Chapter Twelve
Vladimir
Grant follows that abhorrent example of a vampire through a door into the back of the club, and it is all I can do to keep my position, situated as I am to keep careful eyes on both the bodyguard and the bartender, who clearly work for Jakob.
It is a useful scheme. The bartender was wary of Grant to begin with, deeming him unworthy, but I can see how he might work as part of a well-oiled machine.
Give those young vampires spiked blood and their defences will already be lowered.
The bodyguard is intimidating enough to frighten away other interested parties, and Jakob charming enough to lure the vampires in and assuage their friends’ fears.
Now he has taken Grant. Now—
The bond between us goes suddenly still. No panic. No fear. It is as though Grant has chosen to block me from sensing anything he feels, and for a short moment, my vision goes red.
I put my hands behind my back, one squeezing the opposite wrist. No. I trust him. He asked me to let him handle this. I told him I did not want Jakob to touch him, but I can—objectively, reluctantly—understand that he might want to go further in aid of—
My stomach turns. Centuries of self-control keep my expression even. Grant understands that he does not have to do everything Jakob wishes, I hope. We would never ask that of him. Even if the Huntsman did, I would not allow it.
Minutes pass, concern gnawing away at my insides.
The bartender is busy, and besides, his job is clearly not to keep an eye on Jakob once he has chosen his prey.
The bodyguard remains in position beside the booth, keeping others from taking it, but I have no doubt that most of his attention is on that door.
I did not see one in the other room. There should be a way to get into the back from outside, but what if I leave here and Grant emerges and cannot find me?
I have almost convinced myself to step outside and check when my phone buzzes against my hip. It startles me, and my blessing shakes, but fortunately not enough for either of the vampires in this room with me to look my way. If the fae were here… She cannot be. I would sense it. I am sure.
When I retrieve my phone from my pocket and see Grant’s name, I do a double take. He must be far from here. Did he run? Did something happen?
I slip from the room, moving only a little faster than I should, and then out onto the street before I answer.
“Grant.”
“Vlad?” He sounds breathless. Worried. “Are you on the way back?”
“I—Where are you?”
“I-I had to leave. He—” Grant’s voice breaks. “Vlad, please.”
I would never say no to him, not when he truly needs me, and now it sounds as though he does.
“Are you at the hotel?”
“Nearly there.”
“Get inside. Through the wards. I will be with you soon.”
He moves faster than I do, and besides, he sounds scared. I have no doubt he will run, and I can worry about the consequences of that later.
“Okay. See you soon.”
Grant hangs up before I can reply, and I make sure I am out of sight of any humans before I break into a run.
Luckily, it is late enough, and Margate is quiet enough tonight that I do not encounter anyone along the way.
I straighten my suit before I walk into the hotel lobby, though the young man working at the reception does not give me so much as a second glance.
The stairs are faster than the lift, but CCTV exists, and now I am certain I can feel the faint pulse of the bond that exists between Grant and myself, which calms me enough to wait. When I reach our floor, the wards are still intact.
He is in there. He is safe.
Only, when I open the door, I do not come face-to-face with my turn at all.
Two fae stand in our room. Only one is a true threat, but I am caught off guard, expecting neither of them, and she strikes before I can even call my blessing to the surface.
Her magic captures me, holding me tight.
The other fae darts past to push me more firmly into the room before he shuts the door.
“That’s better,” the high fae says. She tosses her blond hair before she perches on the edge of the bed, crossing one leg over the other.
The other fae prowls around me. He is a redcap, I think, something vicious flaring in his eyes.
“I did not anticipate how much the young vampire might mean to you.”
“What have you done with him?” I strain against the invisible bonds that have me tight in their grasp. Where is he? Why is he not here? I do not for a second believe that Grant has joined her, joined them. So, how did she lure me here?
Another fae slips out of the bathroom, pale eyes flicking around the place. Those eyes narrow when they land on me, and a whip of magic lashes out, searing through me.
“Enough,” the high fae snaps. “His shape will be of no use to you.”
“Oh, no? The little vampire was useful in bringing him here.”
My stomach sinks. A high fae, a redcap who appears to have separated from his clan, and a puca. And Grant is not here. Has been taken by whoever she is, for whatever purpose.
“What will you do with him?”
She does not do me the dishonour of intentionally misinterpreting what I am asking. Instead, she gracefully shrugs one shoulder and rests her hands on the duvet. “Same as the others. Well, similar. I am hopeful for a different outcome, but not optimistic.”
“I… What? A different outcome?”
“The other experiments have all been dreadful failures, I am afraid. And if I am to achieve my goals, I need a suitable subject. Sadly, this”—she encompasses the redcap and the puca in a single wave of her hand—“is not enough.”
“Why Grant?”
“Grant.” Her eyes flare wide, and I swallow down my mistake. I have failed him. I failed him the moment I allowed him to come on this job, and I knew it then, but I allowed it anyway.
