Wrath and Bones (65 page)

I had
soooooo
much to say.

Harry reached for my arm but he needn’t have bothered. I saw Wilhelm sweep forward and I didn’t move a muscle; it was not my place to speak for my house, despite the offer that Remy had just made. I demurred to my prince. For now.

Wilhelm smiled, flashing fang. “Revenge, such a petty emotion, best left to small, imperfect creatures... like this one.” He plucked the leather jacket scrap out of the DaySitter’s hand. Sayomi flushed bright red. “Humans. How terribly childish they can be.”

Sarokhanian moved a step closer to his DaySitter. “Are you accusing my advocate of inventing a situation—“

“We all know that Mr. Batten is the grandson of Colonel Jack Batten, with whom you have had a prior personal quarrel, yes? Let us not be coy. It’s a shame, but you’re right; it is a very valuable lesson to us all. Human beings are food, and it does not hurt to remind them of their place. It’s unfortunate that one’s mortal company cannot be kept safe from a foreign, thirsting fang…” He let that settle in, casting an openly hungry eye down on Sayomi, who may or may not have been trying to quell some sexy inner response to that gaze. “But I think our queen will agree that if one house’s friends are not safe on Svikheimslending, then no mortal vein is safe.”

A threat. Borderline, but I liked the feeling of uncertainty and near-panic it caused in Sarokhanian’s DaySitter. She looked up at Aston, wordlessly demanding that her master defend her. Alas, when you ride with the devil, you are never assured a smooth ride. Not that I'd actually fucked Him, or Asmodeus, but Azzy's angelic visage certainly had its private-time moments. I almost imagined I could hear Him chuckling through the Bond.

Remy said nothing for a long beat. She watched the two houses stand off. Wilhelm dropped the torn jacket on the marble like it and the mortal it belonged to meant nothing to him, and left it there between them. It flapped open to reveal an ominous, dark stain and released a small stake from a torn sheath. It rolled noisily across the marble. I tore my gaze from it immediately.

“Perhaps you should have protected him better,” Sarokhanian suggested.

Wilhelm’s smile broadened. “No matter how closely we watch them, your Grace, there will always be opportunities when our precious ones are alone and vulnerable. Accidents will happen.” It was a promise. Wilhelm’s dominance was in question, and regardless of Batten’s misbehavior and betrayal, Wilhelm would come out on top.

Remy waved them back to their own seats, contemplating the situation, staring at the torn piece of jacket as she did so.

The queen finally spoke, and all eyes swung to her. “Where is the hunter now?”

The corner of Aston Sarokhanian’s mouth curled up in an ugly smile and he crooked two fingers behind him at his banner. I heard the distinctive clink of buckles that preceded Gunther Folkenflik in his straightjacket. It was splattered with a startling diagonal spray of dried blood that had not been there the last time I saw him. His face was unblemished, but this meant nothing; the lycanthropy coursing through his veins would heal any minor injury fairly quickly.  

Folkenflik approached the throne, chewing his bottom lip over and over, his nervous tics getting the best of him; I knew Batten would not have attacked Folkenflik unless he’d been set upon first. Mark had nothing against the werefox, and saw him as a reluctant Second, just as he was.

Behind Folkenflik, under the banner, a noisy struggle broke out as several members of House Sarokhanian dragged a resisting figure forward. My heart lurched when I saw Batten’s dark head bowed but his body unbroken, his heels digging at the marble, his jeans torn open at the upper thigh like something had chewed its way to his femoral artery and then, upon seeing thick, knotted, possessive scars, changed course to a more available vein. His black t-shirt hung open over the hash marks on his left pectoral; a hundred eight, one for every kill. One had been added in a cruel slice that opened his flesh in a flap. It still drooled blood. Every revenant mouth that had not already been filling with saliva did so now as the scent of fresh spilled blood stirred them.

Harry pulled up an internal wall and blocked his feelings through the Bond, effectively cutting me off from the rest of the house. I suspected this was as much to block them from my distress as it was to hide what the house was feeling from me. They had to do something.
Do something
, I willed to anyone willing to listen. I would have given almost anything to feel the reassuring brush of Wilhelm’s voice through my brain cells then, with promises that everything would work out.

