Steel Victory (Steel Empire Book 1) (15 page)

Victory started forward to help Toria when the phone rang. Her daughter waved her off, and with reluctance Victory darted past her for the cordless phone in the family room. Switching it on, she stuck it between her cheek and shoulder, freeing her hands to once again help Toria collapse on the couch. “Hello?”

“Toria! I just got your message. What’s going on?” Max’s concerned voice poured out of the phone, his volume piercing.

Victory pulled the phone a few inches away from her ear, but not fast enough. “I don’t sound that much like my daughter, do I?”

“Sorry,” Max said. “But have you seen her? She left a panicked message on my private line a few hours ago.”

“I just got home, and she’s here. Had quite an adventure, too.” Victory tried to hand the phone over to her daughter, but Toria grabbed a pillow and curled around it on her side. So Victory settled next to her and related the events of Toria’s past day and night to Max. “She’s passing out here on the couch next to me. I want to pass out with her, but we have work to do. I just got home and was about to give you a call.”

“Thank gods she’s okay,” Max said. “If no one answered the phone I was about to tear over there.”

The relief in his voice was a nice change from the earlier panic. Victory returned the phone to her ear once she was sure he wasn’t going to blow her eardrums again. “So, we need to figure out what we’re going to do.”

“On two fronts, now,” Max said. “Both with these idiots here, and now with an army. Toria’s sure Kane and Asaron are okay?”

“Her link with Kane was still strong, but that doesn’t tell her anything about Asaron,” Victory said. Toria wasn’t asleep—she grunted in affirmation, and Victory rubbed her shoulder.

“Can you tell whether he’s okay? He is your sire.”

“Sorry, Max,” Victory said. “I wish it worked like that.”

“Worth a shot,” he said. “So. Meeting?”

“Meeting. With whom?” She wished for a better way to get things done, but that was her mercenary days speaking, when she could grab a sword and fix things her own way. But now too many lives were at stake. And she wasn’t about to try to take on an army by herself. Contrary to Asaron’s stories of her wild youth, she had never been quite that stupid.

“The usual suspects,” Max said. “Daliana, Tristan, Genevieve, Lorus.”

“And Lena.” Her hand stilled on Toria’s shoulder, her complete attention on Max. “Did you know that one of the wolves attacked last night was Tristan’s Second in the werewolf pack? This is a pack matter now, not just a problem for the council to deal with.”

“It became a pack matter when they got kicked out of the Twilight Mists with Mikelos,” Max said. “I haven’t spoken with Tristan, but I’m sure he’s furious.”

“Fun, fun.”

“What was that?” Max said. “You mean you don’t want to deal with an enraged werewolf? I hear they’re almost as obnoxious as enraged vampires.”

“Shush,” Victory said. “Hopefully he’s calmed down a little since last night. We do want this to be a productive meeting.”

“One can only hope. So, you get your ass over here. Since this is going to be on my territory, I’ll make the calls.”

“No problem.” Victory studied her daughter. “I’m bringing Toria. Do you have any other mages in the Guild right now?”

Silence from the other end of the line for a few seconds. “Victory, why do you think I want your pair so badly?”

“There’s no one?”

“Aside from those two, there are maybe a dozen mages in Limani,” Max said. “And none of them come close to matching our two for power. Why, what’s wrong?”

“Toria suffered some sort of power backlash last night—”

“I’m fine,” Toria said, not even opening her eyes.

“—and I wanted someone to take a look at her,” Victory continued over her daughter.

“I can ask Daliana whether she knows of any elves who have experience with mages when I call her,” Max said. “Other than that, I’ve got nothing.”

“Good idea. See you in a few.”

“Take care.”

She switched off the phone before dropping it to the cushion next to her. “Let’s go, sweetie.”

“I’m staying here and sleeping.” The pillow muffled her words. “Tell me how it goes in the morning.”

“No way. I’m getting you checked out,” Victory said. “Come on.”

She’d managed to achieve the tone of voice that made Toria do what she said. It didn’t happen often. With a groan, her daughter pushed herself up. She eyed Victory with irritation. “Can I at least get a shower first? I feel gross.”

“You look gross. I can’t believe I let you on my couch,” Victory said. That got a rise out of Toria, who swatted at her. “Promise not to pass out in the shower?”

“I’ll be fast.” She held out her hands, and Victory stood to pull her off the couch. “But bang on the door after five minutes, just in case.”

Victory slung Toria’s arm across her shoulders and supported her around the waist, walking her out of the family room and back through the kitchen. “I’ll even pick out clothes for you. You can sleep in the car, and I’ll bet Max will let you crash on one of the couches in his office.”

“Like he’ll have much choice.”

Victory helped Toria up the walk toward the front entrance to the Hall, lit up more than usual for this late at night. People must already be here.

“I can walk, Mama.” When they neared the front steps, Toria pulled away from the arm around her waist.

