"And you were turned by a Celestine," she sneered. "Doesn't it burn you from the inside out knowing that you have the blood of your enemies running through your veins?" She felt Tristan's knee press against hers underneath the table and she let her hand curl around his thigh. She had this.
"Aoife," Aed spat, slamming his fist down on the table. "The woman who would call me son? That bitch cast off her Celestine name and took one of ours, but she never meant any of it. She betrayed us. She betrayed my father. The only thing I regret was not ripping her apart myself."
"Shame. What's it like being stuck in a tomb for three thousand years? Cramped?"
"Arrow," Tristan hissed beside her.
"Where are my sisters, Celestine?" Aed asked, his eyes beginning to swirl.
"I would hope that they're dead."
The hybrid shot to his feet with a snarl, curling his hands into the lapels of Aya's jacket, wrenching her out of the chair. The wind was knocked from her lungs as he shoved her hard against the wall, betraying just how strong he was. Fingers bit into her skin as he held her in place and she watched his eyes swirl with a strange luster. Her's were the silvery white of the stars when her vampire side took over, Aed's were a odd shade of red, almost like they were filling with blood, brimming to the edge with death.
"Oh, it's so romantic. The poor little children of Lir, turned into graceful swans." He dragged his fingertips along her face, his red eyes taking in every inch of her features. "Do I look like a swan to you?"
"Then why don't you just kill me now and be done with it? Isn't that what you want? Why else would you come here?"
His strange eyes searched hers for a moment and a smile crept onto his lips. "Because you're like me. You cannot be killed."
"We'll see about that."
"The last Original is gone. The spell is lost. You have nothing," he spat.
Aya suddenly realized why Regulus had been so intent on getting into the Coven. He was hunting the Children of Lir, but why did he care? He was dead. All the founders were, and there went their only known chance at delivering Aed his true end. They didn't know how to stop him.
The only thing she could think of doing was reaching for her power. It began to boil up inside of her as she contemplated her next move. She could kill the founding vampires her family crated, so it stood to reason she could kill a founding hybrid, Tuatha or not. Before she could think twice, she pushed him back with all her strength and he stumbled a few steps before coming to a stop.
"Well," he sneered. "It seems we are on equal footing, no?"
Tristan was on his feet and she held a hand out to stop him from intervening. There was nothing the knight could do, not now and especially not alone.
"What are you going to do, Aya?" Aed began to edge towards Tristan.
Before he could take another step, she lunged forward, her fingers outstretched. The familiar sensation of flesh cutting through sinew and bone prickled across her skin as she plunged her hand into the hybrid's chest. He let out a strangled roar of pain, eyes wide with surprise. She let her power slam into his heart, blue fire lighting up the room. The pop and fizz of every electrical circuit in the place shorting out was the only sound for one sickening minute and she thought she'd done it. His heart stopped in her hand and it was over. She pushed Aed's limp body away and he fell to the floor with a thud.
"Is he dead?" Tristan whispered, the darkness eerie considering the carnage they stood amongst.
"I-" She was interrupted by a loud wheeze as Aed drew in a heaving breath and sat straight up, his eyes fixed on her.
"That…hurt," he rasped, clawing at the hole in his chest.
"Shit," she hissed. Well, there went that idea. Her power was useless against the Tuatha. Null and void.
Aed rose to his full height, blood oozing down his front as the wound in his chest healed, flesh knitting back together. He reached for a chair, the wood snapping in his hands. Aya didn't have time to dodge to the side as he lunged for her, a long sliver of wood slicing her through her stomach, the tip imbedding in the wall behind her. Gasping in surprise, she tried to grasp the end to pull it out, but her hands wouldn't work. Fingers slid numbly against her skin, blood coating everything.
"How does it feel, star?" Aed asked, a satisfied smile playing across his lips. "Hurts, doesn't it?"
"What do you want?" Tristan asked, his voice wavering.
