Shadowflame (30 page)

“I understand you had a row with Hart,” Janousek said as they walked. “Congratulations.”

“What did you hear?”

He shrugged. “Just that you rescued one of his harem girls, he slaughtered three more in your Haven, your Queen threw him into a wall, and he slunk home with his tail between his legs. He’s bitching to anyone who will listen, which isn’t anyone really, so I would imagine he’s got a good case of festering anger up there in New York—if I were you, I wouldn’t let him out of my sight.”

“I don’t intend to. I would like to know who’s been killing his Elite, though, if for no other reason than to send them a thank-you card.”

“I heard it was the Red Shadow.”

“Not unless they’ve changed their tactics pretty radically in the last few months. I am afraid they’re behind what’s going on here, though. I don’t suppose you know any more about them than the rest of us do?”

Jacob gave him a sidelong look, pausing, before he said, “There is one thing. I doubt it will be of much help to you.”

“I’m desperate, Jacob. Give me whatever you have.”

He nodded. “I was Prime Horak’s Second, as you know. I’m almost a hundred percent certain that back in the 1920s he was acquainted with the Alpha.”

“How?”

“Horak never came out and said anything, but Elite are paid to be observant, after all. One night a messenger brought a note to Horak, and the next night one of Horak’s human enemies turned up missing except for his left hand. All Horak would tell me was that a friend owed him a ‘recruiting bonus.’ ”

“Recruiting bonus . . . so Horak found someone for the Alpha to hire as an agent, and the Alpha had someone killed for Horak as a reward,” David surmised. “Do you remember anything about the note?”

“Horak threw it into the fireplace, but I was mad with curiosity, so I fished out what was left.”

David stared at him. “What did it say?”

Janousek smiled and reached into his coat pocket. “You’ll have to figure that out for yourself,” he said, and handed David a small plastic bag. “I have no idea why I kept it all this time—Prime’s instinct, I suppose. That and I admit I’m a bit of a pack rat. I had forgotten all about it until you asked for my help when we spoke last week. I had it stashed away in the archives with everything else from Horak’s tenure. It took me hours to find it.”

David took the scorched scrap of yellowed paper, so old it was crumbling. “My God.”

He turned it over, trying to discern what was written on it. On one side all he could see was a number, 4.19, and the faded remains of a single word; on the other, it looked like there had been some kind of symbol.

“It’s probably meaningless. But you’re the mad scientist of the Council, so if anyone can make something of it, you can.”

“Jacob, I could kiss you,” David said.

A grin. “I appreciate the gesture, Lord Prime, but you’re really not my type.”

“This may be the first solid link we’ve had to the Alpha, or to the Shadow at all. I’ll have it analyzed immediately. Thank you, Jacob.”

“I hope it helps.”

They had reached the main building, and the guards opened the doors for them.

“Now then,” Janousek said, “I was wondering, Lord Prime—does your Haven have a chapel?”

David was too distracted by the paper in his hand to be surprised by the question. “Yes—it’s in the South Wing. I can take you there now if you like.”

“I would appreciate that.”

David led the way down the hall. “I doubt ours is as nice as yours,” he told Janousek.

“Nice is relative,” Jacob replied. “But it’s not stained glass and stone that matter, it’s what’s inside—what you can’t see—that counts.”

“This way.” David showed him down a long corridor in the South Wing to a pair of double doors with a stained-glass inset flickering with candlelight.

David knew that some of the Elite used the chapel for weekly services; he’d been in the room only once or twice, but he remembered it being a fairly simple space with a peaceful atmosphere, pretty but not pretentious. It had been built without any specific iconography, like a military chapel, so that practitioners of multiple faiths could use it. The far end of the room was oriented east, so even the four or five Muslim Elite he employed found it useful.

He didn’t expect anyone to be inside now, but an Elite stood at the door; he recognized her as Elite 29, who had been assigned as Cora’s main bodyguard because she was fluent in Italian. Cora had no idea how closely she was being watched; David had instructed the guards to keep their distance and let her come and go mostly as she pleased, but he had learned the hard way when Miranda had first come to the Haven that even with a com on her wrist, she could be vulnerable.

