he can check the others. We'll need to get Ysandra over here on some pretext though.”

“That shouldn't be hard; she wanted to talk to Luna about some sort of magic they're cooking up.” Rhiannon grimaced. “I dread the aftermath of this, though. I know it's necessary, but the fallout is going to be problematic, at best.”

“I know, Rhia. I know. I've prepared myself to lose friends. I hate the thought, but there's nothing else we can do.”

“Your Majesty, if you don't mind me interjecting a thought: Kaylin is still weak from the attack a month ago, but he should be able to handle himself.” Check had been listening in, but now he moved forward.

“Do you think he's well enough to handle the Blood Oracle?”

“Is anybody ever well enough to handle him, Your Highness?”

As Check posed the question to me, I closed my eyes and once again found myself in the grips of the Blood Oracle as he sought to drain me dry, to feast on my blood.

He was like an insect—long and lean and gangly, with limbs like hollow husks, except they were strong. Oh, so strong, and oh, so dangerous.

Crawl scuttled, shifted without seeming to move. He was a vampire—a dangerously old and mad vampire. He had been sired by the Crimson Queen herself, and he lived in a prison because he had long ago forgotten how to listen to orders, how to keep from being a one-man scourge on those who still walked with blood pumping through their hearts.

Crawl, the Blood Oracle, the seer of the vampires, the father of vision who foretold the future and who remembered the past.
He was mad as a hatter, mad as a hare. Lost in a world of his own, he spoke in riddles, doling out dribs and drabs of information in return for the sacrifice of life, the sweet force of the veins.

Locked in his prison, a world between the worlds, he waited for an opportunity to free himself. He'd been loosed on the town not that long ago by the renegade vampires Geoffrey and Leo, and he'd fed and fed, drinking deep and casting aside the bodies. But Crawl hungered for more; there was always the thirst, the burning need to feed, and so he had driven his way through the people of New Forest, as ruthless as a spider spinning her web for flies.

People were chattel—food and nourishment. Our lives, our hopes and dreams, our desires were moot in the face of the Blood Oracle. He fed off pain, licked it up like a delicious syrup on top of ice cream or cake. He reveled in it, without care, without worry, without any shred of guilt.

It had been so long since Crawl had been human—yummanii—that he'd lost any semblance to the people on whom he now fed. He was beyond the scope of most of the vampires, and even the Emissary and her brother feared him. Crawl could just as easily stake their hearts, cast them aside, and move on, as he could feast off their slaves.

And the Blood Oracle had, three times, had me in his grasp. He'd fed off of me—the last time nearly killing me. Lannan had stepped in, brought me back at a cost that I could never forget. As much as he disgusted me, the hedonistic golden boy had been responsible for saving me, and I owed him a great debt.