Iron Night (21 page)

I shook my head. “No, Suzume was there as a favor to me. She's my friend.” As much as that was the case, I'd met her extremely formidable grandmother, and had no doubt that the White Fox had at least tacitly given her approval for Suze's involvement.

“How interesting, Fortitude,” Madeline said, seeming to savor the words. “I'm very pleased. The kitsune are a valuable alliance, and it's good that you are making a strong connection where other of my children”—she sent a quick, slashing look toward Prudence—“have not.”

My sister continued stalking around the room but met Madeline's look with a glare of her own, clearly feeling and resenting our mother's dig. “The kitsune live in the territory under our sufferance. There is no need to beg for favors.”

“No?” Madeline asked, then dropped her voice to a low hiss, surprising me with its level of anger. “Had Fortitude encountered the skinwalker on his own, without a strong ally, I doubt we'd be getting this report.” Her blue eyes began to glow with the heat of her anger, reminding me of the Bunsen burners we'd used in high school chemistry. But as quickly as it had been revealed, Madeline pulled the anger inside again, banking and hiding it under her Betty White–esque exterior. But it was still there, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up in response. I noticed that Prudence had slowed her pacing, moving slower, more cautiously, in the wake of our mother's temper.

Chivalry had also flinched at our mother's words, but he must've agreed with them because the pupils of his eyes were expanding, swallowing the benign hazel with gleaming black, and he snapped, “It should never have been an issue to begin with.” He tugged at my elbow, leading me over to the sofa beside my mother. “Sit down and tell us what happened,” he said, fussing until I sat to the left of Madeline. He immediately sat on my left, leaving me sandwiched between them. He gave our sister a sharp look. “Stop pacing, Prudence.” She gave a small snarl at the order but obeyed, throwing herself into her favorite chair, a Louis XVI that creaked alarmingly at the sudden impact.

Everyone's eyes were on me now, waiting with varying levels of patience, and I took a deep breath and started talking. I began with the discovery of Gage's body and went from there—with one significant exception. I edited out Matt's presence entirely, instead claiming that Suze and I had found a glamoured Iron Needle promotional card while we'd been cleaning out Gage's bedroom and had simply investigated from there. Other than that I was honest about what had happened, including Lilah's involvement. Madeline and Chivalry both listened with frozen, intent expressions, but Prudence was clearly agitated by what I was saying. When I finished with the events of the evening, claiming that Soli had fled after Suzume had managed to cut her open enough to expose her nougaty center, Prudence couldn't restrain herself any longer. She exploded out of her chair and began stalking the room again, clearly enraged.

“This isn't the work of a moment,” she growled. “Months went into this that we did nothing. Others will see this and act accordingly.”

Madeline stayed focused on me and reached over to give me a small pat on my knee. “You've done very well, Fortitude,” she complimented me, then glanced over at Prudence. “This will be dealt with swiftly.”

Prudence ignored her. “Elves with some kind of plan, daring to bring the forbidden into our boundaries. The kitsune numbers are increasing. The witches are showing discontent. More movement among the lower creatures. Now a skinwalker at the heart of the territory.” She smacked the edge of the fireplace temperamentally, cracking one of the granite stones, and said to Madeline, “They sense your weakness, Mother.”

“This isn't the time for that, sister,” Chivalry said. “We need to focus on what is at hand.”

There was an intensity in the way that Madeline looked at Prudence, and the glitter of suppressed temper was back in her eyes, but she visibly restrained herself and, with deliberate blandness, said, “True enough.” Then she turned to me and lifted one thin, liver-spotted hand to cup my chin. “This was fine work, showing good instincts. You will continue this fine, fine work for me, my son. You will be assisted,” she glanced from Chivalry to Prudence, then back again, before hesitating a moment and then saying smoothly, “by your brother. But you, my darling, you will be in charge.” She smiled, and her upper lip pulled back enough to display her long, thoroughly impressive fangs that, unlike Prudence's and Chivalry's, were fixed in place and too large to retract. “And when you find this skinwalker, as well as those responsible for her presence, it will be by your command that your brother shows the consequences of defiance.”