“Sire,” the Elite said with a bow. “I hope this isn’t a problem—there were no scheduled services and Miss Cora likes to come here.”

“No problem at all,” David told her. “Prime Janousek wanted to pay a visit.”

He turned to the Prime. “The woman we offered asylum from Hart, Cora, is in there now; she’s a bit shy of strangers, especially men.”

Janousek nodded, understanding. “I’ll wait out here, then, until she’s done. I would hate to frighten her in the middle of her prayers.”

“If you don’t mind, then, I’ll take my leave for the morning—I need to meet Faith and get this to my lab.”

“I don’t mind at all. I plan to spend an hour with God and then retire for the day. We’ll speak again at sunset, of course.”

“Thank you, Jacob.”

David started to walk away, but the chapel door opened and Cora emerged.

She saw them and made a faint yelping sound, moving to duck back into the chapel.

“It’s all right, Cora,” David said quickly in Italian. “I was just leaving, and our guest wanted to use the chapel when you were finished. There’s no hurry.”

Cora swallowed hard and nodded. He noticed she looked a hundred times better than when she’d come to the Haven; he’d barely looked at her when he had raced into the yoga studio to answer the call of Miranda’s distress, but she did look healthier, and even as frightened as she obviously was, she made eye contact with him.

Or at least, she did for a second. Her attention was pulled from him to Prime Janousek, who David realized was staring at her, wide-eyed.

She stared right back.

Suddenly David remembered where he had seen that thunderstruck expression before.

Sure enough, as Janousek opened his mouth to attempt to speak, the amber stone of his Signet flared once, twice . . . and began to flash.

Cora didn’t understand why this man was looking at her as if she were some kind of ghost, but she knew one thing: As soon as she saw him, she was irresistibly drawn to him . . . and the only thing she could think to do was run.

The two men didn’t chase her, not that it mattered; this was the Prime’s house, and she had no right to run away, even if there was anyplace she could go that he couldn’t follow. But still, she ran, as hard and fast as she could, until she had gained the safety of her room, flung herself backward against the door, and burst into tears.

Her mind and heart were spinning so fast she could barely breathe. The man’s kind eyes were burned into her skull, inviting . . . something . . . some part of her that she hadn’t even known existed rising up and reaching out . . .

She panicked, her breath coming in hoarse gasps, her only identifiable desire to hide. She ended up curled in a ball on the far side of the bed, wishing she could shrink into nothing.

What was happening? Who was he? What did he want with her? And why did she want to . . . what did she want?

She had been praying, feeling peaceful and at rest, almost . . . dared she say it . . . happy. Her guard had shown her the chapel a few days ago, and she had loved its simplicity: stone walls, a few stained-glass panels with electric lights behind them that cast a soft glow over the movable pews. The panels were images of the countryside where the Haven stood, night time images in blue and purple. A cabinet on one wall contained the trappings of several religions, and her guard had shown her where to find a painted resin statue of the Virgin to place on the altar, along with a cloth and some candles. The only rule was that she had to put things away when she was done.

Now her peace was shattered, and she prayed again, mumbling into her crossed arms, asking God to help her . . . whatever this was . . .
please, make it go away. Make him go away.

God didn’t seem to be listening, however. There was a soft knock at the door.

She couldn’t speak, not even when a voice called, “Cora?”

She buried her head in her arms, hoping he would leave, but a moment later she heard the door open and footsteps approaching her.

“Cora,” he said gently in her language, “you don’t have to be afraid.”

She lifted her head. “Who are you?”

He had settled cross-legged a few feet away from her, leaving plenty of room but close enough that he didn’t have to raise his voice to be heard. “My name is Jacob,” he said. “I am the Prime of Eastern Europe.”

She stared at the Signet around his neck. It was still flashing, but not as brightly, now that it had their attention. “I don’t understand what this means.”

He nodded. “I had a feeling you didn’t.”

