Regardless of Gregor’s protest, Johnny Newman made certain he was the last one into the back of the big Escalade. He slammed the door before the driver could do his job.
“Grays Armory?” he snarled.
“Yes. As I said, according to our reports, it is the best choice for the needs of this pack.” Plympton had left his dark glasses off and he faced Johnny squarely, giving him a good view of the silvered eye.
Since wærewolves could heal afflictions and diseases that occurred before they were infected with the wære virus, Johnny wondered why the man’s injury hadn’t healed in his monthly transformations. But then, Ig had suffered from strokes in the months before his death; while the transformation and reversion to human form initially healed him, the strokes recurred earlier and earlier each cycle. Apparently for some there were factors that didn’t hold true to the norm.
Johnny decided he didn’t want to know the nature of Plympton’s wound. “Whose reports?” He had questions about what Plympton had done back there, how he had made Johnny’s beast yelp and retreat, but those questions were not to be asked in front of an audience. “Who did the appraisal?”
“Our kind, John. I had the Zvonul send a group out when I learned of the situation. The Armory may be over 185 years old, but the structure was meant to protect those inside. Besides, the castle-like architecture is as bold and imposing as it is beautiful. Very fitting for wærewolves. The pack should be proud to have it.”
“And if the locals don’t like it?”
Plympton grinned. “Tough titties.”
Johnny shot a frown at Todd. They both knew Clevelanders. This would not go over well with the locals.
“The Zvonul made arrangements to get CCS in the first place,” Plympton added. “This is no different.”
“The hell it isn’t!” Johnny argued. “The Armory isn’t some run-down building that’s out of commission, used only for billboards, and so close to the Flats that no one cares if wærewolves are in it. The Armory is downtown! It’s a Cleveland landmark, the oldest building in the city.”
“Yes,” Plympton said. “That is another part of the reason it is perfect. It has also been the host of many historic events and important social functions. Now it will host this pack.”
“But—” Todd interjected.
“No buts!” Plympton shouted, facing Todd. “The pack will cordially allow the local veterans to continue holding festivities there, some touring exhibits. Some halls will continue to be rentable for parties, weddings, proms, et cetera. It will be a great outreach opportunity.”
Somehow, the man’s bad eye seemed to continue focusing on Johnny independently of where the other eye looked. It was unsettling, but even so Johnny said, “You don’t know Clevelanders, Jacques. This is bullshit.”
With that, he sat back and pulled out his phone, which he’d switched to silent for the meeting. There were multiple missed calls from Red, and one voicemail. Aware of the excellent hearing of his companions, he decided not to listen to the message in the limo. He knew she was upset; the meeting had interfered, but it hadn’t taken that long. He texted her: Just out of meeting. @ den in 5. On my way to you then.
By the time they arrived at the den, she had not responded. That was unusual for her, and it fed his urgency to listen to her message privately. He was the first one out of the limo, not waiting for the driver to open the door for him.
Aurelia exited on his heels. “John. Wait.”
“No time. Prior commitment.” She was not going to stall him this time. He pulled his keys from his pocket and remotely unlocked the Maserati’s doors as he neared the driver’s side.
Aurelia rushed forward and threw her body against the door. “John! We have to talk.”
He stepped in close, growling low. “Don’t you ever do that again.”
“Don’t do what?” she asked. “Something drastic to get your attention?” The sass in her tone infuriated him.
“No. Don’t ever touch my car.” He forcibly moved her away from the driver’s door.
“You need to learn how to be a king, John. The Zvonul are not going to be happy with me if I don’t teach you some etiquette, and I can’t do that if you don’t give me a chance.”
“Etiquette? Sounds like you’re trying to puss-ify the Domn Lup.”
“Hardly. You are a king. Therefore, you don’t open your own doors. Not to houses, buildings, or limos. You have someone to do that for you because you are Sovereign.”
Irritated, he turned from her and reached for his car door.
“You also need to move,” she added. “I’ve heard about this farmhouse, where you’ve been rooming in the attic. That is simply unacceptable. You need to live downtown, close to the den, in an exclusive high-rise type of place with some prestige. Now, I’ve got a couple of places in mind already—”
But Johnny didn’t hear the rest. He was already squealing tires out of the parking garage and headed into the ever-darkening night.
