He tried to clarify that Daryl was dead in a way that meant he wouldn’t be walking around anymore, as opposed to dead in the way of a vampire, but the cat bit him hard on the leg to close the subject and then decided to fix the problem by climbing the stairs, standing up with its front paws against the door, and yowling, screaming, at the top of its lungs, Open this door!
We need the key, Jay tried to explain.
What is this key thing you’re obsessed about? it snapped back. Leave the key. I don’t care about the key. Tell them to open the door! They don’t listen to me.
Tell them to open the door? Jay asked, feeling more than a little stupid.
Yes! the cat said, adding an angry hiss.
Jay climbed the stairs once more and knocked on the slick wooden door. At first, he received no response, which in some ways made him feel better. Maybe the door did open on this side, and he hadn’t been incredibly stupid. At the cat’s demands, he tried a second time, and was rewarded by rustling on the other side, followed by the snick of a lock being turned, followed by …
Need.
His eyes saw a human being, but his empathy showed nothing but a raw, hungry emptiness. Jay nearly fell backward as he was struck by the intensity of hunger, thirst, and exhaustion.
The cat stood on its back legs in order to bump its head against the playtime slave’s hand, but the human stumbled and nearly fell at the pressure. He was trying to stay standing, because he wasn’t supposed to fall down, but he was so very tired.
Cat, playtime slave needs food and water, Jay said.
Needs to play!
Later! Jay snapped back, making the cat hiss at him again.
Stupid slave.
The cat stalked off.
“Hello,” Jay said. “Is anyone else up here waiting for something to eat?”
The slave answered with a hoarse voice, “There are others.”
“Go downstairs to the kitchen,” Jay said. “Get yourself something to eat and drink while I find the others. Can you make it down the stairs on your own?”
The slave hesitated, and then nodded. His mind was so odd, nearly empty. Despite his awareness of his physical needs—he probably hadn’t eaten since Pet had been thrown out, more than twenty-four hours ago—he had no inclination to alleviate his own suffering. He had been able to open the door that would allow him into the kitchen this whole time, but hadn’t done so until someone had knocked.
Slaves, Cat told him. Not human people.
Everyone is a slave to a cat, Jay commented.
Every person is a slave to a cat, Cat agreed, but these are different. They don’t have people-thoughts anymore. Only slave-thoughts. They don’t play when they want to play and sleep when they want to sleep. They don’t want anything.
Jay wanted to argue, but Cat was right. His empathy sought impulses and images, wants and feelings, more than thoughts. These poor creatures didn’t have impulses anymore. All independent, self-aware thought had been stripped from them.
Humans had enslaved humans, but they had never been able to destroy each other’s minds and spirits the way a vampiric trainer could. No wonder Rikai had been so certain a slave couldn’t be unbroken.
Maybe the Shantel elemental knew a way.
Maybe Rikai had been wrong; maybe the elemental even knew a way to destroy the new Midnight. Looking at these poor, destroyed creatures, Jay’s determination to fight that sick empire burned even hotter.
First, though, he needed to get out of here. Before he could do that, he needed to know who else knew he was here. If Brina had come for him without mentioning her intent to others of her kind, Jay could probably kill her without anyone else ever knowing she had claimed him. If she had told someone else in Midnight, however, they might pursue that claim once Brina was dead—and then, Jay suspected, he would end up in a trainer’s hands.
Against Brina, he was confident of his fighting abilities, but Midnight’s trainers had been known to take witches who had come to kill them, snap their minds like kindling, and send them back to kill their own kin. If Jay had to face one of them, he wanted backup—not to be locked in a house with doors that wouldn’t open, and windows that might or might not break.
It was time to talk to Brina.
A quick search made it clear that Brina wasn’t on the second floor but did reveal yet another staircase, leading to an elegant set of French doors, which swung open easily when Jay tried them.