They looked at each other in silence for a moment, and she was struck by the overwhelming feeling that she knew him, though she had never seen him before tonight. Her fear, as habitual a response as it was, was fighting with a strange, new curiosity, wondering how she recognized the way his nose crinkled when he smiled.

“Do you know what Signets are for?” he asked her. She knew a little, but she couldn’t make herself speak, and she shook her head mutely. “They are a badge of office to show the world who the strongest vampires are, but they choose their bearers themselves. It’s magic as old as the world—there are even some vague references from biblical times. When a Signet finds its Prime, it flashes and continues to glow . . . and then when that Prime finds his Queen, it flashes again.”

She hadn’t thought it possible to be any more stunned than she already was, but now the shock was so complete she could barely breathe. Her vision swam, and she felt herself sagging sideways.

The Prime reached out for her and caught her with a light touch, reaching up with one hand to grab a pillow from the bed and ease it under her head while he lowered her the rest of the way to the floor and sat down beside her. It didn’t occur to her for several seconds that she should have shrunk away from him; but as soon as she was lying down, he retreated again, still keeping his distance.

Tears spilled from her eyes, and she asked tremulously, “Does this mean I have to . . . lie with you?”

He looked positively aghast at the notion. “No,” he said. “Absolutely not. I would never force you to do anything you didn’t want to do, Cora. Someday, I hope, but not until you desire me in return. Especially not after everything you’ve been through.”

“But I have to go with you,” she said.

He sighed, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his chin on them. “I don’t fully understand what intelligence guides these things, but I do know it’s never been wrong.”

Cora thought of Miranda. “I don’t think I can be a Queen,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I’m not that strong.”

“You don’t have to be like Queen Miranda. Not every Queen has an active role in government. And you are strong, Cora . . . I can feel it. You don’t even realize how strong you are. You have the potential to be very powerful, and that’s what seems to matter to the Signets—not where you begin, but who you can become.”

He reached into the pocket of his coat and took out a small velvet drawstring bag. She watched, entranced, as he opened it and withdrew another amulet like his, this one slightly smaller . . . and its stone was flashing, too.

“I’ve been carrying this with me for eighty-seven years,” Jacob said quietly. “And every night without fail I’ve prayed to God that I would find the Queen I was destined for. I was starting to lose hope . . . I’ve been alone so long . . . but I think we can add this to the list of ‘mysterious ways.’ ”

He held the Signet out to her. “Take it,” he said. “It’s yours. If you want time to think, I’ll leave you alone until my state visit is over in two days.”

She knew that giving her time was pointless. The Signet had spoken; all illusion of choice in the matter was just that. But still . . . he had offered her time, as if it were really something she had to decide, and she couldn’t help but be touched at such a sign of respect. And she believed him when he said he wouldn’t force her into his bed, or into anything . . . she believed him.

“I . . . I don’t know if I can love you,” she whispered.

“That’s all right, Cora. We have time. We can get to know each other at whatever pace you need. Whatever you want, if I can find a way to give it to you, I promise you I will . . . but you don’t owe me anything. All I ask is that you give me a chance.”

Tentatively, she smiled through her tears and lifted her hand, letting her trembling fingers close around the Signet he held out to her.

Electricity crackled through her. She could feel warmth spreading up through her hand, along her arm and shoulder, into her entire body—suddenly it was as if something new had taken up residence in her skin, and she could feel the low murmur of a presence in her mind.

Oh . . . oh my.

She found she didn’t want to withdraw her hand, and once again they stared at each other . . . but this time they were both smiling.

Fifteen

“And just like that, she’s a Queen? Just like you?”

“No, not just like me. Cora’s going to need time to heal and figure herself out before she decides what kind of Queen she wants to be. She might be the type who stays out of the spotlight and just stands by her man.”

“Yuck,” Kat said.