But Victory held her daughter tight. Earlier, she’d rescued Toria from almost falling down the stairs at home, and now she wasn’t taking any chances. Relief washed over Victory when Max opened the front door to greet them.

“Here, let me take her,” he said, coming forward. “Give your mum a rest.” With one swift movement, he hooked his arms behind Toria and swept her up like a baby. “I’m glad you’re okay, girl.”

Toria gave a quiet laugh, then relaxed her head against Max’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

That proved more than exhaustion was plaguing Toria. Standard operating procedure was to contradict all comments Max or anyone else made about her age or general level of experience. Victory held the door for Max while he carried Toria inside. “Have you heard from Daliana?”

“I did,” Max said. “She’s on her way over with someone who may be able to help. Do you want one of the guestrooms on the third floor or a couch in my office?”

“Couch,” came the muffled reply from Max’s shirt. “Better than those things you call beds.”

“I’ll take you up, then,” Max said. He tilted his head toward the common room to the left. “Meet you in a few, Victory. Genevieve and Tristan are already here. Lorus brought a friend. And the coffee’s on.”

Victory pressed a kiss to Toria’s cheek. “I love you. Rest.”

“Love you, too.” Max whisked her up the stairs and away.

Victory could not help watching to make sure Max got up the stairs with her daughter in one piece. She also admired the ease with which Max ascended the stairs. Toria stood three inches taller than Victory, and her muscles were real compared to the strength Victory derived from her vampirism. Maybe it was his elven heritage. Or maybe Max was just that strong.

Once he disappeared around the corner at the top landing, Victory felt able to head for the gathering room, drawn by the sound of talking and aroma of fresh-brewed coffee. She pushed open one of the frosted glass doors to see a handful of people clustered on the room’s four couches drawn together into a lopsided square.

“—is why they will ultimately fail,” was the first clear phrase to reach Victory’s ears. The speaker looked up at Victory’s arrival, then dismissed the vampire to return to her conversation. “Fabbri doesn’t have the charisma needed to lead this kind of revolution. She has the drive, but no finesse.”

Victory lurked by the entrance, identifying the other guests before making her own presence official. Lorus stood by the coffeepots, spooning sugar into a mug. The other two werecreature representatives shared one couch. But who was the elderly woman perched on another sofa lecturing them on revolutionary theory?

Lorus waved Victory over to hand her a mug. “Black, right?”

Victory accepted the drink and took a long sip, savoring the harsh burn of the liquid that would have scalded anyone else. The coffee might be useless to her, but it did make her feel better. Feeling the unnatural warmth soak into her, she said, “Thanks, Lorus.”

“My pleasure,” he said. “Max told us what he knew. How’s Toria?”

She was touched. Victory wasn’t aware Lorus even knew her daughter except by reputation. “Not sure. She seems fine on the outside, if tired. But I think something went wrong magically. Toria’s trying to brush it off, but I can tell she’s not herself.”

“Mother’s intuition,” Lorus said.

“Something like that, I guess,” Victory said. “Daliana’s bringing in someone to check her out.” She curled both hands around the warm mug. “Question for you, though. Who’s the woman I don’t believe I’ve ever seen before?”

Lorus looked pained. “Oh. Yes.” He took a deep breath. “The other werecreatures
of Limani don’t have a proper hierarchy like the wolves and panthers. You know I’m only on council because I’m the only one willing to take the job. Since I don’t have a proper Second, I brought Bethany.” One hand held his coffee mug steady, but the other traced nervous patterns on the side of his pants leg.

“I’m sensing regret here.”

“Well, I thought it would be a good idea,” Lorus said. “I figure any plan we get her to agree with should get the support of the rest of the other weres. But I always forget that she’s kind of cranky. And she’s gotten worse with age.”

Almost on cue, Bethany’s voice rose against a response from Genevieve. “I don’t care what right Fabbri has! She’s acting like an upstart little cub with this group of hers. I say we go in and clean them all out.”

Victory studied the woman more closely, noting the gray-streaked black hair, the plain clothing, the slight plumpness around the waist. “She doesn’t look terribly intimidating. More like someone’s old aunt. What type of creature is she?”

“A badger,” Lorus said.

“They make werebadgers?”

Lorus flicked his tongue at her, a disturbing reptilian sight from a human face. “They make weresnakes.”

“Point taken.”

“Shall we sit?” Lorus gestured toward an empty couch. The seat in the room farthest away from Bethany.

Repressing a smile, Victory said, “Let’s.” She curled up in the corner of the couch with a pillow in her lap. Had Lorus heard about Kane and Asaron or just that Toria was injured? “Do you—”

The doors to the room opened and Max escorted Daliana and Lena in. “Good, everyone’s here,” he said. “Have a seat, ladies. I’ll be right back, and we can get started.”

Daliana settled herself between Victory and Lorus. “Zerandan is one of our more powerful mages. He’s talking with Toria now.”