"What do I want?" The hybrid turned on the knight. "I want what is owed to me and I will take it anyway I can. I will make the world run red with blood if that's what I need to do. Do not stand in my way, vampire, or you will join them with your head on a pike." Turning back to Aya, he grabbed the splinter of wood and twisted it, obviously enjoying the gasp of pain as it tore through her flesh and organs. "Did you know…even your blood smells like the earth? Like flowers in full bloom. It's an insult."
"You smell like a rotting corpse," she said, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. "I think we're done here, don't you?"
He stared at her, the streetlamp outside lighting his face like the macabre devil he was. Wrenching the wood from her gut he tossed it at her feet as she fell to her knees with a gasp. He began walking toward the door, but stopped mid-stride. Aed looked at his hand and then down at a man who was slumped over the bar. Touching the corpse's shoulder, the hybrid's expression changed into one of surprise. As his hand began to glow a deep crimson, the dead man twitched and his eyes snapped open.
"Well," he smirked. "That's interesting."
"Arrow," Tristan took a step toward her as Aed pulled his hand away and watched the red flame envelop his arm. It was the same as her. He still had his power and it looked like he could reanimate corpses. That was just fantastic.
The door swung on its hinges and Aed was gone. Just like the insane, unpredictable mess that he was.
"Why'd you have to goad him on like that?" Tristan exclaimed, helping Aya to her feet.
"I wanted to see if he still had any power." She pulled up her shirt and smoothed her hand across her stomach. The hole was already closing over.
"Shit, Arrow. He could've killed us. I know you can come back and all, but what if he tore you to shreds? How the hell am I meant to put you back together?"
"Can you sew?" she asked, trying to stifle a laugh.
"You're makin' a joke at a time like this?"
"Better to make a joke than cry about it. At least now we know what won't work. I can't use my power against him."
"At least not to kill."
"No." She began to hobble from the pub, desperate for some air that was clear of the foul stench of death.
"What do we do now? What about that guy? The zombie?"
"Leave him be. He'll drop dead soon enough."
"Drop dead?"
"Even corpses have expiry dates."
No use moping about how she wasn't all powerful anymore. Her Celestine power was useless and this was one scrap she couldn't get herself out of. She supposed there was a first for everything. There was only one thing they could do at a time like this.
Grasping Tristan's shoulder for support, she said, "We need to find our friends."
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Rix is hiding out where?" Zac asked in surprise as Nye pointed to the arrivals display. They stood inside the concourse at London's Waterloo train station, waiting for the platform number to show up for a train out to Hampton Court.
"Hampton Court Palace." The number flashed up on the screen and the spy began weaving through the crowd. "He used to be a bodyguard of sorts to Henry the Eighth and his harem. He spent a lot of time out there, I assume. Roaming the halls, cracking skulls and all that stuff."
"So, he was a good guy once upon a time?"
"Depends on your definition of good. Henry was a mental case. He was dead before I was born, but England still reeked of his legacy, even under his daughter Elizabeth. Rix was party to that, even if it was only under orders. Everyone on the loosing side is doing shit they believe in until they get caught. Then they blame it
on 'orders'." He air-quoted the last part as they stepped into a train carriage toward the end.
"And you're sure he would've gone back there?" Zac asked as he sat in a seat next to a window.
Nye sunk down across from him, putting his feet onto the seat. "Rix never talked about his life before that much. Not many of us had nice beginnings, so I don't really blame him for keeping his trap shut. When he did talk about it, on the rare occasion he was off his face drunk, he always spoke about Hampton Court. It actually sounded like he was happy here, you know? It's the obvious place to look and if he ain't here, then I have no fucking idea where he's gone."
This feeling of absolute…sorrow washed over Zac and he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. Sinking his head low he took a few deep breaths. It came out of nowhere, but if anything the past year had taught him was that it always meant something supernatural was going on. His thoughts went straight to Aya and he knew it had something to do with her.