Batten scraped to a halt between two young revenants who dropped him unceremoniously on the marble; he struggled to hold himself up on shaking arms. 

“You have been accused of attacking House Sarokhanian, vampire hunter. What do you have to say in your own defense?”

Batten lifted his stubborn chin and stared directly into her eyes. Challenging.

Furious, I clenched my hands until they shook and felt my leather gloves creak. I had to say something; the need to yell at him was almost unbearable.

Remy leaned forward. “Nothing? Not a word to help me decide your fate? What should be done with you?” Remy wondered to Batten aloud.

Her command was in question; anyone else might have felt pressure to prove herself and secure her command, but this was the Duchess of the Darkest Corner, and she had just singlehandedly scared off the troll scout and his entire ship of cohorts. She mused, tapping one finger against her lips in thought, “What should be done?”

Batten spoke up, “House Sarokhanian mentioned my attack, but not staking Stefan.” He sat a bit straighter so he could look down at the slash that had mangled his pretty black kill-notch tattoos on his chest.

Was he insane? Did he want to die? I glanced at the ceiling again and the missing rowan wood stakes, the empty silver chains. Had he been in here, alone with stakes, and my Harry frozen as a statue among the others? All those revenants at his mercy. Had they been unguarded? How had he managed it without help? My blood ran cold.

Remy laughed then, a sudden explosion of surprise and delight. “You are fearless in the face of death, then, and I respect that. You crave revenge. I can taste it. I understand that, too. I have no love of the
Falskaar Vouras
. They have done nothing to endear themselves to me, vampire hunter.  They all have their petty alliances and bickerings, and I have never been a part of it. Truth be told, I’m not terribly upset about your incursion. My only question is: how far will your passion for vengeance push you into my reign? How many will you betray with your false faces? How many will you slay?”

Shut up, shut up, oh please shut up,
I willed him, begging the universe, the Goddess above, the Overlord below, whoever might listen. 

“As many as it takes,” Batten answered, “to empty that house. If I can take out Aston, I will. If I have to take out every other revenant beneath him, one by one, I’ll do that, too.”

Remy sat back in her throne, drumming her fingers on the blue-green arm of the chair. “That certainly makes the situation clearer. As you might expect, I cannot allow this. Raven of Night, what say you?”

Wilhelm stood, and the heavy black wings lifted from around his shoulders for a moment to stretch outward like a shelter. For that one second, even though I knew there was no way to do so, I was sure he would intercede. Instead, he showed her his empty palms, a gesture I recognized from watching Gary Chapel, meant to indicate
it's out of my hands; your call
. With that gesture, I felt like someone had stuck a pitchfork in my chest and scraped out any remaining hope I had there, leaving a mangled wreck. My knees felt weak.

Remy nodded once. “Mark Batten, servant of House Dreppenstedt, I find you guilty of murder, and declare your life forfeit on Svikheimslending. You will be drained to the point of death.”

“No!” I shouted, struggling to release my hand from Harry’s. He refused to let go; his iron grip was unshakable, and through it, I felt the cold demand of my companion. “This can’t--” I  broke off with a sob.

Remy continued as though she hadn’t heard me. “Raven of Night, Crowned Prince of House Dreppenstedt, the deed should fall to your house.”

Wilhelm took his time considering this. Stinging tears flooded my eyes. This wasn’t happening. They couldn’t. I shook with dismay and rage. How could Batten have done something so stupid? Where it was so unsafe? Was revenge worth dying for? He hadn’t even gotten close to Aston Sarokhanian? He’d picked off a Younger and been stopped. He’d wasted his life on a long shot.
You glorious fucking dumbass
.

“You can’t,” I told Wilhelm, as though I had any right to tell the prince of the house what to do. I heard the pleading crack in my voice, knew it was feeding Sarokhanian’s sadistic sense of enjoyment, and couldn’t stop myself. “You can’t! Please don’t. Take me instead. My queen, please, take me instead.”

“MJ!” Harry barked, eyes flashing with horror.

Declan choked, “Dr. B, no.”

“Stop them,” I begged. “I’ll do anything you want.”

“You will be silent this instant, DaySitter,” Harry demanded, shifting his gaze from me to Batten. “Your cold cook has brought this on himself and will reap his just rewards.”

