Steel Victory (Steel Empire Book 1) (10 page)

The other bouncer answered in Radek’s place. “New company policy.”

Next to Mikelos, the girl heaved an aggravated sigh. “You have got to be kidding me. Here, too?”

She was right. Fabbri’s prejudice was spreading. This was ridiculous. Mikelos hated to play this card, but— “You do know who I am, right?”

“You’re not human, and that’s all we need to know.”

“I’m sorry, Mikelos, Syri,” Radek said, “but there’s nothing I can do. You need to leave.”

“Well, shall we?” Mikelos offered his elbow to Syri.

“Wait, you’re giving in?” she said, ignoring his gesture. “Can’t you call Victory? I know what she’d have to say about this happening in her club.”

“But it’s not hers anymore, remember?” Every occupant in the club stared at the confrontation. The wolves rose to their feet in unison. This could get ugly, and he wasn’t in the mood for a fight. “C’mon.” When she started to protest again, Mikelos took her arm and walked toward the coat check.

When he passed them, one of the werewolves grabbed his shoulder. “We can’t tolerate this.”

“We can and we will, at least for tonight,” Mikelos said. “You know that jerk is going to order you guys out next.”

“Two guys.” He bared his teeth in the bouncers’ direction. “We could take them.”

“I can’t order you to leave with me, but I can tell you that starting a fight would be a really bad idea.” Mikelos pulled out of the werewolf’s grip. “Victory’s in council right now, figuring out how to put an end to this. Beating the crap out of some humans tonight would only hurt what she’s trying to do.” He said the last bit through gritted teeth.

The wolf looked at his three friends, then at the elf. She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Fine,” he said. “We’re with you, for now. Let’s go.”

With all in the silent club still staring at them, Mikelos led the wolves and elf to the coat check. The girl yawned while she handed over everyone’s possessions before returning to her book, and they left. Both bouncers followed the small group all the way to the exit, shutting them out with a resounding
bang
.

Once they rounded the corner back toward the center of town, the elven girl stopped in her tracks. “No way,” she said. “Why would they let us in just to toss us back out? I’m going back.” She turned, and two of the wolves snagged her by the arms.

“No,” Mikelos said, voice firm, “you’re not. I was serious when I said that Victory was working on this right now.”

She pulled out of the wolves’ clutches. “You’d better be right, daywalker. The elves won’t stand for this.”

“You think the wolves will, girl?” The lone female werewolf sniffed in disdain. “Tristan in on this with Victory?”

“As far as I know, they’re all working on the problem,” Mikelos said. “I’m sure the results of tonight’s council meeting will be spread. If the problem isn’t dealt with, then we can think about taking more drastic measures.”

“I should hope so.” With that, the elven girl spun on her heel and stalked down the street.

“Syri got dumped right before you got to the club,” the female wolf said to Mikelos. “She’s having a crappy night. Otherwise she wouldn’t have agreed to dance with you.”

“Oh, that’s nice to know.” The evening was getting stranger by the minute. “I guess I’ll go camp out by the council building and wait for Victory. Take care, all.”

The lead wolf clasped hands with Mikelos, and they said their goodbyes before heading away. Mikelos watched them fade into the darkness before making his own way through the deserted Limani night.

Since they met after normal business hours and the rest of the building had cleared out, the council locked the front door. Mikelos didn’t mind waiting outside in the pleasant night. He settled onto the wide stone steps leading up to the Grecian building and started his new book, but the silence grated on him. A little music wouldn’t hurt anyone in the quiet business district. He flipped the latches on his violin case and drew the instrument out with reverence.

He got bored with fingering drills after a few minutes and switched into a reel. But a reel could not be played sitting down, and soon Mikelos stood at the top of the steps. After the reel, he slowed it down and launched into a more classical piece, one of the first he had ever played in concert. Lit by the council hall’s permanent spotlights, the building behind him transformed into a full orchestra, the street became an adoring audience. In the corner of his field of vision, he could almost see the flashing bow of Connor’s cello.

“Hey, freak.”

His bow skittered across the strings with a harsh shriek. Mikelos lowered the violin to his side before facing his unwelcome visitor. The unfamiliar bouncer from the Twilight Mists came up the side steps, with an even more pronounced sneer.

