Drake Chronicles: 02 Blood Feud (12 page)

Liam rose when we entered. “Isabeau,” he said warmly.

Helena lifted her head from the piles of papers and books in front of her. Finn nodded to me once.

“Liam,” I greeted him, my voice careful y blank.

“I trust you slept wel ?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“I apologize for the unfortunate event with the Hypnos,” he added soberly.

“As do I.”

“And I thank you for ridding our woods of Host and breaking the spel against our daughter.”

“You’re welcome.”

“We owe you for that,” Helena agreed. She shoved the books away. “Now can we please dispense with this courtesy dance and get down to it?”

Liam glanced down at her rueful y. “Love.” She shot him an equal y rueful look. “Sorry.” She turned to me.

“I hope you’re not offended, Isabeau.”

“Not at al ,” I assured her. In fact, I was rather relieved to hear her say it. I was starting to wonder if that was part of reason I’d been chosen: not necessarily because of who I was but because of who Helena Drake was. Anyone else, Magda included, would have bristled and assumed she didn’t think Hounds worthy of the usual protocol. I understood she was too direct to bother with political games. It made me suddenly hopeful about the al iance between our tribes. We were sick to death of games and politics.

“I’m rather envious of you, actual y,” she added.

I blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’d have loved to have chased a Host down last night. Instead it was al treaties and protocols and hyperactive guards.” She shook her head. “I’m going out hunting tonight, Liam, so you’d best get everyone to just deal with it.”

She didn’t seem like any mother I’d ever known. My own had been more interested in lace and dancing until dawn.

Logan grinned. “I don’t think queens are supposed to hunt, Logan grinned. “I don’t think queens are supposed to hunt, Mom.”

“Then I’l take Isabeau with me.” She quirked a dry smile in my direction. “Then it won’t be hunting, it wil be al iance improvements.”

“We’l make a politician out of you yet,” Liam said.

“There’s no need to be insulting.” She sat back in her chair, her long black braid fal ing behind her.

“Mom, we found a secret tunnel,” Logan told her grimly. “Very new, off behind the empty caves on the other side of the weapons room.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Another one?” He blinked at her. “There’s more of them?”

“Two that we’ve found so far,” she replied. “Your father won’t let me fil them with dynamite.”

“I’d rather not have the entire compound fal on our heads,” he said dryly. “I’l take care of it.” He spoke into his cel phone at a discreet murmur just as one of the guards opened the door.

Suddenly the room seemed too smal and constricting. Hart, the leader of the Helios-Ra, strol ed in with Kieran and a girl with long blond hair. Her shoulders were tight, her hand hovering over a stake at her belt. She wore the black cargos and shirt that virtual y every other agent wore while on assignment. I looked for the vial of Hypnos powder they strapped inside their sleeves but I couldn’t find it.

“Hart,” Liam greeted the other man with an amiable handshake. “Glad you could make it.”

The blond girl and I were the only ones who looked as if we didn’t think this was entirely normal. Wel , and Magda, of course. She pressed closer to me, second set of fangs protruding slightly. Hart was handsome, dressed in a simple gray button-down shirt and jeans instead of camo gear. There was a scar on his throat.

“You know Kieran, of course,” he said. “This is Hunter Wild.” He motioned to the blond girl. “The Wilds have been part of the league since the eleventh century.”

“How do you do?” Liam murmured calmly. “Have a seat.” Hunter nodded stiffly, eyes wide. Kieran cleared his throat, nudging her into a chair next to him. The rest of the Drake brothers filed in, stealing the last bit of air and space left in the room. Hunter stared at them. Out of everyone in the room, the vampire hunter was the one I could relate to most right now. My eyes would have bugged out of my head too, if I’d let them. This kind of group gathered together peaceful y was unprecedented, outside of the old families on the Council.

“We can do good work,” Liam said quietly. “If we let ourselves. We’ve cal ed the Council. They’l be here in two days.

Meanwhile, Hart has already agreed to work with us.”

“What, and just give up kil ing vampires?” Magda asked.

