Bloodkin (17 page)

Whose did I want it to be?

THE LIBRARY HAD
a large conference table, and then more books than I had ever imagined. Were they history, philosophy, or just stories intended to help idle away the eternal hours? What did immortal creatures read?

I walked along the shelves and found it hard not to touch the leather-bound tomes, though Vance seemed not to care.

I couldn’t remember my father’s voice or face anymore, but I knew we used to read together from the Bible, as well as copies of the Declaration of Independence, which my father had considered the most beautiful writing ever created by human beings. Ever since the first seizures, letters swam in my vision. I could remember some of the words I had learned at my father’s knee but would never be able to recognize them on a page now.

“How much trouble are we in?” I asked Vance, trying to pull myself away from the allure of the smooth pages. “I know we’re supposed to be freeblood, and you’re supposed to be welcome here, but … Misha is freeblood, and even I could tell the trainer was going for blood when he spoke to you.”

“We are in …” Vance trailed off. “I have no idea how much trouble we are in. I wish I could tell you that anything they say is a lie, but that’s not true. In fact, I’m not sure how often they actually lie outright. It’s one of the most frightening things about them.”

The door behind us opened and a tall, broad-shouldered vampire entered. Jaguar. I had never met this trainer before, but I recognized him from stories I had heard. His black hair was bound back, but it was still visibly longer than mine, and his features spoke of his heritage among both Europeans and the Azteka.

He ignored me at first, but greeted Vance with a smile and an outstretched hand. “Vance, welcome home.”

Vance flinched as he shook Jaguar’s hand. “It’s not home anymore,” he replied.

Jaguar appeared skeptical but did not press the issue. The obvious dismissal was perhaps more of a challenge than any words could be.

“You’ve come to us to make a deal, I hear?”

“I thought you were busy,” I said, hoping to interrupt Jaguar’s focus on Vance. “A new … project.” I had a feeling
I knew what that meant for him, which was why I almost couldn’t get the word out.

Jaguar confirmed my suspicions immediately, saying, “Hardly a project worth mentioning, it turns out. I’ll have an empty cell again in days.” He spoke as if he were talking about an animal, not a man or woman.

“We’re waiting for Gabriel and … Jeshickah,” Vance asserted, cutting in. I could tell it took a conscious effort to say the Mistress of Midnight’s name without a title. The slip made Jaguar laugh.

“Work on that one,” Jaguar suggested, still smiling. “But not today, while you stand in her library. She’s more apt to deal when a man shows respect. Kadee, would you like a tour while Vance deals with the gritty details of trading flesh? I have no patience for such negotiations myself.”

“No,” Vance replied, while I was still wondering how Jaguar knew my name. “She’ll stay with me.”

“You’d rather keep her in a room with Jeshickah, Gabriel, Taro, and Nathaniel as you discuss someone’s price than let me show her around the building?”

Taro was another trainer, and the closest thing to a father that Vance had ever had. Nathaniel was one of Midnight’s mercenaries. It made sense that they would all be present, but I couldn’t help but feel that this was a lot of show for little old us.

“I’d like to stay, thanks,” I replied. It was a lie, and surely everyone in the room knew it. I didn’t want to be
alone with any of these creatures, but I refused to leave Vance alone with them either.

“It’s decided, then,” Vance said.

“Your choice,” Jaguar confirmed as he sat, propping his feet up on a second chair.

It wasn’t long before the others joined us.

Taro was a tall, slender man with nutmeg-colored skin and blond hair, which he wore long and pulled back. When he walked in, he greeted Vance with a smile and ruffled his hair affectionately. Vance tensed at the gesture as if it were a slap.

I was sure Taro
noticed;
he was a trainer, after all. The question was whether he had predicted that Vance would react that way, and chose to do it anyway, or if he had forgotten that Vance wasn’t the same trusting, dependent child he had raised until recently.

When Taro turned away to confer with Jaguar in quiet tones, I caught Vance staring longingly at him for just a moment before he dropped his gaze and carefully composed himself.

Gabriel joined us next, cleaned of blood and impeccably dressed once more. “Ashley” trailed after him, carrying a tray that included sweet biscuits and tea, as if we were all here for an afternoon social.

While I had wondered about Taro’s motives, I had no doubt about Gabriel’s when he said to her, “Thank you, beautiful. Scribe the meeting for us, would you?”

She nodded, and replied too softly for me to hear. He had phrased it as a request, but it obviously wasn’t, and she returned with writing tools before the next vampire entered the room.

Nathaniel was the one who had bought Misha and Shkei from Julian Cobriana last year before they would have been executed. I wasn’t sure if I hated him or was grateful to him for that.

It was irrelevant. Even I knew you shouldn’t show either of those emotions to a mercenary.

Unsurprisingly, Jeshickah joined us last.

The last time I had seen her, she had been worn, pale, tired, and angry as she dealt with the plague that had already killed a score of humans and rendered all the other trainers unconscious. Now, fully recovered, she was stunning.

She seemed to be dressed for horseback, in clothes that blended female sensuality and fashion with men’s practicality—breeches and boots under a snug, emerald-green riding coat that momentarily threw me back ten years, because it was a
human
fashion, and would have been normal in a human town if it had been matched with a proper skirt and shirt.

I knew that vampires often appeared more human—more
normal
—than serpiente and other shapeshifters, but I couldn’t help expecting them to look bizarre and frightening. Instead, the sight of all these individuals together made
the eye want to linger, even while every instinct said to run. I did not doubt that Jeshickah had picked her trainers for their talents, but I was also sure she applied the same critical gaze to their looks as well.