“Can I help you?” Had the guy followed him here? Mikelos didn’t want a confrontation while this tired. Not on the council steps.

The bouncer took a step forward, forcing Mikelos to back away down a step. Not his first choice of action, but the guy had horrid breath tinged with alcohol. So, drinking on the job and leaving early. What were the new owners of the club letting their employees get away with these days?

“I don’t appreciate the way you talked to me back there.” The bouncer looked down his nose at Mikelos. “You need to learn some respect for your superiors.”

Mikelos stifled his laugh. “Thank you for informing me, then. I’ll keep that in mind.” He moved toward his bags but meaty hands shoved at his chest. Mikelos pinwheeled his arms for balance and backed down another few steps.

The other man followed, staying too close for comfort.

Not good. “Now that was uncalled for, sir,” Mikelos said. He couldn’t fight with his violin in hand, and taking his eyes off the man to place the violin and bow down seemed a bad idea.

“‘Sir’ is right,” the man said. “I’ll teach you some manners yet.”

Though tempted to comment on the man’s own lack of education, Mikelos didn’t go there. “Fine, lesson learned,” he said instead. “Now let’s both go home and say that you’ve made your point.”

“I don’t think so, you freak.” He stepped forward once more, his invasion of Mikelos’ personal space complete.

He couldn’t even think of more than one derogatory name? This wasn’t going to end well. “No, I don’t—”

The bouncer reached out, and instead of grabbing Mikelos, snatched the violin away. He smashed it with full force onto the edge of the steps behind him without missing a beat. The fragile antique wood shattered on contact with the concrete.

Mikelos’ heart broke. It wasn’t his first instrument, but it was his oldest. Connor had given him that violin. Mikelos dropped the bow and lunged for the other man with a wordless scream.

The man met his attack with a ready fist, bashing his knuckles into Mikelos’ jaw. Mikelos’ forward momentum carried him into the bouncer’s chest, and they both tumbled down onto the stairs.

Mikelos rolled off the man and reached his feet first, spreading his weight across two steps. He licked his lips and tasted blood. He’d done his best to avoid a physical fight with this guy, but now all bets were off. His daywalker bond with Victory meant he was stronger and faster. This man had destroyed one of the things most precious to him. He could kill the guy, if he wanted.

He wanted.

The other man also got to his feet, rubbing the back of his head where it had bounced against the edge of the stone steps. His eyes met Mikelos’ eyes, and he growled.

Oh, Mikelos wanted. But it would destroy what little ground the nonhumans of Limani had against this new crusade. Mikelos would be banished for murder.

Dammit, he would have to pull his punches.

Mikelos shot out with his own fist, catching the bouncer in the solar plexus. At full strength, he would have cracked the man’s sternum. Instead, the man yelped in pain and fell backward.

After landing on the stairs, the bouncer kicked out a leg, catching Mikelos’ knee and pulling him off balance.

Mikelos’ knee bounced off the edge of a step with a sickening crack. Now his leg wouldn’t hold him when he tried to rise, and Mikelos staggered. But the last step wasn’t where it should have been, and he crashed to the sidewalk.

He landed with all his weight on his arm and hip, his knee screaming in pain. Before he could compensate with the opposite leg, a shoe met his forehead, snapping his body back to the ground.

A kick connected with Mikelos’ chest. This time the pop came from a rib, and the next shot landed at his stomach.

He shouldn’t have pulled his first punch. He couldn’t get to his feet while the blows kept coming. Mikelos covered his head with his arms and curled around his torso, pulling his legs up to his chest.

Putting what lung strength he could past a broken rib, Mikelos let out a scream. “
Victory!
”

Mikelos braced his uninjured hand on the ground, but that was a mistake. The man’s boot heel smashed down again, followed by the sickening sound of bones in his fingers breaking. He had been through worse in three hundred years. This human, this single human, couldn’t kill him.

He hoped.

The council chamber erupted into chaos.

Councilmembers began demanding explanations or protesting, per their nature. Gloating, Fabbri sat back in her chair. Victory ignored the exclamation Lena made to her, instead meeting eyes with Max down the length of the table.

Max shrugged. “Hey!” he said, raising his voice over the others.

