Chapter Eleven #3
Her words stilted and formal as anything spoken at the queen’s court, this new Angie said, “I have been Jane Yellowrock’s godchild since I was a toddler.
I have been a member of Clan Yellowrock since the night she formed it.
I have been a member of the Dark Queen’s court for decades.
I am the ward of the Emperor of Europe. Everything I do while wearing her blue-black and gold armor reflects upon her.
This?” She gestured along her body. “This is my personal armor. This is my fight. My battle.”
She settled her gaze on Walter, who didn’t seem surprised.
“Any mistakes I make while wearing this armor will reflect solely upon me. Any challenges that I offer will be in my name only; any that I accept, in my name only, reflect solely upon me.”
“And any offenses that are made to the queen’s godchild, the queen’s family, and the queen’s court will be answered by me,” Walter said from where he had sat, straddling a kitchen chair, leaning forward on the chair’s back.
It sounded rehearsed. As if…“You two have done this before,” EJ said, the realization coming slow. “Before I joined The Firm.”
“Once, Evan Everhart-Trueblood Jr.,” Walter said.
“Angelina is acting upon her own purposes tonight, at least at first. However, if there is a Rus witch in the Marrazzo Clan Home, it will be a declaration of war against the queen. Should that happen, Angelina can be shielded and enfolded by the queen’s standard and crest after she appears.
But once so declared, she cannot step away from it.
Once she herself calls upon the protection of the queen, once she dons the armor of the queen’s colors or claims the royal banner, every footstep taken, every gesture, every word spoken, will reflect upon the Dark Queen. ”
“Until then, I’m a free agent,” Angie said, still wearing the strange smile from earlier.
“Anyone going to tell me about this previous time?”
“No,” they both said.
“And my job?” EJ asked. He leaned a shoulder against the wall, “I assumed I was part of a recon. Maybe a referee to a meet and greet. Your magical backup in case of a problem. This”—he gestured to his sister’s wardrobe—“and Walter’s decision to kill Willim Yorath to keep me from doing so first, looks more like a vamp provocation. ”
“Your sister is perfectly confusing. With this armor, and without the queen’s crest pinned to her breast, few will know what to make of her.” Walter’s eyes slid to EJ. “And without armor all will be equally puzzled about your role. I suggest that you do wear a gorget. Angelina?”
Angie tossed EJ a finely armored gorget sewn onto Dyneema.
EJ caught it with his left hand and hooked it around his neck. He was grateful he had worn a turtleneck against the cold steel.
Walter placed three headsets on the table. “We are under the queen’s banner at the moment. These are no longer illegal.”
Angie grinned and, for a moment, looked like her usual self. “Saddle up, little brother. We might get to kill some bad guys tonight.”
“One can hope,” Walter said, his tone implying more than the words.
Almost flippantly, Angie said, “One last thing, Walter. May I study your brand?”
Instantly his fangs snapped down. His eyes blackened. He stepped back, reaching for his shortsword.
Without thought, EJ pulled Delta to the forefront of his mind. One hand drew a weapon loaded with vamp rounds.
Walter froze, unmoving, an electric quiver of out-of-sync tones running through him. As if by force of will, he lowered his hand. Forced his fingers into a fist so he couldn’t draw a weapon.
EJ watched Walter’s face and body mechanics as the vamp fought a compulsion. He conquered it, but slowly. His fangs clicked back into his mouth with only a slight unhinging of his jaw. His eyes bled back to a soft brown with hints of green.
“Well, that tells me a lot,” his sister said.
EJ lifted his eyebrows quizzically, Delta ready to unfold. He didn’t put away his weapon.
“Your brand was glowing with magic at Chancy/Cennet’s house,” Angie said. “It seems to have a working in it of some sort.
“EJ, do you hear anything?” she asked.
“Walter?” EJ asked. “May I approach?”
“Yes.” The single word was clipped, very British, and drenched with insult.
EJ stepped close to Walter and listened, before stepping back. “No notes, no sounds, no music. Any light right now?”
“No,” Angie said.
“You think a latent working was activated?” EJ asked, following Angie’s lead in keeping things impersonal, as if Walter didn’t stand there in front of them like a statue of leashed rage.
“Could be,” she said. “Layered and dormant and I’m not about to touch it. Something activated it. Like maybe when he was disturbed by the trapped children. Either way, if he gets weird, he gets staked.”
EJ looked at their bodyguard and suddenly smiled. “Sounds like fun.”
Walter laughed, his reaction so quick, he snorted. And just like that, he was his old Walter, stick up his butt and everything. EJ put away his weapon and pressed Delta back into its little corner of his mind.
Walter opened the door to Angie’s apartment. “Proceed, Angelina.”
Carrying her cloak over her uninjured arm, the staff in the same hand, Angie strode from her apartment. Without a backward glance, Walter followed her.
EJ took up the rear, feeling…insignificant.
Practically irrelevant.
It wasn’t a feeling he’d experienced, not since the worst moments of the war.