Victory quashed the automatic fears accompanying the thought of Toria alone with a strange man. If Daliana trusted him, that was enough for her.

Perhaps sensing Victory’s hesitation, Daliana said, “He’s my grandfather.”

Well. In that case. “Thank you,” Victory said.

“What is she doing here?” Tristan glared at Lena.

Genevieve put a hand on his arm, but Lorus spoke up first. “She’s on the council with us. One of the nonelected members. Isn’t that status the problem Fabbri has with us?”

“But she’s a human. And we’re dealing with the Humanist problem.”

Victory was ready to leap to her friend’s defense along with Lorus, but Lena was faster. “Perhaps you don’t know this,” she said, the politeness in her voice blade-sharp, “but I was thrown out of Fabbri’s restaurant right beside Victory. I may be a pureblood human, but I’ve thrown my lot in with the monsters and that makes me even worse. So I’m here.”

“Monsters?” Genevieve said, a note of challenge in her voice.

“I wandered around the farmers’ market this morning,” Lena said. “The Humanists were recruiting. ‘Monster’ was one of the nicer terms I heard.”

“Then we are glad to have you on our side,” Genevieve said.

Tristan slumped in his seat, and Victory noted the unshaven chin and rumpled clothing. He must worry for his Second, Gregory, the same way she did for Mikelos. Her aggravation at him drained away. He was in the same situation.

The conversation halted when Max reentered the room, and Victory got the uncanny feeling her daughter once described to her—teacher was back in the classroom, so the troublemakers faded into the background. Well, this was Max’s territory, and werecreatures respected territory and dominance more than anything else.

Max took the empty seat next to Bethany, a notebook and pen in hand. “So. The situation. Victory’s daywalker Mikelos is in the hospital, along with an elf and two werewolves.” He held up the crumpled flier Daliana showed them the night before. “The Humanists have declared themselves an active organization and are not likely to stop with these attacks. On top of it all, the Roman Army is camped outside our borders and the vampire Asaron and warrior-mage Kane Nalamas have been taken prisoner. For reasons unknown, they left behind the warrior-mage Toria Connor, but she might be suffering from some kind of magical attack.”

Genevieve interrupted when Max paused for breath. “Poor Victory. Your family has come out the worst from all this.”

“Might that be intentional?” Lena now studied the Humanist flier. She passed it to Lorus and looked up at Victory. “It wouldn’t be the first time grand events have been orchestrated to enact personal revenge against you.”

“I don’t think so,” Victory said, “but I can’t say for certain. It would be more likely for Asaron to have major enemies. Besides, they might not have even known who they were capturing.”

“But who with a grudge against Asaron would try to take on the whole city?” Genevieve said. “He’s not even a permanent resident.”

“The Humanists can’t have predicted Mikelos would try to go dancing,” Victory said. “And the Romans can’t have known Max would send anyone on recon so soon.”

“So we take it all at face value for right now,” Max said. “Humanists on one side, Romans on the other, and Victory stuck in the middle out of sheer coincidence.” He consulted his notebook. “First question—how the hell are we going to deal with all this?”

Since she’d already read the flier and felt no urge to see the dried bloodstains a second time, Victory passed it right to Daliana, who also handed it to Tristan without reading it.

“Shouldn’t the Roman Army be a problem of the complete city council?” Daliana said.

“Right now the council doesn’t have the solidarity to fight its way out of a paper bag,” Lorus said.

“And I’d still like to know how Emily Fabbri knew about them at the meeting last night,” Max said. “We can’t assume that there’s no connection between these problems.”

He had something there. Another thought occurred to Victory, almost lost in the madness of the night before. “That would be too much of a coincidence,” she said. “Remember, Fabbri wanted to use the army to distract us from moving to impeach her.”

The Humanist flier reached Bethany, and the woman spoke up in outrage. “Easy solution, then, to at least one of the problems. We don’t have time to fuck around. We know exactly where these Humanists are going to be and when. We go in and wipe them out. Then we deal with the Romans without any of this internal nonsense.”

Everyone in the room gaped at her. Next to her, Lorus sank into the couch.

“Sure, that’s brilliant,” Genevieve said. “If we want a civil war, allowing the Romans to waltz in and kill everyone while we’re too busy fighting each other.”

“But isn’t that the point?” Max said. “The Romans are camped out on our border. The easiest invasion is when you can walk in and take over. Victory?”

He needed agreement from the one person in the room ever involved in a large-scale war. Victory was more than happy to provide one. “It’s true. I’ve been on both ends, and even if the city shows no resistance, it’s not pretty. Keep in mind that all of us are automatically marked for death because we’re political figures. And this is Limani. Even if the council surrenders, the city’s not going to go peacefully.”

“Rioting in the streets, then looting and rape when the Romans pour in,” Max said.

Victory forced her eyes to remain open. If she closed them, the memories of scenes Max described would be all too vivid.