Next to him, Lorus quieted, but the others paid no attention. Then, Daliana snapped her fingers once. A brilliant white light flashed in the room, startling everyone into silence. She gestured toward Max, giving him control of the room once again.

“Thank you, Dal,” Max said, staring at Fabbri. “Now what the hell are you talking about, woman? My source said it was only a few troop movements.”

“I do hope you were planning on sharing this with us, Max.” Sethri’s dry voice held a hint of rebuke.

The mercenary mimed shock. “Of course!”

Victory came to his rescue. “Max consulted with me before the meeting. We already have someone checking the situation out.” Her ears picked up the strains of violin music. She relaxed knowing Mikelos was near, even if outside the building.

“Who?” Soren asked.

“My sire Asaron graciously volunteered to be Limani’s eyes,” Victory said.

Fabbri snorted. “Because he can be trusted.”

“He is also being accompanied by the warrior-mages Toria Connor and Kane Nalamas.” Max paused. “Not that you probably think that’s much better. But at least you can’t claim they’re not full Limani citizens.”

Despite her shock at Max’s addendum, Victory kept her mouth shut. It seemed he and Asaron had laid plans in addition to those they’d let her in on. But now was not the time to act like a worried mother. Right now, solidarity was key. “Both Toria and Kane are journeymen of Limani’s Mercenary Guild. They are obligated to return with a proper report.”

This time Fabbri rolled her eyes, but even she couldn’t argue. The devotion of Limani’s native-born mercs to their home was legendary. It wasn’t just because they were on the payroll as a reserve battalion—one of the first lessons new trainees learned was the history of the Wasteland and the importance of Limani’s location between the Roman and British colonies.

Victory also trusted Asaron. He had been a mercenary or soldier for most of the two millennia of his life, and while she had kept to mercenary work for private citizens rather than armies, he had forgotten more about the military than she ever knew. Including tactics and camp life, two things that would tell him exactly what the Romans were up to, depending on how large the group was, how they were provisioned, and which direction they were headed. A few small parties meant they had set out to kill Wasteland beasties plaguing a western town. A company or two could indeed be the field maneuvers Max suspected.

A large force marching straight toward Limani could mean just one thing. Victory didn’t need her own years of mercenary work to tell her it wasn’t the Emperor coming for a visit.

“My mercenaries are on a covert mission to check things out,” Max said. “All I know right now is that there is a force of soldiers. I don’t know how many or why. That’s what the mission is for. They’re not planning on contacting the Romans or even letting their presence be discovered at all. They’ll be back in no more than a handful of days. We can even have another emergency council session to hear their—”

The door at the end of the council chamber slammed open, and a city clerk rushed into the room. Victory’s heart beat once in surprise, and her hand jerked toward the sword she did not wear at her side.

“Mr. Sethri!” The clerk who stayed late for council meetings halted when he realized he had the entire room’s attention. Then he scurried to Sethri to whisper in his ear.

A scream came from outside. Her name. Victory leapt to her feet, her hands gripping the table. No time to make excuses. She dashed for the door as Sethri spoke to the rest of the room. “A man just attacked Mikelos Connor outside our doors.”

Victory burst from the council building—Tristan, Max, and Lorus right behind her—to see a strange man kicking a prone figure at the bottom of the steps. She all but flew down the steps and tackled the man to the ground. The force of her blow knocked them clear into the street. The man’s body went limp when the back of his head connected with the pavement.

Victory untangled herself and shot to her feet. Lorus and Tristan headed toward her, ready to restrain the attacker. Max knelt by Mikelos, and Victory dropped to cradle Mikelos’ head in her lap. Her daywalker was unconscious. Blood smeared his face, his left hand was a mess, and his right leg bent at an unnatural angle.

Daliana knelt next to Victory and placed her hands on Mikelos’ chest. Her gentle touch shimmered with golden light. “He’s weak, but he’ll live. Some broken ribs, but no serious internal injuries.” She gave Victory an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, physical healing isn’t my strong suit. I can feed him power, but not much more.”

“Lena’s calling the ambulance,” Max said. He laid a hand on Victory’s shoulder. “We shouldn’t move him.”

“I know.” She bit her bottom lip, tasting blood when a fang pierced skin. Wounds were nothing new to her.

Max squeezed her shoulder. “He’ll be fine.”