Fire Kin (26 page)

Bryony
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The flares had come from farther away, I reminded myself as I bent closer to Aric's neck and urged him on. St. Giles was as protected as it could be. And Bryony could take care of herself. She'd told me so just a few hours earlier.

I couldn't let fear distract me from what was happening around me. What was most important in this moment and only this moment. Letting myself think much beyond that was a good way to end up dead.

I judged we were about halfway across the city when the pack of Beast Kind came tumbling out of a cross street to meet us. I tried to count them, but in the darkness, with some of them in wolf form and some in the huge and too-fast hybrid forms, it was too hard to keep track of them all. More of us than them. That was about all I needed to know.

I drew my sword. Their numbers didn't matter. Likely this was a skirmish. A diversion to keep us from getting to where we needed to be. So we would cut our way through and keep going. Beast Kind are fast but not as fast as galloping horses over anything more than a short distance. I moved my sword to give the signal that we were to keep moving and heard the rasp of steel around me as the men drew closer in behind me.

The Beast Kind howled at us and started to close and I decided that I could speed up our task. I sent a line of fire arcing toward them across the cobblestones and then a second. The fire sprang up in two walls, obedient to my will, burning fiercely, hotter than normal fire. It must have caught a Beast or two in its path, because some of the howls changed in tone to pain and outrage rather than challenge. I heard the slithering swish of arrows from behind me and smiled grimly as I leaned forward. I trusted the aim of my archers but didn't need to make myself any more of a target than I had to.

Between the twin walls of fire, there was a path for us to travel two abreast without singeing the horses. I gave another signal and reined Aric back so that he slowed. I needed to hold the fire and be ready with a second attack if necessary. Which meant I needed to be able to see what was going on. The men started to flow past me, swords slashing at the Beasts brave enough to leap at them through the flames.

My men cut them down with ruthless efficiency, though I saw one man—I couldn't tell who in the weird orange and yellow light—dragged down from his saddle. Rage flared within me.

I was a soldier, yes, a general of a sort even, but I didn't like losing even a single man.

I sent more power into the fire, flaring it hotter and higher, then turned my attention to sending some of the sparks leaping from its depths and coaxing them to brighten and flare into fireballs to rain down on the Beasts.

More howls sounded and I nodded in satisfaction. Ahead, the men had reached the end of the fire's path and I could see the first of them urging their horses to more speed. Which meant it was time for those of us bringing up the rear to do just that.

“Forward,” I bellowed to the men still with me, and Aric took off as though I'd lit a fireball under his tail.

He ran as though both Beast Kind and flames were chasing him, ran faster than I had ever known him to run. Maybe he could feel the urgency pounding through my veins or maybe he was truly scared, but I urged him on, careless of the fact that I had overtaken most of the patrol again.

We were closer now, so close I could hear the sounds of fighting ahead and cries and screams that told me there were people other than soldiers caught up in the attack. The hot, harsh breath of smoke started to fill the air and I sent my power ahead of me, trying to feel for the source of the fire to see whether or not I could quell it.

Maybe that was why I didn't see the net until Aric suddenly reared, squealing a protest, and I, caught off guard, tumbled from his back and hit the cobbles with a bone-jolting thud that stole half the breath from my body. I rolled into a ball, all too aware that there was a full squad of men thundering toward me and not wanting to become so much flattened meat on the road.

But before I had time to worry about that, I was surrounded, tall, white-haired forms coalescing out of the shadows, swords and guns in their hands.

Blood.

What in the seven hells?

It was only then that I noticed how dark it was.

No sunlamps.

Fuck.

It was just about the only thought in my mind.

Fuck and how stupid I had been to let myself get caught up in battle fever like a rank novice. The feeling only intensified as another net was tossed on top of me and I felt the burn of iron.