Brina’s studio took his breath away—literally. Jay’s eyes instantly watered in response to the fumes. He was glad he was hardier than a human.
The entire floor was a single room, with only a few columns to interrupt the flow. Large windows and skylights, some curtained and some open, would allow sunlight to stream into the room during the day.
He started to explore but didn’t get far before he found the mistress of the house sprawled beneath a canvas in a pool of black paint. His first thought was that she had recently been suicidal, and it was possible that she may have figured out a more effective method to use than hanging.
Would he get blamed for that?
If he could get out—
Brina stirred, and some power within or around her assaulted him with a blast of pure fury and anguish that made his vision blacken and sent him to his hands and knees, retching.
A second blow made him shake and start to crawl to her side. God, the pain …
Another blast, and he realized the anger he was feeling was being channeled through Brina, but it wasn’t from her. It was someone, something else. Something powerful.
It hit him again, and he collapsed on top of Brina, who was now whispering softly to herself. She was only semiconscious at most, and wasn’t speaking English. Jay thought the words were French, but her thoughts were completely lost behind the power that was latched on to her, tearing at her, draining her in an effort to preserve itself.
The last time he had tried to help a damsel in distress, it had ended with him dragged to Brina’s home as a slave. He tried to consider this situation a little more carefully, but he couldn’t consider, couldn’t think with so much noise. He fought to craft a bubble of protective power around them, struggling as each new blow made his whole body ache.
Please, just make it stop.
Rage and flames. It took everything he had just to hold on to the shield he had built, and to Brina, as the magic punched and pulled at them, making the air thick and scalding. It became impossible to draw a breath. He shuddered as his vision blackened, and his skin seemed to char, and at last …
He was walking through the black woods again. The brambles were gone, replaced by ferns and graceful vines with deep purple flowers. Large felines of all colors—white, tan, russet, brown, and black, solid and spotted—stalked through the forest around him, their footfalls soundless on the rich brown soil.
A woman was standing before him. Her body was dark like a shadow in night itself, beyond even the ink-black skin of the Shantel witch, without the white markings.
“Mind-witch.” When she spoke, her voice was the rustling of the trees and the wind and the flowers. He needed no introduction to know he was standing before an avatar of the elemental that had once protected the Shantel.
“Are you the one attacking us now?” he asked.
“Attack you? Never. You freed my sakkri from her prison,” the elemental said. “And now you’ve called to me to ask for my protection. I am willing to grant it.”
“I called to you?”
“I felt your power. Do you wish me to protect you?”
“How would you protect me?” he asked.
“I will lend you my power. It will keep you safe when the fire withdraws.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you?” She looked up as if she heard something. “I am at battle, and I must return to it. Do you wish to live?”
“Of course I—”
“Then do you accept my aid? I can protect you, or I can end you now and spare your suffer
ing.”
“What is going on?”
“Choose now, witch. Do you accept my aid?”
He drew an uncertain breath, then said, “I want to live. If your aid is the only way to do that, then yes, I accept.”
“Very well.”
CHAPTER 16
THE HEAT WITHDREW abruptly, leaving him shivering in Brina’s studio. The deep blackness of the moonless evening seemed infinitely colder than it had been before.
Beneath him, Brina gasped. Her body was nearly convulsing in its struggles to warm itself. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and her heart pounded.
Wait … that wasn’t right.
Vampires’ hearts didn’t beat. They didn’t need to breathe, much less gasp.
“Brina?” he whispered.
Her eyes opened wide, and they were a brilliant, clear blue, no longer the pure black of a vampire.
“What has happened?” she asked with a trembling voice. She rose to her feet, then promptly fainted in his arms.
Jay could feel her heart pounding so quickly that he was worried it was going to burst. Could it? He had no idea how much strain was suddenly on her body.
He barked orders to the other slaves on his way out of Brina’s studio, commanding them to take care of themselves until he returned. He didn’t dare take them to SingleEarth yet. He didn’t know how to save them, and didn’t want to endanger anyone else through yet another impulsive action.