There was a dreamy look in her eyes as she dwelled over the word
consequences
, and I knew that her thoughts were filled with blood and pain. I swallowed hard, but nodded like an obedient son. “Yes,” I agreed, then looked at Chivalry. There was a hesitance in his face that surprised me, and I nudged him, saying, “Chivalry?”

He looked startled for a second, then collected himself and the mixed feelings vanished as if they'd never been there. “Of course, Fort,” he said in his most reassuring voice. “You found something the rest of us had overlooked. It's right that you should continue to lead.”

That was the brother I knew, and I relaxed.

Prudence snarled loudly, her delicate fangs sliding out from their hiding places. She swept over in front of us and shoved Chivalry hard in the shoulder, knocking him back against the couch cushions. “Stop protecting him, brother. If Fortitude is to make adult decisions, then you can't keep wrapping him in wool.” Her blue eyes, gleaming with temper, slid over to focus on me. “Bhumika is in complete renal failure, Fortitude,” she said, and I flinched at the hard truth. “Her first dialysis is scheduled for tomorrow, along with a number of invasive and doubtless painful tests to determine candidacy for a transplant. The first time Chivalry left the hospital in three days was when you called him with the skinwalker information. And now he pretends to eagerly leave at your side.”

I looked at my brother, but he didn't deny what Prudence was saying. He simply looked back at me, his face set in unreadable lines. “Chivalry, what—”

Madeline interrupted me, her voice an iron bell that filled the room and made even Prudence look cautious. “And your motives, daughter? Do you offer Fort a true choice between you and Chivalry as assistance, or a false one?” She studied Prudence intensely and asked, “Will you follow your brother's commands as if they were mine? Can you do this?”

Prudence didn't answer at first, looking at me instead. When I met her eyes, I was surprised to see that the restless anger and irritation that I was so used to was missing, and instead there was something else. It wasn't aggressive, but seemed almost . . . curious. I was shaken as much by the change as if the rising sun had been purple. Prudence gave a short nod to our mother. “Yes.”

Madeline exhaled, long and thoughtful, those hard eyes examining my sister, weighing what she had just said. Then her attention shifted to me, and part of me shivered at her expression. I was being examined and considered as thoroughly as Prudence had been a moment ago, but I didn't have two centuries of starch in my spine to help me through it. It was a natural fear, I reminded myself, just like a bunny would feel when facing a saber-tooth tiger, and I did my best to hide it. After a moment Madeline gave a small nod and said, “Then there is a choice before you, my turtledove. Which of your siblings will go back to Providence with you?”

Chivalry gripped my hand, and I tore myself from Madeline's absorbing gaze to look back at my brother. There was clear worry on his face now as he glanced at our sister; while our mother might've accepted Prudence's words, Chivalry was clearly not as trusting. “It's fine, Fort. I can go with you,” he said, low and urgent. “Bhumika is getting the best care in the state right now, and she wouldn't be alone for a second.”

I hesitated. Everything inside me wanted to take the protection that Chivalry was offering, knowing that he would do everything in his power to shield me not just from the physical threats, but also from hard decisions. If Chivalry discovered Matt's involvement, he would hesitate to kill him—not out of a belief that Matt shouldn't die, but because he knew that the death would hurt me. Prudence wouldn't do that.

I also wanted to take Chivalry so that he could continue to do what he had done for most of my life, which was to stand as a barrier between me and my sister. My foster parents' blood was on her hands, and she'd been the one to teach me the harsh lesson of what could happen to humans who found themselves entwined in our shadowy world of secrets.

But as much as I wanted those things, I also wondered how much it would cost Chivalry to leave Bhumika right now. She was dying, and nothing the doctors could do would stop that—she'd been dying from the moment that she'd married my brother five years ago, and he'd spent each day of those years cherishing the time they were together, knowing all too well that it would end like this.

I wished deeply that I could make the decision I would've made a year ago. But I'd changed since then, and that it was time to be adult enough to, for the first time, protect my brother. “No, it's okay,” I told him, squeezing his hands with completely false reassurance. I looked over at our sister. “I'll take Prudence.”