• • •
“I’m going in alone,” Liyliy said. “Watch for me. I will bring my sisters out.”
She let her magical senses guide her flawlessly as she reached for the rear door handle of the unmarked white van that had brought her and Giovanni to Cleveland. They had agreed that chartering a private flight would not go unreported to those at the local haven, while a vehicle could travel between states anonymously, and could arrive perfectly timed to make the best use of the night.
“Wait,” Giovanni said. “Take these.” He handed her three small objects.
Having used her ability to read a few people of this time period who were savvy with technology, she knew what these items were and how to use them, but . . .
“Why?” she asked.
“Mero and Menessos are both intelligent. While they may have imprisoned your sisters, I doubt that would be all they have done to secure them.”
Liyliy was angrily resistant at first—she’d break them out if she had to—but as seconds ticked by, she realized he was right. Her enemies were not to be underestimated.
“Even if they are not contained,” he added, “perhaps having spies within might be to our tactical advantage.”
“Spies?” Liyliy questioned.
With a sordid grin, Giovanni nodded.
“You said we cannot do this alone, and yet you ask me to make my sisters stay within that vile haven?”
“Increasing our numbers is the priority, but the opportunity to have eyes and ears in the home of our foe could be an invaluable asset. Surely you comprehend this?”
“You want me to let my sisters remain where they may be tortured or worse even if I can bring them out?”
“You have suffered greatly, Liyliy. I do not think your sisters will be treated as you have been, but I do think that while they may suffer somewhat, leaving them within this haven could make the difference that lets us win the day.”
She stared at him coldly. “They are not as strong as I am. They need me. We are stronger together.” That was, after all, her whole motive for getting them out.
“Consider it for a moment. We must all sacrifice for this war. Even your sisters.”
Without them to help her heal from this hideous disfigurement, she would be trapped as an ugly monster. I have given enough already. But Liyliy thought through the possibility of her sisters staying in the vampire’s homestead as spies while also being able to contact her with news. Giovanni was right. She could obtain information and guide them, control them, use them to their advantage.
Concentrating, she tapped into her quicksilver magic and caused a portion of her skirting to shrink and liquefy, sliding over her body until it had changed into a hidden pocket that would hold the phones. After she dropped them inside, she again reached for the door and exited the van. It quickly drove away.
Missing an eye affected her two ways: her field of vision was decreased, and judging distances was difficult. Darkness only intensified the impairment.
The evening was young. As she turned her head back and forth in a few quick sweeps to gauge her surroundings, she noted individuals and small groups milling around, some traversing the sidewalks. Seeing her, several people on the sidewalk gasped and their steps stalled until she had passed. Then they hurried on, whispering. She hobbled toward the haven, the contents of the hidden pocket bouncing against her hip, emphasizing her labored movement.
She smugly judged the doors she had smashed through when she’d left this horrid place. They were boarded up, unsightly. The destructive impact she’d had was wonderful. She would make everything ugly if she could.
Then she would not be so repulsive.
• • •
Goliath had summoned Mero to his office as soon as Menessos left. As the Excelsior’s advisor entered, he spoke a greeting and lowered himself into one of the comfortable seats across from the Haven Master’s large desk. “I assume the Erus Veneficus is on her way?”
It galled Goliath that his first direct order to his haven had been met with failure. Worse was having to admit as much to this high-ranking vampire. But it was Persephone Alcmedi that had gotten away. Goliath mentally kicked himself. I should have known better.
“The witch is not in the haven.”
Mero rose to his feet. “Where is she?”
Goliath wasn’t about to tell him they didn’t know, not yet. So he kept his expression one of poise and authority. “Please sit down, Meroveus.”
A moment passed, then the advisor sank stiffly onto the chair again. The questions he could have asked and the accusations he could have made all went unspoken, but his rigid mannerisms screamed of anger.
Goliath considered how he might stall for time, hoping that Menessos would bring the witch back. If he was able to achieve such a sham, he would avoid being seen as incapable by the Excelsior’s advisor. If caught, however, he would be doubly discredited. He haggled with himself, only to decide that—being a new Haven Master—in this instance guile would not serve him as well as directness and honesty.