Even Asher warned me. If nothing else, I should not have let him follow Jakob through that door.
The high fae gets to her feet and approaches me slowly. The redcap growls, but she raises a hand, and the growl trails off, but his scowl remains. She tilts her head to one side, studying my face.
“He really does play it safe,” she says.
“Who?”
“Iagan.”
“Who?”
Vicious delight paints her features. Just for a second. Just one. “Your Huntsman, of course.”
“What are you talking about?” I growl and my blessing surges, trying to push through her magic, but I do not even make a dent. Is this how helpless Grant felt when she took him?
“You really do not understand how dire the situation is over there, do you?”
“That does not matter to me.”
“Oh, of course it does not. Why should it? You are not one of us, despite the magic he handed over to you.”
“I am still a vampire.”
She huffs, turning away. “And that is precisely my problem.”
I frown—the words are softer, as though they are not for my ears at all. “What do you want with Grant?”
“I want someone to help me rule,” she says, turning back to me again. “No single fae can carry the crowns alone. Our queen has lasted longer than any have expected. But even now, her light flickers, and soon she will be gone and that throne will be vacant.”
“There are those to step up,” I reply. There are princes. I have heard that from the other fae, even if I do not know why they are not doing so now.
“They cannot rule alone, either,” the fae replies, and she lets her glamour slip so her smile reveals pointed, dangerous teeth. “They chased their soulbonds to the mortal realm on some silly whim, and what has that achieved? Our realm is tearing itself apart and before our queen has truly left us!”
“You think you can rule?”
“We need someone. Unseelie. Powerful.” She glances around the room. “Someone who understands that this realm has evolved in the thousand years since the veil descended between us. If we ever want to return here and make it our own, we must be ready.”
“You underestimate them. Us.”
“Not you. I got the measure of you as soon as he shouted your name, Vladimir.”
A snarl tears itself from my throat, and for one second, her magic falters and mine surges forward. It is not enough. The redcap grabs my arms, unmovable as any boulder, and the puca drops low, hissing through his teeth.
“It’s fine,” she says, magic rippling and restraining me again, though I can see the flicker of doubt in her eyes. “Neither of you has long left.”
“I do not understand what you are trying to achieve with him.”
“There are a great many things you do not understand.” She sits back on the bed. “What I do not understand is what you were sent here to achieve. Clearly, neither of you was prepared to face me.”
I press my lips together, but all she does is smile, studying my face. The puca does the same, and the second probe of his magic is less painful than the first. His human glamour is short and skinny, face pinched and narrow.
“You wanted to find out about me,” she says after a long moment of silence. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
I growl. Whatever I felt of the bond between me and Grant before is gone, that same eerie silence in its place that descended when he went into that back room. Is he still alive? It is not yet light, though I can feel the sun rising. If she has blocked our bond, will I feel anything when he—
“Do not look so despairing. You will soon join him.”
The redcap tightens his grip on my arms. I could kill him and the puca too. I have faced worse before. But she has power that might just rival that of the Huntsman, and I will never be able to face him down and win.
“Let him go,” I say. “Please. Take me in his stead.”
She studies me again, and this time when she gets to her feet, it is with an air of finality. I bite back another growl when she grips my chin, the touch cold iron.
“If only that would work. Sadly, there is only one of you I want, and I already have him, so…” She lets go and sighs. “Do not look so upset. You will not have to survive long without him.”
I do not look away. I do not blink. She smiles again and clicks her tongue against her teeth.
“A name, that’s what you came for, I assume? Have this one. Eirian. For all the good it will do you.”
She leaves without another word. The redcap’s grip on my arms only tightens, and the puca grins before he sheds his glamour. He becomes shadow, lengthening to grotesque proportions until he towers over both of us.
“He will kill you,” I say, focusing on the puca more than the redcap. Redcaps are generally straightforward. “When the Huntsman finds Eirian, he will kill all of you.”
“There are more than three of us to kill,” the puca says, voice coming from every corner of the room.
I tense my shoulders. Even a high fae can only hold her magic for so long without taking steps to tie it to the place or the person, and the more distance she puts between us, the weaker her grip on me becomes.
That magic stretches and stretches and all at once, it snaps. Shadows shift, a gaping maw opening in a grin. The redcap behind me tenses.
Sunlight already filters through a single gap in the curtains. I know, should I stand in it, should I fall into it, that will be the end of me, whether I have the Huntsman’s blessing or not.
I cannot feel Grant at all. Rage and sorrow tug at my heart, fill my lungs. I have felt grief before, but never quite like this.
I will kill them. I will send the Huntsman the name. That done, I will walk into the sun myself.
The redcap grunts. His own magic is thick and clumsy, whereas the puca’s fills the room. Mine surges in me.
I growl, tear from his grasp, and leap into the shadows.