When Jeshickah entered, Ashley went to her knees. Jeshickah’s gaze fell on Vance, and I saw the tension thrum through him and I wondered how they had taught him these habits that he was physically fighting not to obey. Had they beaten him, in this place? If they had, how could he possibly long to return to it? I wanted to reach for him, or say something,
anything
comforting, but didn’t dare.

“The prodigal son returns,” Jeshickah said. Was that a slight smile on her face? It was hard to read her expression when I was afraid to meet her gaze. “And he brings a friend. Kadee Obsidian, I see you’re following the path of your masters as well. How is my Farrell these days?”

Was there any acceptable way to answer that question? I didn’t owe these creatures any explanation for my behavior. But I was sure she knew that, just as she knew that Farrell Obsidian may have started our guild, and been accepted as its leader, but that didn’t mean he owned or ruled those within it.

“I don’t know,” I replied, trying to keep my voice neutral. “We haven’t seen him since we left to speak to the Shantel. Do you want to deal, or play games?”

“They’ll do both if you let them,” Nathaniel said drily.
“Trainers can’t help playing any more than a spider can resist running toward a tapped string.”

Jeshickah gestured, and a young man who had been standing as silent as a shadow in the back of the room appeared and poured the tea. The others ignored him, but I couldn’t resist watching as he first prepared Jeshickah’s tea with honey and cream, and then poured cups for Taro and Gabriel before looking to me and Vance questioningly. He was probably close to my age. His fair skin made me wonder if he had ever seen the sun.

“Tea, Kadee?” Taro prompted softly, as if I had been asked once before.

I was cold and the honey looked good. Was that kind of reasoning the path to damnation? I nodded, and the nameless slave stepped forward to make the wordless desire a reality.

Vance declined tea, and then Jeshickah commanded, “Tell us everything you saw among the Shantel.”

Over the next hour or so, I discovered that a few phrases have an intrinsically terrifying connotation when spoken in the right tone by a trainer. They were, in no particular order:

“Oh, really?”

“I see.”

And, of course, “I believe that
you
believe that.”

The last one was particularly unsettling. It came after
my assertion that I had been partially raised by the Shantel, and I was confident that they were telling the truth when they said that the Shantel were trying to respond to Midnight’s demands, but their magic was interfering.

I believe that you believe that
. In other words, Jeshickah didn’t think I was lying—for which I was grateful, since getting caught lying to these people would be a very bad idea—but still thought the Shantel might be.

Since I had wondered about that myself, it was a struggle not to squirm.

Vance and I described the argument among the royal house, and even that the serpiente royal party had also been turned back from Shantel land. Without needing to discuss it, we did not share the fact that the sakkri and the prince were having an affair, or the conversation we had with Aaron. Vance detailed his experience when he first tried to leave on his own, and then how he had tricked Shane and the forest in order to get it to release us.

“You bluffed an immortal, ancient power capable of defying even natural laws of space and time?” Nathaniel paraphrased.

“It responds to the royal house,” Vance replied. “If the prince can be fooled, then it can be, too.”

“I see.” Which, in that context, obviously meant,
You’re lying. I know it. Do you know it?

Was
Vance lying? Would he have gone through with his threat if the forest hadn’t released us?

Defensively, Vance added, “I owe more loyalty to Kadee than I do to the Shantel royal house.”

“Naturally,” Jaguar replied, studying me in a way that made my skin crawl. I had a feeling that Vance had just handed them a weapon, and it was me.

“To summarize,” Jeshickah said, “the Shantel propose to offer one younger prince, with no expectations and no magical training, as full compensation for their treason.”

Why did she look at me when she said that, and not Vance? Did I appear the weaker one in our pair?

Probably. I tried to gather my wits, though. “Shane does have some magical ability.” I was thinking of his empathy, though how that could benefit Midnight, I had no idea.

“Oh?” Jeshickah leaned back in her chair, showing polite attention but little interest. “It must be something spectacular if they think it is sufficient to buy their safety—especially since I am not yet convinced they even plan to follow through on this deal. What incentive do I have at this point to let them barter and whine at me? I gave them an opportunity to protect the freeblood status of their people, and they refused. At the moment, I am inclined to simply burn the forest, and take for my own anyone who makes it out alive.”

My whole body went cold at the thought. Could she
do
that?

Magically, I wasn’t sure. Legally …

I rallied once more, recalling what Shane had said to me
about why Midnight had never forced them to trade in flesh before. “If you do that,” I said, “you will lose all power you have over them.” My voice shook a little, but I forced myself to continue. “If you declare that every Shantel’s life is forfeit, and there is no way to barter or seek forgiveness, they will know the only way to protect themselves is to destroy you. You saw what one deathwitch was able to do. Do you want to force every Shantel who flees a burning forest to become a potential assassin? Or do you want an opportunity to make a profit?”

For a moment, as my heart pounded, I was proud of myself for standing up to the vampires. Then Jeshickah spoke.

“They would not be the first nation we have brought low,” she said, “and whose witches still attempt to needle us. Even Vance here has fought such a creature once, gallantly defending his mistress.” Her voice seemed to slice through me. I braced myself, certain the next words were going to be worse. “
If
we accept a deal with the Shantel, it will not be out of fear of retaliation, I promise you that.”

She paused, took a sip of her tea, then continued. Her gaze flickered from me to Vance as she said, “What we need to establish now is not how far I am willing to go, but how far
you
are. The Shantel offered you a deal, but you are right that their actions violated its terms. You owe them nothing. What is your intention moving forward?”

The last hour had been hell, but now I realized the hard part was just beginning. Jeshickah had suggested that she
might be willing to make a deal, but that meant she expected us to propose one. If Shane wasn’t sufficient, what were we willing to promise on the Shantels’ behalf?