"What's wrong?" Nye frowned at him, sitting up straight.
"I just…" he said, rubbing his eyes. "I think it's Aya. Something's happening."
"Like what?"
Zac didn't know what to say, so he just said what he'd felt. "Sadness."
"Do you think it's her blood? She is a little unpredictable."
"Her blood gave me dreams for a while," he said, glancing out the window. Impossible dreams that had been windows into her past at a time he'd thought she was gone forever.
"Then maybe you're picking up on whatever she's feeling."
Zac shrugged and wondered if she'd gone home. He didn't think he was that special to warrant such anguish. He hoped she had worked up the courage to face her past and move forward. It was what he was trying to do after all and she'd spent a lot more time than him running from it. An overwhelming desire to ditch everything and go find her pricked at his skin.
"You said it yourself," Nye continued. "We've got work to do. No running back when you're the one who broke it off, mate."
"Are you a fucking mind reader?" he asked with a scowl.
"Don't need to read minds when it's all over your face." The spy kicked his feet back onto the seat. "Besides, helping the Three find their way back is the aim, right? Helping them, helps you find your own way. We've already got one out of three. Don't stop before we've got the complete set."
"Right."
"Then it's psycho fairy ass kicking time."
The train pulled into the station and Nye lead the way, pressing the button to open the doors. Only a handful of people got off, and they began walking toward the exit.
"There she blows," the spy declared, pointing across the river.
Hampton Court Palace was pretty unmissable. It sat right next to the river Thames, it's red brick facade and gardens stretching from the modern bridge backwards for as far as the eye could see. The building itself wasn't that large, not like Zac'd been expecting, but the grounds went on and on.
They crossed over the water, walked through the front gates and down the long driveway, tourists going in both directions. There was a small building to the left that seemed to be the ticket office and Nye strode in like he owned the place and Zac could only follow his lead. No one else was waiting to be served, so the spy went right up to the counter, startling a woman who'd been filing her nails.
She looked them up and down, trying to hide a look that said, 'What the fuck do you want to come here for?' They did look like a pair of thugs in their heavy black coats and boots. Combine that with Zac's constant scowl and Nye's pretty face, they probably didn't fit in anywhere, least of all Hampton Court palace and it's horde of tourists.
"You gunna give us a ticket, love?" Nye asked with a wink. "Or are you just gonna stare at us? I can give you my number if you like? What time you get off?"
The woman swallowed hard and said, "Two adults is thirty-five twenty."
"Thirty-five quid?" Nye exclaimed. Leaning over the counter, he said, "How's about just giving them to us?"
She shook her head, looking bewildered and printed out a pair of tickets and handed them to the spy. "Enjoy your visit."
"Cheers, love."
"Smooth," Zac drawled as they walked outside. "We could've just compelled the guy at the gate. You didn't have to scare the poor woman."
"Too many people around and we're too conspicuous, mate." He nodded at the gate that lead into the castle grounds. People milled about the entrance, where a guy stood on one side scanning tickets with a hand held gun.
"The place closes in half an hour."
"Good thing we got in before last admission." The spy slapped him on the shoulder.
They stood in the middle of the forecourt and Zac scanned the facade. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but it was a weird sensation standing inside something that was older than he was. Considering he'd been born in another century, it was strange to think he could get any older.
"I suppose we need a map," he said, watching tourists go in and out of different doorways and under archways to what looked like another outside court. The light was fading fast, being the dead of winter and all, but people still milled about, not bothered in the slightest.
"Don't need one," Nye said. "It may have been almost five hundred years, but I remember a thing or two about this place."
"Sometimes I forget how old you are."
"I'm an old musty man," the spy proclaimed. "But not as musty as the Irish knight."
Zac shook his head with a laugh. "Then where do you think Rix would be? I'm sure a place like this has a lot of hidden corners."