“And you believe him?”

Hart half smiled. “We’re al learning a little discretion is al .

We have a common enemy, after al .”

“Montmartre?” I asked. I hadn’t thought Helios-Ra was particularly interested in vampire politics.

He shook his head. “No, the
Hel-Blar
. Something has them running brave. We’ve never intercepted so many cal s to the police about strange people wearing blue paint. I think we can agree they need to be hunted.”

Magda nodded reluctantly. She had no love for the
Hel-Blar
; none of us did. It was too easy for the Hounds to remember that we might have been like them, but for a little luck and a little hidden inner fortitude.

“We’ve been getting disturbing reports al evening as wel ,” Helena said. “The
Hel-Blar
are everywhere suddenly.” Magda hissed. “They’re like cockroaches.”

“Only rather more deadly,” Finn agreed.

“Is Montmartre behind this?” Hunter asked. “I didn’t think he could control them. Isn’t that the whole reason for their existence?”

“We don’t know,” Helena replied darkly. “I’d real y like to feed him his own—”

“Darling,” Liam cut her off smoothly.

“Wel , I would,” she insisted. “
Hel-Blar
or not, he needs to be dealt with.”

“Agreed.”

“We can stop Montmartre,” I told them confidently. “We nearly had him last week. He’s not invulnerable.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me al night,” Helena told me. “But tel me the truth, Isabeau, would the Hounds al y themselves with us?”

“We al want to stop the
Hel-Blar
,” I assured her. “And Montmartre.”

“And after he’s been stopped?”

“The Hounds wil recognize no one but our shamanka as our rightful leader,” I said delicately. “We wil never be part of the courts.”

Helena raised an eyebrow. “I’ve got enough vampires. I don’t need any more.”

“Actual y, that’s reassuring,” Finn murmured. “You might try stressing that point as often as you can when it comes to the Hounds. They’re rather keen on the right to govern themselves. I think you can understand that, given their history.”

“We don’t bow to Montmartre or anyone else,” Magda agreed fervently.

“Do you think our tribes would be able to form an al iance?” Liam asked. “One that recognizes everyone’s autonomy.”

“I think so.” Despite my natural misgivings toward the royal courts and non-Hounds in general, I genuinely liked the Drakes.

I believed they were trustworthy, even if I had no actual proof of it. It was something I felt in my gut. “There are many superstitions and rituals that are dear to our people,” I said.

“Some Hounds wil never agree to work with you because you’ve not been initiated, but they won’t go against Kala either.” Hunter was staring at Magda and me so intently that Kieran elbowed her.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“She’s never seen Hounds,” Kieran told us.

“I can speak for myself,” Hunter snapped at him.

“Wel , you’re being rude.”

I glanced at him. “At least she didn’t greet me with a face ful I glanced at him. “At least she didn’t greet me with a face ful of Hypnos powder.”

Kieran went red.

Quinn grinned, lounging back in his chair. “She’s got you there.”

“Children,” Helena said, half sharply, half fondly.

Hart’s cel phone warbled discreetly. He glanced at the display. “I’m sorry, I have to take this. Hart here.” His jaw tightened. “When?” He glanced at Liam. “Another
Hel-Blar
sighting. This one right on the edge of town.” Liam cursed.

“We’ve got a unit deployed,” Hart assured him.

Liam nodded to Sebastian. “Take a guard and see if you can help.” Sebastian was out the door without a word.

“I’l go as wel .” Finn pushed to his feet. “We may as wel al start working together right away. Besides, we have a certain expertise in this matter that no one else has.”

“But you’re not a Hound, right?” Hunter pointed out, honestly confused. “You don’t have the tattoos or anything.”

“No, but I’ve lived with them for nearly four hundred years,” he told her before fol owing Sebastian. It felt odd not to go with him but I knew I was needed here more, however much I might prefer to run off and bash a few
Hel-Blar
.

“Let’s reconvene in half an hour,” Liam suggested to the rest of us. “We can compare notes and take it from there.”