Miranda shrugged. “I guess it’s meant to be. Cora’s okay with it, which is what matters. I wouldn’t have let her leave if I thought he was going to treat her badly. But if I were going to pick a man for Cora, I think Janousek is exactly the type I’d choose—he’s gentle, quiet, and clearly smitten. It’s the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“It still gets me that you guys just accept the idea that those things know what they’re talking about. I think I’d trust a Magic 8 Ball first.”

Miranda wanted to say that there was no way Kat could understand—she had no frame of reference whatsoever for how it felt to be bound the way Pairs were. But she knew that there were things going on in Kat’s life that Miranda couldn’t understand, either, and there was no way to really convey any of it to each other. There seemed to be a slowly growing list of things that would always hold them apart now . . . and they were still essentially the same age. How much worse would it be when Kat was forty and Miranda still twenty-seven?

She forced herself to put the thought out of her mind as the waitress brought their drinks: hibiscus mint tea for Kat, a Shiner for Miranda. Right now, at least, things were fine . . . sort of. Kat was still under guard, there was still a killer on the loose . . . but she wanted to enjoy the simplicity of just hanging out with someone . . . while she could.

She tried to focus on Kat, to memorize all the things she loved about her best friend: her fuzzy head, her nose ring, the way she gestured when she was excited, the way her eyes lit up when she was talking about her job and the satisfaction it brought her to help people . . . how brave she was, not just for keeping the baby, but for staying friends with Miranda even after nearly dying because of her.

“Earth to Mira,” Kat said. “You’re zoning out again. And staring at me.”

“Sorry,” Miranda replied. “I’m . . .” She trailed off, not sure what to say, but as usual, Kat knew what was on her mind.

“You’re feeling overwhelmed?”

“Yeah.”

Kat smiled tiredly. “I can relate.” She stirred a packet of raw sugar into her iced tea, looking thoughtful, then asked, “Have you found out anything new about that Finnish bitch?”

Miranda spun the cap from her bottle around on the table with her finger. “Maybe. David’s going to the lab tonight—Novotny did some scans for him and wanted him to come see the results. David seems to think it’ll be great news, but I’m not sure how.”

“Maybe you should try using bait,” Kat mused. “You could put me out somewhere and try to get her to come out—”

“Are you crazy?” Miranda interrupted. “No way.”

“Come on, Miranda, I’m tired of waiting around to be stabbed,” Kat said angrily. “I can’t keep living like this.”

“I’m not putting you at risk, Kat. If anything happened to you . . . no. Absolutely not.”

Wisely, or perhaps because she was too tired to argue, Kat let the matter drop. Meanwhile their order arrived, and Kat dug into her black bean nachos. Miranda had ordered a brownie à la mode, and she picked at it, not really tasting it.

They didn’t talk much while they ate—Kat was clearly starving and barely paused to take a breath until her entire platter of nachos was gone, and Miranda had a thousand things on her mind—but they’d known each other long enough that the occasional silence wasn’t a huge deal.

Miranda’s mind wandered as she scooped up tiny spoonfuls of ice cream. Janousek and Cora had left at sunset; Cora was still bewildered by the whole thing but was going along easily enough with the sudden change in her status. She also didn’t seem afraid of Jacob, who was solicitous of her well-being but gave her plenty of space. Miranda could sense that he was eager to get Cora to Prague and show her her new home. The Eastern Haven was smaller than the Southern United States Haven, and Jacob had fewer constituents, so they would have a comparatively quiet life, at least until their own Magnificent Bastard Parade got underway. Cora wasn’t exactly eager to fly across the ocean with a man she barely knew, but she wasn’t afraid. Considering the life she had escaped from, that was a very good sign.

Miranda could sense something in Cora that had been hidden before by her weakness and fear. She wasn’t sure what to call it besides
potential
, but Miranda’s worry that Cora would never recover from what had happened faded somewhat once she had felt it. Cora had said herself, when Miranda spoke to her briefly before they left, that she was ready to look for a place for herself, and she had always known that place was not Austin. In Austin she could have a good, safe home, but not the life that she knew she was meant for. God, she had said, had led her to Miranda, and now to Jacob, and she was determined to follow.