"He spent a lot of time protecting the King. My guess he would be around one of the passages leading from his apartments. Underground, not up here with this rabble."
"Okay, then. Lead the way."
They made their way across the cobblestoned courtyard and into a door that was marked with a sign reading, Henry VIII's Apartments.
"Once upon a time, in a land far far away," Nye began as they walked through the first floor, "there lived a King who couldn't keep it in his pants."
"I'm sure it went another way," Zac said as a few tourists turned to stare.
"Who needs an audio guide, when you've got me."
"Probably people who want the clean version."
His friend grinned as they found the stairs and walked upwards. "Henry liked to do a lot of things in his bedroom. One of them being coming…" he paused for dramatic effect, "…and going."
Rolling his eyes, Zac thumped up the ancient stairway, medieval tapestries and swords hanging from the walls. It really was lavish and nice to look at, but they hadn't come to gawk.
"Elizabeth lived here for a while," Nye said. "I came here a few times over the years. Being a spymaster meant I was privy to the hidden passageways and hidey holes. They did them pretty well and I could probably say with certainty that most of them haven't been opened in hundreds of years."
"Hidden stashes of medieval jewels?"
"All kinds of things. Medieval spank boxes."
"Too much information."
The attendant at the top of the stairs gave them a look as they stepped onto the landing. Without glancing twice, the vampires went into the first room, which was a formal throne room where whatever monarch lived here at the time would receive guests. Beyond that there was another throne room for the more important people, then a sitting room. All of them had painted ceilings and gold leaf encrusted carvings and furniture to match. Knowing how the other half must've lived made it a very stark contrast.
"Here," Nye said, waving him forward into the next room.
The royal bedchamber was dark and small, a four poster bed sat in the middle, flanked by ornate dressers and chairs. Rugs lined the floor, elaborate tapestries covered the walls and the windows at their backs opened out onto the manicured gardens below. The bed was smaller than Zac thought it'd be, not exactly 'king sized', not by modern standards. He gathered people were shorter back then and going by Nye's height he thought it must be the case.
He was almost a whole head taller than the spy.
Standing beside the rope that blocked off the room from the designated walkway, Nye glanced back the way they'd come, looking for the attendant. "The one good thing about winter," he said, "is that there ain't that many people tramping through the King's bedroom."
When he was satisfied the coast was clear, he stepped over the rope, striding across to the tapestry that covered a large portion of the opposite wall. Lifting the corner, his arm disappeared behind it, feeling the paneling behind.
"A secret passage?" Zac asked, glancing over his shoulder.
"Escape route," came Nye's muffled voice. "I don't know if anyone realizes it's here. There's a trick with this one and if you don't get it in the right angle you could be here for days." There was a dull thud and a click and the spy stuck his head out from behind the tapestry and shot his friend a grin. "You coming?"
Zac followed Nye through the gap in the wooden paneling and the spy slid it closed. It clicked into place and they were thrown into darkness.
"It's a crawlspace for a few yards, then it drops down a floor, then into the underground." The spy started to inch forward, his back against the wall. The air stunk like soot and grime and their boots kicked up a thick layer of dust as they shuffled the length of the first section of the crawlspace.
"So, it was used as an escape route for the King if ever the castle was breached?" Zac asked, his voice low.
"Yeah, and secret messengers and prostitutes and all kinds of debauchery."
"Why this one?"
"This is the only way down to the section of tunnel I think Rix would be."
The spy lead him down a set of crude stairs that were only slightly wider than the crawlspace. At the foot, they opened out on a passageway that was wide enough for them to stand face on, but their shoulders still brushed the stone walls on either side. The path seemed to slope downwards before they came to another set of stairs that Zac gathered led down to the underground section of the tunnels.
When they reached the bottom, Nye stopped in front and gestured down the tunnel. A warm light was radiating ahead, breaking up the darkness. Someone was down here and chances were it was Rix. Who else could it be?