“Come on, Buffy,” Quinn drawled at Hunter. “I’l give you the tour.”

I took the opportunity to leave the smal room. I was used to caves, dark and secluded, but ours weren’t fil ed to the brim with people. Logan and Magda fol owed me, as if I had a plan.

We were on our way outside when I paused, frowning. I touched my fingertips to the jumble of amulets at my throat. They were warm and vibrating slightly, as if they felt an earthquake no one else did.

“Something’s wrong,” I whispered.

Magda and I both reached for our phones, which rang at exactly the same moment. I didn’t bother to answer mine. The chain of my amulet broke and scattered the pendants across the rugs. The wolfhound tooth capped in silver and painted with a blue dye made from the woad plant broke in half. I looked up to meet Magda’s wild expression.

“Kala’s hurt,” she confirmed. “The Host attacked our caves.” She hissed. If she’d been a cat, her fur would have lifted straight into the air.

I felt oddly numb. “I have to go,” I told Logan, scooping up the amulets and stuffing them into my pockets. Charlemagne was at my side before I spoke the command. The courtiers whispered to one another as we rushed past them and out the other side of the decorated hal . “We’l be back for the coronation.”

Logan grabbed his jacket from a coat tree. “I’m coming with you.”

I didn’t have time to argue with him and I was oddly comforted by the fact that he would come with me. Even if I didn’t need him.

And I didn’t.

And I didn’t.

“Tel my parents we’re going to the Hounds. Their shamanka’s been injured,” he tossed out to one of the stern-faced guards at the entrance.

Magda and I were already scrambling down the cliffside, scattering pebbles. Something tumbled out of Logan’s pocket when he caught up to us. He picked it up, bewildered. “What the hel is this gross thing?”

He was holding a gray dog’s paw, the nails curled in. It was wrapped in black thread and thorny rose stems without blossoms. I went cold al over.

“That’s a death charm,” I said. “A rare Cwn Mamau spel ,” I elaborated when he just stared at me.

“It’s a dog’s paw,” he said very clearly, dropping it into the dirt.

“That’s disgusting. I thought you guys liked dogs.”

“It wasn’t kil ed for its foot,” I told him. “When our dogs die, of natural causes,” I pointed out, “or in an attack, we use them for spel work, after the burial rites.”

“Yeah, stil gross,” he muttered.

“And see this?” I pointed out a flat bone disk painted with a wolfhound and a blue fleur-de-lys. “That’s my personal mark.

Someone’s trying to frame me.”

CHAPTER 11

Paris, 1793

“
Papa,
I don’t understand,” Isabeau pleaded. “Why do I have to wear this horrid dress? It itches.” The dress in question was gray wool without a stitch of ornamentation. She could pass for a maidservant or a vil age girl. Even her hair was tied back in an uncomplicated twist without a single pearl pin or diamond bauble.

“
Chouette,
it’s not safe anymore,” Jean-Paul answered.

She’d never seen him like this before. Nothing scared him, not Versail es, not wolves howling in the woods, not even the huge spiders that crawled into the château just before winter fel . She’d seen him fight a duel once, when she was supposed to be asleep in her bed. Now he looked haggard and tired and nearly gray with grief. Her mother sat weeping in the corner.

She hadn’t stopped crying in days. Her hair was losing its curl, her face unpowdered. Isabeau shivered.

“This is about the king, isn’t it?” she whispered.

He slanted her a glance. “What do you know
, chouette
?”

“That the mob took Bastil e, that Paris is no longer safe.”

“It’s not just Paris anymore,” he said quietly, shoving another wheel of cheese into the leather pack in front of him. They were in the kitchen, huddled by the hearth. Her old nursemaid Martine stood by the door, spine sword-straight. She wore a brown woolen dress and her hair was scraped back under a cloth bonnet. Isabeau had never seen her look so plain before. She shivered again.

“They’ve gained in strength and numbers. They’ve set up the guil otine as a permanent gal ows. And the king was executed yesterday. France truly has no royalty now.” She stared at him, shocked. “They kil ed the king?”