Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
TAVISH
We flew for several hours before the mountains gave way to rolling hills, then farmland, then flat plains crisscrossed by rivers.
As the night sky lightened to gray, a city spread below us, the size of it almost incomprehensible. Thousands of buildings lined streets that sprawled across the ground like a spiderweb. Glass glittered in the windows. And, everywhere, light blazed.
Not candles or lamps. This was a dazzling display, as if a giant had grabbed stars from the sky and flung them to the earth. The horseless carriages crawled all over the city, moving up and down the streets like beetles.
Portia clutched the chronomancer’s velvet bag in her claws like it might vanish if she loosened her grip. Albie flew close to her, the tip of his wing nearly grazing hers.
She was young, and we’d flown for a long time. She had to be tired. Dawn approached. We needed to land.
I angled toward the city’s outskirts, where the buildings thinned and darkness pooled between them. A narrow alley caught my eye. It was empty, its brick walls covered in shadow.
Perfect.
I dove. Albie and Portia followed, and the three of us shifted to smoke as we approached our target. We streamed into the alley and shifted to two feet.
Portia stumbled, and I caught her arm and steadied her against me. Albie pushed her clothes against my chest.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, already moving toward the alley’s mouth. “I want to figure out where we are.”
“Wallachia,” I said. I’d recognized the Danube from the air.
He paused, turning back with a smile. “Aye, love, but that might have changed.” Then he was gone, slipping into the street.
A horseless carriage rumbled past the alley’s opening, its headlamps slicing two bright paths through the predawn gloom.
“I think I like this time,” I said.
Silence met me, and I looked down at Portia. Her black hair lay in tangles over her bare breasts. The velvet bag dangled from her hand. Tiny goosebumps covered her arms. My woman was barefoot in an alley, and here I stood gawking at the scenery.
“We need to get you dressed,” I said.
She didn’t reply. She just stood silently, her eyes blank and her lower lip caught between her teeth.
“Portia.”
Nothing. Gods, she was slipping into shock.
I’d been foolish to keep her in the air as long as I had.
But I’d also been eager to put as much distance as possible between us and the vampires.
The leeches were vicious, and we’d killed one of their women.
It was the sort of thing that started blood feuds that spanned generations.
Taking Portia by the shoulder, I gave her a gentle shake. “Portia, lass. Look at me, hmm? You’re naked in an alley, and there are humans about.”
At last, she focused on my face. She blinked slowly, then shivered. “I’m cold.”
Relief coursed through me. “Aye, that’s to be expected.” I juggled the clothing in my hands and came up with her chemise. “Lucky for both of us, I’ve got the remedy.”
She let me dress her, obediently raising her arms so I could slip the thin fabric over her head.
She was still shivering, so I worked quickly, helping her into her petticoat and then her skirt.
I skipped the corset and its ladder of ribbons, which were still wet from the snow.
She clutched the chronomancer’s velvet bag like a lifeline.
“I’ll hold that if you want,” I said softly as I fastened the damp ties of her skirt. “I won’t let anything happen to it.”
She waited until I finished before she faced me. “That’s okay,” she whispered, her voice cracking on the last word. Tears sprinted down her cheeks.
“Och,” I said, rubbing the moisture away with my thumbs. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m so sorry about the vampire,” she rasped, her voice breaking completely. “I didn’t mean to interfere. But when she hit him with that whip, I couldn’t just stand there. She might have killed that thrall.”
“I know.”
“You’re not angry?”
“No.”
“Why?” Portia cried.
I couldn’t help but feel like I’d stumbled into a skirmish, only I had no idea which side I fought on.
Easing a toe onto the battlefield, I chose my words carefully. “Are you…angry at me for not being angry?”
She scrubbed her heel over her cheek, leaving a streak of dirt on her face as she wiped her tears. “We killed Prince Ludovic’s wife.”
It wasn’t ideal, and only the gods knew what it meant for the timeline. But I couldn’t mourn a dead leech. “You have a tender heart, lass. There’s no shame in that.”
Portia made a frustrated sound. “You don’t understand. Ludovic is Halina of Krovnosta’s father. Halina is mated to my Uncle Bram. He’s my mother’s twin brother.”
I frowned. “I thought you had a twin brother.”
“I do. My mother is also a twin.” She put a hand on my chest, and a desperate look entered her eyes. “But that’s not the important part. What if I just messed up Halina’s future?”
I tried to connect all the threads she’d placed in front of me. Albie would have figured it out in seconds.