At the very least, David would be able to count Janousek as an ally pretty much for the rest of his tenure. Janousek had given him what might turn out to be vital evidence, and David had, more or less, introduced Janousek to his Queen. Jacob had been all smiles when they departed, with David and Miranda’s assurances that the South would be one of the first territories to pay a state visit as soon as Jacob declared the Haven open for the parade to begin.

“Are you going to finish that?” Kat asked.

Miranda looked down at her swiftly melting mound of ice cream and brownie. “I don’t think so. Go ahead.” She slid the bowl over to Kat, who grinned and picked up the spoon.

“So, I know this is a weird question, but, do you still pee?”

Miranda snorted, almost inhaling her beer, which caused Kat to laugh, too. “Yes,” Miranda answered. “Much more if I drink other things besides the usual.”

“Same deal if you eat real food?”

Miranda nodded. “Our digestive systems aren’t really built for solids, but in small quantities it’s okay. Stuff like ice cream that melts into a liquid is a lot easier.”

“So no more breakfast tacos,” Kat said, sounding a little sad. “That would suck.”

“Not really. I don’t want food anymore, for the most part. A lot of us have a sweet tooth, but I don’t remember the biological reason for it—something to do with our body chemistry and glucose. Other things, though, I just don’t really miss. The main reason any of us eat regular food is to pass as human.”

Kat paused with the spoon partway to her mouth and said, “You know . . . I know that a lot of people would envy you for the whole immortality thing, but I don’t think I do. I’m not sure I would want to outlive . . . everything.”

“I haven’t had much time to think about it, to be honest. Faith said that the reality of it doesn’t really hit home until you’ve outlived a typical human life span.”

“Speaking of life spans, doesn’t it bother you that he’s got three-hundred-something years on you and you don’t know all that much about him—who he loved, where he lived, how he spent all of those years?”

“Sometimes. But really, do you know that much about Drew? You’ve only been together about as long as David and I have. You probably don’t know every detail of his past yet—imagine if he had ten times more stories to tell.”

Kat thought about it, then nodded. “Fair point.”

It was rare for Kat to show any interest in the details of life as a vampire. Miranda didn’t volunteer anything she didn’t ask about; she knew that Kat was trying hard not to think of Miranda as some kind of monster who drank blood, and Miranda was grateful for that. As much as she’d objected to David’s neglecting to tell Kat everything that was going on, the Queen was finally starting to agree that Kat already had enough to deal with, and there were some things she just didn’t need to know.

A lot of things.

A few bites later Kat set down the spoon, suddenly looking a little green around the gills. “Ugh.”

“You okay?” Miranda asked. “Do you need something fizzy?”

“No, I just . . . excuse me.”

Kat darted away from the table, headed for the restrooms, and Miranda kept an eye on her until she’d rounded the corner, then nodded to Lali, who was stationed at a booth nearby, to watch the door and make sure no one approached Kat while she was down the hall alone. Miranda caught the waitress’s eye and asked for the check; she had a feeling that Kat wouldn’t be up for much else after dinner.

Sure enough, when Kat returned she looked pasty and nauseated. “Sorry,” Kat said. “I don’t know where that came from. I’ve been doing a lot better this week, but apparently the baby doesn’t like nachos.”

“Would you like me to take you home?” Miranda asked.

Kat looked torn. They’d both been excited about the new local band they were going to see, but clearly Kat wasn’t feeling up to standing for two hours in a crowded bar surrounded by drunk people.

“It’s okay,” Miranda told her. “Really, Kat—Nice Marmot will have another gig. Maybe we can find somewhere to see them that has actual chairs.”

Finally, Kat nodded. Her eyes were bright with tears. “If you’re sure you don’t mind . . . I think I need to lie down.”

“Come on, then, Harlan will get us there.”

Miranda kept a steadying hand on Kat’s shoulder as they left the café; Lali, who had been able to hear their conversation, was already out front, and the car pulled around as soon as they’d gotten to the curb.

