Chapter 5
Built in the tenth year after The Overshadowing, the Border House is more than simply a residence for the messengers of Nightsbridge. Its secrets, however, are only disclosed to the guardians who man its many halls.
HISTORY OF NIGHTSbrIDGE
I shut down the memories of my father and our final days together.
Days filled with fear and sorrow until death came for him in the form of Sterling Damascus.
He was one of many dhampirs—products of vampire and human procreation—bred to act as bodyguards and weapons for their pure-blood sires.
But what set him apart was that his sire was a royal.
Sterling Damascus was the bastard prince and blood blade of the Damascus house.
I hadn’t seen his murderous face the night he killed my father, but I’d heard his name said over and over, and I’d vowed to one day end him. He’d always been out of my reach, elusive and hidden, until now.
Now he was here.
A Hunter.
Trapped.
I could get to him. Drive a stake through his blackened heart or cut off his lying head. I could finally have my revenge—if only the option hadn’t been taken from me by contracts of blood and oaths of duress.
But where there were pacts, there were loopholes, and in time I would find one. I’d get my vengeance because patience was a virtue that I’d had plenty of time to cultivate.
Serendipity, you beautiful bitch.
We passed through the stone arch into a cobbled courtyard, enclosed by towering gray stone walls crawling with flowering vines.
The blue wards above shimmered in welcome, and the air pressed down on me, pregnant with power.
The hum of that power was a gentle buzz in my ears and a prickle across my skin.
I breathed deep, taking in the heady, electric scent of magic.
This… This was my birthright, and my body seemed to know it, recognize it.
Yearn for it. This…missing piece of me. They’d kept it from me.
From my family. They’d left us broken and incomplete.
But soon, I’d know what it felt like to be whole, to have magic coursing through me.
The Border House loomed over me, an imposing, if not strange-looking building.
It reminded me of a tower house Mother had taken me to see once.
A remnant of our past, it had withstood the elements and whatever wars might have been waged upon it.
The Border House was a larger, more opulent version of that.
Sandstone, if I wasn’t mistaken, with narrow windows looking out at the world inquisitively.
What made the building truly strange were the two smaller towers bolted onto the main structure using a metal framework, so that the building looked as if it had arms.
The double doors to the tower swung open, and a tall, whip-thin man came hurrying out. His brown coat flapped about his calves as he took the steps down to us two at a time.
“How bad is it?” he demanded, gaze flying from Drayven to me.
“Mudarks attacked and derailed the tram,” Drayven said. “Onyx escaped but was attacked by Echoes. She needs medical attention.”
“Right,” the man said. “Darla’s in her lab. She’ll fix you up.”
Drayven lowered his body, my cue to climb off. My boots hit the ground, and the world tilted. I grabbed hold of him to steady myself.
“Anamaya, you are not all right,” Drayven said.
I clung to him for a beat, breathing in his woodsy pine scent and stealing his body heat while the dizziness ebbed. “I’m fine.” I stepped away to illustrate just how fine I was.
“Head wounds are nothing to sniff at,” the Border House man said. “You tell me if you feel faint.”
I wasn’t used to such concern from strangers. “Honestly, I’m fine now.”
“When’s the last time you ate?” Drayven asked me.
“Last night. I think.” Food hadn’t seemed like a requirement the last few days.
“Talbot,” Drayven said to the man. “Get her some dry clothes and get a raven to Vitra to make sure she’s fed.” Then to me, “Good luck with the Superna Coterie.”
My stomach dipped at the mention of Nightsbridge’s governing body. My first hurdle.
Drayven dipped his head in farewell, then bounded back through the arch, a distant speck in a second.
And I thought I was fast.
Now that Drayven was gone, I fully expected Talbot’s attitude to shift—a curl of the lip or derision in his eyes—but he merely sighed and ushered me to follow him.
Well, that was three easy receptions so far.
Unheard of and disconcerting. Were they trying to get me to drop my guard?
Like hell was that going to happen. If they were playing nice, then I could play nice right back. If years of pretending to be someone else had taught me anything, it was never to take anything at face value.
* * *
The inside of the tower was a vast hollow space of sandstone slabs and wooden beams. A metal staircase hugged the walls, winding up but stopping at each floor to connect with a walkway before disappearing into the shadows high above.
Ravens flew back and forth between floors overhead, vanishing into large holes carved into the walls.
Talbot caught me staring. “Every raven has his personal nook with an external exit. Maddox and Murder, the head ravens, have assigned each raven a tower to serve, but the Haematophages prefer to use serpentwhisper as their form of messenger.”
“Snakes?” I suppressed a shudder. Snakes were not my favorite creature. “You have snakes here?”
“Don’t worry. You won’t see one unless it wants to be seen, and then only because it has a message for you. Come.”
Did he seriously think that made me feel better?