“I am not certain where she is at this time, but I am prepared to ask those involved and aware of her departure today to meet us here immediately if you are interested in being present for the inquiry as to why my commands were not followed—”
The pager on the desk phone buzzed. Goliath pressed it. “Yes?”
“The missing shabbubitum just came through the front entrance,” the voice on the other end of the line said quickly.
Both Goliath and Mero were instantly on their feet. They headed for the door.
“I must create a binding for her,” Mero said. “Please do not allow her to leave.”
“I’ll do my best,” Goliath snapped.
“I was not rebuking you.” Mero stopped with his palms out toward Goliath. “Both females, I’m sure, are equally difficult to contain.”
Goliath acquiesced with a single nod. “How much time do you need?”
“This will have to be powerful . . . as much as you can give me.”
• • •
From the darkness inside the haven, a voice that Liyliy recognized as Goliath’s addressed her. “You’ve returned.”
It was a simple statement. The slimmest possible acknowledgment. It asked nothing, yet it was full of inquiry. “Was I not supposed to?” She laughed. “Did the witch tell you I was dead?”
“No.”
Which question was he answering? she wondered snidely and started forward, not bothering to disguise her limp. “I must see my sisters.”
She searched the darkness, and forced her one remaining eye to make the owlish transformation. Like this, the depth perception remained inferior, but the larger pupil could open wide and allow her to function better in the dark. They were clustered in small groups, fifteen vampires in all, scattered across the entry.
For an instant, she felt sick. She felt like crumbling, succumbing to the fear that had been eating at her ever since she glimpsed her new, hideous face. Attack. Give them cause to slaughter me and end this disgusting existence.
But that notion passed.
She wanted to see her sisters and repair this damage. She wanted to extract a gruesome revenge upon the witch. She wanted to see all that Menessos had built and cherished burnt to ash.
“I am injured.” She clung to a thread of hope that perhaps, with her sisters, the three of them together could reverse some of the damage.
Still Goliath did not answer. By his thoughtful pose it seemed he was considering her request, but the fact that he did not answer gnawed at her impatience.
“I have come back. My actions must speak for themselves. Let me see my sisters, that we might try to heal my disfigurement.” She held her breath. It was a risk coming here, but she was betting that they had not anticipated the action, and therefore had not created an alternate means of restraining her. She needed to not linger and give them time to do so. She needed to get to her sisters, heal herself, deliver the phones in secret, and get back out.
She ground her teeth slightly, then she added, “Please. I beg you. I’ve lost an eye, my arm will not completely change, my leg is twisted—”
“Very well,” Goliath said. “I will allow you to see your sisters and endeavor a healing. Then we have to discuss the terms of your remaining here. Am I clear?”
“Yes.” She did not believe he would let her remain here unbound, but she followed him to the elevator as quickly as she was able. She didn’t know if he avoided the stairs out of consideration for her condition, but she was grateful whatever his motive. Upon reaching the lower floor, she was escorted along the hall to a conference room with a large cherry table and dark brown décor. It was mostly leather and wood, with a few accents of deep hunter green.
She recognized the room. When she had clasped Giovanni’s wrists and licked away the blood from his hands, she had read him. Not a full mind scan like she did with the aid of her sisters, but a gentle search into the recent past. After she’d departed the haven in pursuit of the witch, he’d interrogated her sisters here.
Moments later, her sisters scurried in and rushed toward her. “I knew you would not forsake us!” Talto cried even as her eyes widened upon seeing her sister’s condition. But it did not stop her or Ailo. Both threw their arms about Liyliy.
Liyliy also took in their appearances with some grief. Both of them wore iron about their necks like slaves. Giovanni was right; her sisters had been bound.
Together they cooed and cried, shushed and sniffled as their reunion carried on for a long minute. They clasped hands and Ailo and Talto pushed images into her mind. They told her that in her absence Menessos had bound them to him and had the iron put round their throats. If they tried to transform, it would kill them. They were so angry, so resentful of him . . . but she had returned. She would save them, they were certain. All would be well.