“I don’t think I’d like the vamp thing, but the service sure rocks,” Kat said.

Miranda grinned and waited until Kat was in the car to go around and get in herself. “Rank hath its privileges.”

Sitting beside Kat as the car eased out onto South Lamar, Miranda watched her friend lean back with her eyes closed, her hands resting protectively on her belly, something Kat had taken to doing in the last couple of weeks that Miranda doubted she was even aware of. “Let me know if we need to pull over.”

Kat opened one eye. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to puke in your Lincoln.”

“I’m worried about you, not the car.”

She shook her head. “I think I’m okay, I just . . . I have this sick feeling, like I’m scared to death of something, but I don’t know why.”

Miranda frowned. “It’s coming from your belly?”

“Yeah. It’s like somebody spooked the little critter.”

Before Kat even had the sentence out, dread seized Miranda’s heart. She said into her com, “Elite One Nineteen.”

“Yes, my Lady?”

“I’d like a security status update from your position.”

“Everything’s quiet, my Lady. No one’s gone near the house since you left.”

“Thank you. Star-two, out.”

Kat was looking at her, eyes narrowed with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Do me a favor and call Drew, would you?”

“Why?”

Miranda couldn’t explain it, except that if Kat’s baby was giving her bad vibes, something was giving Miranda a full-blown anxiety attack that she was hiding by sheer force of will. Her heart had begun to pound, and she felt adrenaline beginning to surge through her veins.
Shit. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong.

“Please, Kat, just call him.”

Kat shrugged and took out her phone. “It’s ringing.”

“Where’s he at tonight?”

“The school,” Kat said, still listening to the phone ring. “Weird . . . he always picks up by the third ring.”

Miranda called to Harlan, “Take us to 228 East Chicon, as fast as you can.” Then she said into her com, “All available patrol teams to 228 East Chicon.”

“Miranda, what the hell is going on?” Kat demanded. “So he didn’t answer, so what? He might not have his phone on him.”

“Okay, Kat,” Miranda told her, keeping her voice very calm despite the alarms going off in her head and her heart, “I’m going to go first and make sure everything’s okay. You stay in the car until I come get you.”

“Um . . . okay . . . but—”

Miranda didn’t wait for her to ask. “Harlan, pull over.” As the car rolled to a stop, the Queen shut her eyes and concentrated, forming the image of the school where Drew worked as firmly in her mind as she could. She’d never done this on her own before, but there was no time to lose . . . she knew it was in her power, if she could just . . .

She pulled hard on the image, doing as David had shown her and relaxing her hold on her body in a certain way that made everything feel blurry and strange.

She heard Kat gasp . . .

. . . and next thing she knew she was tumbling onto the sidewalk outside the school, forcing herself not to be sick as she scrambled to her feet and drew her sword.

David and Faith both sat in front of the screen while Novotny pulled up the scanned images of the scrap of paper Janousek had left.

“I apologize for the delay in getting this finished,” the doctor said. “We had a hell of a time with it. The paper’s so damaged by age and improper preservation it’s a miracle there was any ink left at all.”

David nodded. “I understand. I wasn’t even sure you’d be able to do it.”

Novotny chuckled. “Of course we could. It just required some creativity on our part. But that’s why you pay us so well, Sire.”

“True.”

“Now, then.” He tapped his touch pad and the image of the paper appeared, exactly as it had been when David brought it in, but laid over a grid of red light. “Here you see both sides in their original state. Upon first glance there are three things visible: the number 4.19, part of a word, and on the other side, a symbol of some kind. We broke the image down into individual pixels, as you see here, and then had the computer match areas of equal pigmentation, rendering each in its own shade.”

The first side of the paper, with the number on it, was magnified as Novotny spoke, demonstrating what he was talking about. “We concentrated on the darkest areas and ran them through several filters to sharpen the image.”

Rows of pixels changed color, moving from the top of the image to the bottom, and the writing became clearer. It was handwritten, and the number 4.19 was much clearer; beneath it, David could just barely make out a word. “Scarlet,” he said.