He led me to an ancient lift in the center of the chamber, which was nothing more than a wooden box in a metal frame with a gridded concertina door. It looked battered and unstable, stretching all the way up into the shadows, connecting to each floor by a rusty-looking framework.
I hesitated, not a fan of heights on the best of days. “Is that thing safe?”
“Old Betsy here? Safe as houses,” Talbot said. He hauled open the lift door with a rattle and a creak. “In you hop.”
The contraption groaned and shuddered as we made our way up four flights. I caught a glimpse into a few nooks, each lined with greenery and glowing softly from within.
Betsy ground to a halt, and we stepped onto a walkway where only a thin railing kept us from a fifty-foot drop. I hurried after Talbot through an archway and into a corridor. He took a left, then a right down a second corridor, then another left.
“How big is this place?”
“Much larger than it looks from the outside.”
A man dressed in brown and black hurried past carrying a sack over his shoulder. He caught my gaze briefly but quickly looked away.
Human, if I wasn’t mistaken. “Who’s that?”
“One of the raven keepers. They make sure the messengers are fed and watered.”
“So humans work here?”
“You’re full of questions, aren’t you?”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
“I suppose so.”
I gave him a beat of silence before asking the question that burned in my chest. “What about the radio? Who mans that?”
He slowed his pace and sighed. “Ah…yes…about that…unfortunately, the Onyx name can evoke strong emotions among the Arcanus, but be assured, the culprit will be reprimanded.”
Will be. Might be. I’d heard it all before, but my tormentors were never punished. Not unless I did it myself. “How? I mean, what’s the punishment for attempted murder in this place?”
He cleared his throat. “That really isn’t my department.”
“Then whose is it?”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“You’re perceptive.”
“You’ll need to speak with Heidi Embercrest, head of the Embercrest Coven and one of the Trinity Tower Masters. Don’t expect a warm welcome.”
Now that was more like it. “I’d expect nothing less.”
We entered a small room that smelled like incense. Shelves laden with bottles of all colors, shapes, and sizes lined the walls, and a small, silver-haired woman sat at a table, working a mortar and pestle. She looked up as we entered, tongue peeking out from the corner of her mouth.
“Darla, we have a head wound,” Talbot said.
She hopped off her stool and bustled over.
“Come on, lovely, take a seat.” She indicated a second stool on the other side of her desk, and I slid onto it.
“Goodness, look at you. Soaked through. We’ll see to that in a moment.
” She unwound my bandage and grimaced. “Nasty.” She prodded the area around the wound gently, then frowned. “That must hurt like a bunny trap.”
“I have a high pain threshold.” My inability to feel pain was my secret—and it might come in useful here.
She continued to examine me for a few more seconds, and I took the opportunity to study her. Her petite stature marked her as a halfling—a breed of supernal who, if my history knowledge was correct, were all but extinct.
“Hmm…just as well you do have a high pain threshold,” she said, “because you’re going to need a stitch or two, and I’m out of numbing agents.”
“I can handle it.”
Fifteen minutes later, my head wound had been cleaned, stitched, smeared with some weird-smelling gunk, and bandaged.
Darla handed me dry clothes and pulled out a screen so I could change with a little privacy.
The tunic and pants she provided smelled of soap and were soft against my chilled skin, while the wool socks were a hug for my feet.
I shrugged my coat back on and stepped out from behind the screen, clutching my wet clothes.
She held out her hands for them. “I’ll pass them to Domestic for laundering.
” I handed over the bundle. “Keep that bandage on for a day. Then you’ll need to clean the area and rebandage.
If you’re staying, Old Vitra can summon me for you,” Darla said.
“Now, off with you. I have work to do.” She went back to her desk, to her notes and pestle and mortar, dismissing us.
I followed Talbot back into the corridor. “Who’s Old Vitra?”
“Your Tower Master, and he’s expecting you.”
Another arch led to a flight of steps that took us to a circular room bathed in a rainbow of colors spilling from the many windows that made up the walls.
The nighttime landscape was visible through each colorful haze. Shadowy shapes jutted up in the distance—towers and, somewhere in between, a majestic castle that seemed to rise above it all, balanced on a jagged, jutting section of land.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Talbot said. “Main Building sits on an island in an inlet at sea. Only way in or out is by port or bridge. You’ll need the azure window to get to Bramble Tower.”
Wait a second. “You want me to step through a window?”
“No, I want you to step through a port, which is what the windows are.”
“That’s a port?” I pointed at the azure window through which I could clearly see the outside world. “If my gut didn’t tell me otherwise, I’d think you were trying to finish the job your radio man started.”
Talbot snorted. “If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have alerted the Hunters that you were in trouble.”
“Good point.” I took a deep breath. I bloody hated heights, but I’d learned to keep my weaknesses and strengths close to my chest. So I shrugged, overtly unconcerned. “Okay, here goes.”
I climbed the steps to the window, offered Talbot a jaunty salute, and before I could overthink it, stepped through the window.
My stomach dropped.
And I fell.