I rose to my knees, struggling to throw off the net. It tightened against me as I fought it, apparently glamoured to bind me. The iron sapped my strength so that I couldn't blast the spell into splinters. As I thrashed, one of the Blood let off a shot that sparked the cobbles in front of me. A chip of stone gashed my cheek, slicing through skin like the sharpest of Fae blades. Blood began to drip down my face. I froze, not wanting a second bullet to hit me.

Double fuck.

That was all I needed. Fresh blood scenting the air when I was surrounded by vampires and bound with iron.

Though in this situation I doubted they would stop to drink from me. No, they were more likely to just kill me and be on their way.

It occurred to me that they could have done just that already. I didn't dare turn to see where the rest of the patrol was. I could hear the clash of swords and hooves dancing on cobblestones and men shouting behind me. So there were other enemies out there in the darkness. Beasts or Blood, fighting my men.

The sounds of combat grew louder. No one was coming to my rescue just yet. That much was clear.

But I was still alive.

I could rescue myself if I started to use my head. Figure out how to break the binding on the net.

I took a breath. Slowed it. Breathed it out. Drew another in. Felt the calm start to rise within me despite the pain from the iron. My magic was a mere spark now. Not enough to do anything useful like set the Blood surrounding me on fire but maybe enough to free me of the net eventually. I set one part of my brain to trying to study the magic spelling the net through the fog of the iron. By some small mercy of the Lady, none of the net was actually touching bare flesh, which was probably why I was able to do even that much.

Then I looked up at the Blood who'd fired the gun. “What do you want?”

The man—he was shorter than some of the others, but apart from that and the odd red-brown shade of his eyes—he looked much like any other vampire. White skin, white hair held out of his eyes with a dark metal band. Gleaming fangs visible in his mouth where he smiled nastily down at me. “Who says I want anything, Captain Pellar?”

He knew who I was. That was worrying. Had this trap been set for me in particular or was he just lucky that I had stumbled into it? I studied him as I tried to think of the right response. He hadn't deferred my question to anyone else. So I assumed he was in charge, at least of this particular attack. “If you didn't want anything, I'd be dead.” I allowed myself a shrug. “I'm still here.”

I let my gaze stray a little from the ringleader, trying to count the Blood surrounding me. Eight that I could see. There could be more in the darkness, of course, beyond my immediate range of vision, drawing the shadows around themselves to hide from view. I had no way to tell. So, even if I got free, I would be alone and on foot with Lady knew how many Blood and Beasts lurking in the darkness. So I needed to use my head. Do this the smart way.

Easier if my head wasn't throbbing like a bastard from the iron wrapped around me.

“Presumptuous,” the Blood said after a long moment.

I shrugged again. In my experience, angry enemies are often foolish ones. Anger was what had let Stellan down in the end, after all, and he wasn't the only one who had fallen to that particular weakness. “Just stating facts.”

He stared down at me. “You have no idea of the facts of this situation.”

“No? Care to enlighten me?” I wondered who he was. He seemed perfectly calm even though, if he knew who I was—and I wondered exactly how he did so—he presumably also knew what my powers were and that I could set him on fire where he stood.

So he was used to danger and facing enemies and staying cool while doing so. Well, that could describe any member of the Blood Court—the Blood played politics for even more deadly stakes than the Fae did and didn't turn a hair at murder, assassination, torture, or other gruesome means of achieving their ends. But still, something about him made me think that he was used to command.

Perhaps not completely seasoned like Guy or Father Cho or me, but he held himself in a way that was familiar. Confident of being obeyed.

One of Ignatius Grey's lieutenants?

It seemed likely.

I should've asked whether the Templars had thought to have drawings made of any of the Blood. Holly and Fen and Lily had all spent time in the Blood Assemblies where the Blood had mixed with the human Nightseekers—Lily in the very warrens themselves—and surely they could've provided descriptions for someone to base a likeness on. Then again, I should've done a lot of things. Like not gotten caught in the first place. I took another long breath, steeling my mind to ignore the pain of the iron once more.

“Well?” I asked again when he didn't answer me.