Maybe Brina could help him help them, after she recovered. She had to know more about Midnight than anyone but a vampire could possibly know.
What is she now?
Why am I trying to save her?
Mine! the cat objected, when Jay carried Brina down the stairs. He prayed as he reached for the door, and was relieved when it opened without resistance, probably cued to Brina’s needs. The cat followed them both out into the snow, keeping up a litany of complaints about the snow, the cold, and why Brina and Jay were ignoring him. It was doubly offended when Jay wouldn’t let it into the car.
Jay settled Brina’s unconscious body into a calmer state before driving as quickly as he sanely could back to Haven #2.
She will wake up eventually. What are you going to do with her then?
What would have happened if he hadn’t interfered? Would Brina be dead now? How many others had this happened to? Brina hadn’t felt like the elemental’s primary focus. For all Jay knew, the trainers had just been wiped from the map.
Could ending Midnight be so simple?
Thoughts swirling, he pulled into the clinic’s parking lot at dawn and lifted Brina in his arms. Haven #2 was primarily a medical facility, so they didn’t have many vampires, but if Jay could get in touch with Xeke … Or, what if Xeke was hurt, too? Jay knew Xeke didn’t condone Midnight, but he had some connection to it. Would the elemental be able to tell the difference?
“I need some help!” Jay shouted, flagging down a nurse as he crossed the threshold of the medical building. As soon as Brina was safe, he could call Xeke.
“Put her here,” the nurse said, gesturing to one of those rolling beds, which had been left in the hall. “What’s going on?”
“I think she …” He trailed off as he checked out the nurse. She smelled of antiseptic and gardenia perfume, and her name tag said Volunteer. She was probably perfectly capable as a nurse, but Jay didn’t want to dump on her the impossibility of a centuries-old vampire being revived. “She was having a heart attack,” he said. “Is Caryn here?”
The wide-eyed volunteer nodded as she lifted the safety rails on the bed. “Is she able to be transferred to a human hospital?” she asked. “A heart attack is more acute than our clinic usually—”
“No, she isn’t,” Jay interrupted. He glanced at Brina, not wanting to leave her, but he needed to talk to someone of higher authority. “I’ll go find Caryn. You should do whatever medical things you do for someone having a heart attack,” he said. “My magic put her out, though, so don’t be worried that she won’t wake up right away.”
He didn’t wait for her response but sought out Caryn, who was just finishing an exam with a smiling, pregnant shapeshifter. Since the patient obviously wasn’t in immediate distress, Jay didn’t hesitate to pull Caryn aside to say, “I need your help.”
“You’re back!” Caryn said. By this point, Jay was almost starting to get used to his empathy being a burned-out blur, but Caryn’s relief was so obvious on her face that even he could recognize it. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, fine,” he replied shortly. “But I need you to look in on the woman I brought back with me.” He chewed his lip, not knowing how to begin. “It’s Brina.”
Caryn’s eyes widened. “Brina the vampire? Have you alerted the—”
“No, no, it’s not a matter for hunters,” he interrupted. “She’s unconscious. And she’s human.” He cut off all questions, speaking rapidly. “I don’t know how. But I need to find out, which means I need to leave Brina here. I have no idea what kind of shape she’s in physically. Can you keep her safe and unconscious until I get back?”
Caryn nodded. Softly, she asked, “Jay, how much trouble are you in?”
“Hey, there’s a chance I might not be in any trouble at all,” he replied optimistically. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Caryn looked openly skeptical, but all she said was “I’ll check on Brina, and if it’s safe, I’ll sedate her. Then—” She broke off with a sneeze. “That new volunteer’s perfume should be outlawed.”