Batten swallowed reflexively. “You’ve been waiting for this day,” he rasped, “vampire.”

Harry’s eyes bled past chrome to pure, airy platinum as he left my side, and I felt my own mouth water as Harry’s fangs extended. Leaving gentleman behind, Harry strode into the center of the room like the apex predator he was, padding softly in thousand-dollar Oxfords and pristine white spats. His motion was the only sound in the room now, a soft shuffle of cloth as he shed his cloak and let it flutter behind him on the marble. I moaned as I felt his hunger bubble to the surface.

“Please Harry,” I whispered. “Don’t do this.”
I can’t be here. I can’t see this
. I started desperately seeking an out, some way I could flee. Movement to my right preceded Declan making a shift to stand beside me, putting himself between me and the doors.

“Your life has been declared forfeit,” Harry said to Batten softly. “Having deceived all those who have supported you, having betrayed the trust of my beloved pet, having behaved in a most unfriendly manner toward all who have tolerated your presence here, do you see any reason why House Dreppenstedt should dispute this finding?”

“Deceived,” Batten spat blood. “Bullshit. Monsters like you can smell a lie a mile off. You knew exactly why I was here.”

Point: Batten
. I feared it would be his last.

Harry cocked his head and inspected him like one might a venomous spider in a jar, dangerous but trapped. “I expected you to control your urges, just as I expect you to control your tongue. Can you doubt it?”

Batten’s voice grew husky. “Fuck you, Fangface. Just do it.”

Harry’s pierced brow quirked up. “You dare suppose to command me in such an inexcusable manner? Look at yourself, lad. Look at where you are.” He indicated the room, the banners, and the crowded court room with a pale hand. “Are you in any position to make demands of me here? It pains me to point out: you are not in a land where human laws can protect you, now. And, by her decree, neither do ours.”

Batten’s head fell and he growled from inside the cover of his chest. “You’ve wanted me dead since the day we met.”

It was an unfair assessment that pissed me off, and Harry looked stricken by it, shying back a step. “Fearful liar. Hold your hateful, impudent tongue for once in your wretched life. Ever have I welcomed you into my pet’s company and tolerated your boorish and disgraceful comportment in my home, with more patience than should be expected of any immortal.” Having center stage, he appealed to his audience of undead creatures young and old, and their sympathies were palpable. “I daresay, it was enough to drive one perfectly mad, but I have soldiered on for the contentment of my favorite darling. She would have her pretty plaything…” Harry cast his gaze down at Batten once more. “And though he was an appalling thorn in my side, and against my better judgment, I reserved my objections. At last, for all my kindnesses, I am repaid with treachery and madness. What lunacy drove you to approach House Sarokhanian on Svikheimslending? To forget yourself in such a reprehensible manner when you are here on our good graces?”

Blood formed a bubble beneath Batten’s left nostril and he raised a shaking hand to swipe it clear. “Just. Do. It.”

“Would you have me skip past the shaming bit of your end, then, my cold cook?” Harry asked crisply. “You would deny me my last words. I see. Very well. As you would face death so eagerly…” Harry’s eyes blazed anew with hunger. “You shall have it.”  

I saw Batten’s shaking hand twitch on the marble and my eyes cut to the nearby stake. I didn’t even think; I was across the floor and diving for it before he could move. Harry could have made it faster than either of us with an eye-blurring strike, but he stood perfectly still and let his DaySitter move in his defense; I felt him swell with pleasure witnessing my loyalty.  I swiped the stake from the ground and rocketed back away from Batten so he couldn’t take it from me. My training kicked in when I saw him push off with his arms, launching to his feet. I anticipated the direction of his lunge and spun the opposite way, effortlessly dodging his swipe and readying myself for a repeat attack. Harry watched us with unconcerned eyes as the badly beaten vampire hunter stumbled ineffectively in my direction once more.

I sidestepped him too easily, throwing the stake to the ground where it rolled to a stop at Carole Jeanne’s feet. She stepped on it without reaction, grinding it under her navy shoe.

“Mark,” I said quietly, putting my body between him and Harry. “Stop.”

“Get away from me,” he said through his teeth.

I shook my head. “I need to know: how long have you been using me to get close to them?”

  Harry touched my elbow but I shook him off.

“You’re going to stand in my way?” Batten panted.