“You said the vampire we killed was married to Ludovic?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“So she could have been this Halina’s mother.”
“No, just a stepmother, but we’re in the 1920s. Halina hasn’t been born yet.”
My world tilted a little. We’d sped far into the future. Although, as far as Portia was concerned, we were still in the past.
“Halina is a dhampir,” she said. “Her mother was a human thrall. The vampire we killed tonight was probably the mother of her half-brother, Aleksander. He’s dead in my time, but he should be alive now.
I think.” Portia frowned. “Oh gods, what if I set the Butterfly Effect in motion when I saved Mistress Drexel, and that led to us coming here, and now—”
“Slow down, lass,” I said, grabbing her shoulders. She snapped her mouth shut, and I gentled my tone as I cupped her face. “If the vampire we killed wasn’t Halina’s mother, then maybe everything is all right.”
“We don’t know that,” Portia said.
“We also don’t not know it.”
Her brows drew together.
Footsteps approached. “It’s Albie,” I told Portia. I’d know his gait anywhere.
A second later, he rounded the end of the alley and rushed toward us, his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright behind his spectacles.
“We’re in Bucure?ti,” he said, rolling his R and putting a sh sound on the S. “But I spoke with an Englishman who called it Bucharest.” He hooked a thumb toward the mouth of the alley behind him. “And I found us a hotel for the night.”
“A what?” I asked.
“An inn. The humans here call them hotels.” He spoke in a rush, his voice breathless.
“This time is astounding, Tavish. There’s so much to see.
And they harnessed lightning.” He cupped one hand over the opposite palm.
“It’s light in a glass, and it’s everywhere, in all the buildings.
You just switch them on, and it’s like daylight. You have to experience it.”
I couldn’t control my smile. “Later, darling. Right now, we have to get Portia into some dry clothes.”
He looked at her, instant contrition stamped on his features. “Of course. Come on. It’s not far.”
He led us through winding streets illuminated with the lightning in a glass. Even with dawn just beginning to spread over the city, the streets were busy. Humans bustled about, more than a few casting curious looks at our clothes.
“Here we are,” Albie said, gesturing to a tall building with rows of windows. It looked more like a palace than an inn, its white facade dominating one corner of the street.
“You’re certain this is the right place?” I asked, eyeing the balls of light that blazed atop metal poles stationed on either side of the marble stairs that led to glossy black doors. A human in a dark suit and matching cap observed us from the top step, a bewildered look on his face.
“Aye, I’m certain,” Albie murmured. He tucked Portia’s hand into his elbow, then urged me forward with his other hand on my arm. “Now, hurry up, Tavish, before we attract a crowd.”
The human raised his eyebrows as he opened the door, but he ducked his head when I held his stare.
We entered a spacious chamber with polished marble floors and enough woodwork to fill a cathedral.
More lights shimmered in glass bulbs, and a carved table held a porcelain vase full of colorful flowers.
A pair of women in pleated dresses no thicker than a nightgown stopped in their tracks and stared, their painted lips parting.
I glowered at them, and they gasped and scurried off, their heeled shoes clicking rapidly on the marble.
A second human man approached us, his suit identical to the one worn by the man at the door. Judging from his soft smile and slightly vacant expression, Albie had spoken with him on his first visit to the hotel.
“This way, Mr. MacLean,” he said in accented English, a dreamy quality in his voice. “I have your room prepared.”
I spoke in Albie’s ear as we followed him. “You told him your real name?”
“I’ll make him forget it,” Albie said under his breath.
The human led us to a wide corridor lined with sets of double doors. A bell dinged, and I spun around, one hand going for a weapon. But, of course, I didn’t have one.
“It’s okay,” Portia murmured, squeezing my forearm. “It’s just an elevator.”
Elevator?
A second ding rang out, and a pair of doors slid open, revealing a metal box inside. A third man in a black suit poked his head out.
The man guiding us rattled off something in a foreign tongue, then turned to us. “This way, please.”
Albie started forward.
I stared at the elevator, apprehension tingling over my skin.
“Tavish…” Portia said, tugging at my arm.
“What’s that box do?” I asked.
She grinned. “It carries people up and down between floors so they don’t have to climb the stairs.”
I knew my confusion showed on my face. “Why would anyone need such a thing?”
“Well…” She glanced at the box. “There are a lot of stairs.” She tightened her hold on my arm, and she lowered her voice as she added, “The attendant is watching us.”