No one spoke at first, but everyone was looking at me, assessing the decision, weighing what this meant in the strange dynamics of the family. Finally Madeline nodded. “Very well,” she said. She leaned forward, brushing a finger against my bruised cheek, and looked me over, her eyes seeming to catalog every injury, even those hidden by my clothes. She gave a small
tsk
of her tongue. “This is a deadly opponent, my son, and the elves have always had the loyalty of serpents. You will need to be a very wary little mongoose indeed, and a strong one.” She pushed the cuff of her sleeve back and drew her thumbnail slowly across her wrist, making a short cut. Blood welled up sluggishly, thicker than a human's would've been, and much darker. She held the wrist up in front of my face. “Feed.”

Craving rushed through me, but I hesitated, resting my hand against the middle of her forearm to keep her from pressing her wrist any closer. “I fed last week, Mother. It's too soon.”

Chivalry put one hand on my shoulder, patting me soothingly. “She's right, Fort,” he said. I still hesitated, but his hand moved to the back of my neck, not pushing but just gently guiding me forward. I gave in then, and I dropped my head willingly and drank. My mother's blood was thick, and I had to suck hard to get it into my mouth, where it seemed to sizzle on my tongue, and I shuddered as I felt the path of each drop down my throat and into my body. I was dimly aware of Chivalry removing his hand, but then the rush and excitement of my mother's blood, hinting at strength I couldn't even dream of, washed over me and the rest of the room dimmed, my world tightening around me until all that existed was my mother's wrist and my own mouth.

Feeding was always like this, but suddenly the memory of pulling Matt, unconscious and bleeding, toward me flashed in my mind, and fear lit my brain back up as I wondered whether that was the future that waited for me on the other side of transition—more than twenty years of a surrogate uncle's love disappearing in a wave of hunger that wiped away all identity and ties. I pulled my head back sharply, away from Madeline's wrist. She let me go, as she always had in times like this, but then another hand shot forward, grabbing my hair and forcing me back down to the blood.

It was Prudence's voice, hard and determined, that said, “None of that squeamishness, baby brother. This task does not call for weakness.”

I pushed back, trying to get away, but she was older and stronger than I was, and neither Madeline nor Chivalry spoke or interfered with what she was doing. I was unable to resist the blood when it was right at my mouth and I continued to drink, long after I would normally have stopped, Prudence's hand remaining, inescapable, determined that I would drink to her satisfaction. I was completely full when Prudence's hand finally relaxed and let me up. It took me a few blinks to adjust to the room again, and I felt shaky, both from nerves and the rush of energy and excitement that bubbled up inside me.

The blood that remained at the surface of Madeline's wrist sank back inside her, and the cut tied itself together as I watched. But as she pushed her sleeve back down I noticed that she was shaking and somehow seemed smaller, weaker, diminished even, her face almost gray as she seemed to crumple up inside, looking suddenly as tiny and harmless as a truly human old woman. Chivalry reached past me, stretching out one hand to steady her, but in a sudden flash the old woman was gone and Madeline whipped her head around, those lips drawn back to reveal her fangs in a clear threat, her blue eyes bright enough to cast their own glow in the room. Chivalry's hand froze, then wrapped quickly around my shoulder instead, giving me one small tug toward him, away from my mother. Then she blinked and the glow was gone and her mouth relaxed, once again hiding what she was.

I was stunned and confused. “Mother? Are you . . . okay?” It felt strange asking the question or even letting it flicker my mind as a serious consideration. She was infinitely more powerful than I was, had spent centuries reigning as the dominant power on the entire Eastern seaboard, but I found myself asking it anyway.

Madeline pulled herself upright and waved one hand like a grumpy senior. “Go, Fortitude. Bring me back the true head of the skinwalker.” Despite the tremors still running through her, she gave a very hard, extremely bloodthirsty smile that left no doubt in anyone's mind who we were dealing with. “I have a space on my wall that needs a change in décor.”