“I think she’s taking Brina’s vitals right now, so you’ll get another good whiff of her,” Jay teased, earning a halfhearted glare. “But really, thanks. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
It was a little past dawn, an hour when most vampires were settling down to sleep, but Jay returned to his room and tried to call Sarah anyway. Nikolas and Kristopher were close to Kendra, who most certainly was allied with Midnight, and the same vampire who had changed their sister Nissa had also changed Brina. They hadn’t been alive during Midnight’s first reign, but would the elemental know—or care—about that difference?
“Allô, c’est Marguerite.”
“Um … Hi, this is Jay. Sarah’s cousin?” He hoped he had the right number. “Is Nikolas available?” Sarah was almost certainly asleep for the day already, but the older vampire might still be awake.
“Non, no, he is sleeping. Is there a message?”
If his bloodbond didn’t know of a problem, then Nikolas was probably fine. But probably wasn’t enough to settle Jay’s anxiety. “Could you check on him?”
“Is there a reason to be concerned?” Intriguing. Marguerite’s French accent disappeared as worry crept in.
“A magical … thing,” Jay answered vaguely. “Probably nothing, but—”
He broke off, because he heard a door open on the other end of the line, followed by soft voices. When Marguerite spoke next, she no longer sounded friendly. “He is fine. Is there anything else?” The accent was creeping back in. Was it something she did intentionally? It would be a great way to divert solicitors.
“No, I— Actually, wait. Do you know anything about Midnight?” Marguerite had been around a long time.
“Très peu.”
Jay had no idea what that meant, but he was pretty sure that the sudden return to French was her way of evading the question.
“If the vampiric mistress of a household is indisposed, can someone help her slaves without getting in trouble?” he pressed, thinking of the people he had left behind at Brina’s house.
No answer, for long enough that Jay glanced at his phone to check that he was in fact still connected. “Marguerite?”
“It would be … inadvisable for you to do such a thing,” she replied. “Midnight’s laws are not charitable toward someone of your vocation.”
“What if someone else from SingleEarth did it, someone who isn’t a hunter?”
“No, no,” she snapped. “Any mortal would be seen as a thief. Their freedom would be forfeit.”
That advice might have been helpful before Jay had walked off with the sakkri. “But what if—”
“If I ask Nikolas to look into this,” Marguerite interrupted, “will you cease these questions?”
Jay trusted Nikolas to take care of the helpless people in Brina’s household, and Marguerite wouldn’t have offered anything that could get her cherished master in trouble. “It’s Brina’s slaves I’m worried about,” he said. “I have reason to believe she may not be returning home soon.”
“If she is dead, Nikolas cannot interfere with inheritance laws.” Marguerite’s voice went soft, and perfectly neutral.
It was a reasonable assumption to make, but in this case it brought a somewhat hysterical laugh from his throat. “No, not dead,” he gasped out. Quite the opposite.
“Then I will speak with Nikolas when he wakes. Can I assure him that you do not intend to do anything stupid? He and Sarah have expressed concern for you.”
“Anything stupid” was a broad, poorly defined category. “You can let him know I got home safely, and that I trust him to help Brina’s slaves so I don’t need to do anything stupid about them.”
“Ça suffit.”
“Great.”
He hung up, feeling no more comforted than before. Nikolas was fine. That was good, but what did it mean? Had the elemental targeted only her most recent captor? Or targeted only slave traders, or trainers?
Rikai. She had contacts galore, and understood sorcery.
The three-hour drive to Rikai’s home was frustrating to the extreme. He wasn’t sure she would be willing to meet with him once he arrived, but he didn’t have a phone number to call. His hopes and fears both rose as he drove into the driveway and found Rikai standing on her front step, one hand braced on the doorframe, her foot tapping. She had known he was coming.
“We need to talk again, witch,” she said, “in a little more detail.”
She sounded out of breath, and as he approached, he realized her posture was not casual at all. She was standing stiffly, as if in pain.
“What happened to you?” he asked, reaching out instinctively with his power—and then retreating as he felt her magic snatch at his hungrily.