One of the other Blood made a snarling noise, aiming his gun at my head. The vampire before me turned his head, eyes narrowed, and the one with the gun shrank back, ducking his head.

Fearful.

Which told me that this was maybe more than a lieutenant. Maybe this was Ignatius Grey himself. And now I had an even stronger regret that I hadn't seen a picture of him.

I hadn't been expecting a face-to-face confrontation quite so soon, of course.

And I'd been hoping that the balance of power when we did finally meet would be different than it was right now.

Should I take him out if I got the chance? I could if I got free of this bloody net. I could use fire and burn all eight of them where they stood. But again, without knowing how many more were out there, doing so meant being willing to sacrifice my own life.

Once I was dead, the fire would go out. And a vampire can heal burns, so it was possible he might survive.

And I didn't know if this was Ignatius Grey and therefore a target worth sacrificing myself for.

So I stared up at maybe-Ignatius and waited for him to speak, wondering how the hell I was going to get out of this.

I didn't know what had happened to the few soldiers who had been with me, could only hope futilely that they had gotten away. The ones who had already passed through the flames would be heading toward the main action. And the ones Rhian had led would be no help. Rhian was too well trained to let them turn back if they thought there was trouble behind. They had orders to carry out, and she would see that they did so.

Too well trained by me.

Right now I regretted that decision more than a little.

Ignatius—I was going to call him that for now—still studied me as if he could see into my soul. Maybe he could. Or maybe he could read the future around me like a seer—not that I'd ever heard of a Blood seer. Or maybe he was just trying to intimidate me.

Well, if that was his game I wasn't going to let him see that he had even the slightest impact on me.

“These cobblestones are hard,” I said, using my best bored-beyond-tears voice that I used on recalcitrant clients. “Is there a point to this encounter?” If this was indeed Ignatius, then one thing he was used to was bowing and scraping. Maybe I could annoy him into making a mistake.

“They said you were arrogant,” Ignatius said.

They? Who were they?

“Indeed?” I maintained my bored tone.

“Yes.” He tapped a hand against the sword hilt at his hip, and a chill of fear sank through my stomach.

I ignored it, tightening my focus on the vampire. “And that's a bad thing, I assume?”

“Arrogance is acceptable in its place,” Ignatius said. His fingers curled around the sword hilt, and the blade was suddenly glinting in the flames, its point a few inches in front of my throat.

Fast. Damn fast.

Fuck.

“Bound by iron and kneeling in the dirt before your superior is not that place, however.” The point came a little closer. I kept my eyes on his face.

“You may have a point,” I said. “But that doesn't change the fact that my knees are sore.” There was no part of me that didn't hurt, but I wasn't going to let him know that.

“Do you think I care about you?” he hissed. The sword jerked, the point sliding across my cheek, on the other side of the cut from the stone.

The cut stung like acid, and drops of blood pattered down onto the cobblestones. I ignored the pain—it was hardly the worst wound I'd ever suffered—and stared up at the man who'd inflicted it. “This is a lot of trouble to catch me if you don't.”

“There are those who are interested in you. In your continued existence or lack thereof. You have a certain value.”

I was starting to get an idea of exactly who Ignatius might have been talking to.

If there was anyone in the world who wanted me dead, it was Salvia and her faction in the court. Particularly after today.

Though she must have spoken to Ignatius before today, as there was no way she had gotten a message back to the City ahead of me. There had been no other traffic on the road from Summerdale. Coming or going. Unless, of course, they'd worked out some other means of communication.

“Interesting. So I'm your hostage?”

“No. You're a way of getting something I want.”

The chill in my stomach deepened. What had Salvia promised Ignatius? I was growing more certain that this was him. If it was indeed Salvia making devil's pacts with the Blood, and not some other group of enemies that I didn't even know existed, then I was fairly certain this wasn't going to end well. She didn't want me buried in a dungeon somewhere—she wanted me out of the picture. Permanently. The question was whether Ignatius would play along with her plan or he had his own ideas of how he could use me.