In return, Liyliy showed them the pocket at her hip, the phones inside. She told them what they were for. “Heal me and take them,” she whispered.
Embracing tightly, they each drew upon the magic that allowed them to clothe themselves with quicksilver and silk. Fabric flowed around them, between them, entwining and twirling like lovers wrapped in sheets. Liyliy’s sisters began chanting and the fabric liquefied, spilling at impossible angles like gentle silver waterfalls onto Liyliy’s skin.
All the magical fabric they possessed had flooded around her, leaving them both naked. It flowed outward to create a circle of liquid that encompassed her, then it filled in, growing deeper until it was ten inches of fluid, hovering unbelievably in the air. Her arms lifted and her hair fanned out as if she were floating in an upright pool of mercury.
Her sisters’ chant became a song.
As the song continued, the liquid hardened like a gigantic mirror, sealing Liyliy in place. For a moment she seemed dead, frozen, caught in this strange magic. Then her sisters slammed their fists against the glass, pushing through, slicing their own flesh on the shards, and spilling their blood into the spell they were crafting.
The mirror cracked and shattered in slow motion, each broken piece cascading into sparkling dust, stretching into threads, and weaving into silken bandages that wound Liyliy like a mummy. When she was enveloped, her sisters stood and lowered her vertical body until it lay supine in midair. They each held one of her cloth-covered hands and clasped their free hands together. Still singing, harmonizing in a crescendo rising to angelic soprano notes, they forced the magic to permeate Liyliy. Her body began to glow under the wrapping, shining brighter and brighter until the room was filled with silvery illumination so blinding it seemed the moon had been stolen from the sky and placed in the hands of the shabbubitum.
All at once, that dazzling brilliance winked out.
The sisters’ melody dropped into something less divine, something made of deep tones and fast staccato notes. Liyliy’s body began to spin between them, the fabric unwinding and splitting in two, part sliding around Talto, part around Ailo.
When Liyliy was unwrapped, she stood.
The almost sentient material had reclothed each of them, with the phones hidden within the folds of their new silken gowns. With tears shimmering in her eyes, Talto held up her hand. The sleeve of her dress formed a hydrous mirror along her palm so Liyliy could view herself.
Her skin was no longer blistered, the globules on her chin were gone, and her face had resumed a human shape. Her eye had re-formed beneath a scarred lid. Lashes bristled this way and that in a drooping line across it.
Liyliy swallowed down bile.
Talto’s tears fell.
Lifting her arm so she could view it, Liyliy learned it was no longer mottled with feathers, and her fingers, though still twisted, were the proper length. Her leg felt regenerated. She clasped her youngest sister into her arms. “Do not cry, Talto. It is better than it was.”
“Do not leave us here,” Talto whispered.
Liyliy pulled Ailo into their hug and by touch told them she had to do just that.
You have a binding upon you. If I free you, Menessos will follow.
Talto began sobbing.
Liyliy shushed her. Do not fear, little one. Listen to me. I must leave before they put a binding upon me and doom us all.
Ailo told her Menessos was not there. I saw him leave in a hurry earlier. To my knowledge he has not returned.
Liyliy asked why he had left. Ailo told her she had not been able to find out.
Still, Mero may be working on a means to bind me this very second, so I dare not linger. I will remain in contact via the phones, which you must keep secret. I will get you out, but I need you to be my eyes and ears inside the haven for now. We must tear them apart, weaken them as they have sought to weaken us. You understand this, yes?
“Yes,” Talto whispered.
“Ailo?”
“Yes. And I have an idea.”
Liyliy and Talto let her grasp their hands. She shut her eyes, and power flowed around her. Liyliy felt the energy reaching out, striving to touch something that was both deep within and far away . . . the binding. Liyliy listened inwardly and Ailo’s silent plea echoed into her mind.
She was searching for Menessos, reaching back along the bond imposed on her, stretching. She sought him out, eager to report to Liyliy what he was doing.
Ailo found him . . . but he was not alone.
He was performing magic—a heady, dynamic magic—and it felt familiar, like an ancient memory.
Recognition burst into their minds as one.
By the gods, he’s doing it again, Liyliy thought. We must use this.