Chapter 5

I had Godor take me back to the chapter house after my blood donation. Padma’s transfusion would take a couple of hours, but she promised we’d talk at the office tomorrow.

I should have been knackered, but by the time Godor dropped me back through my window, I was wired and hungry.

Harriet hadn’t even offered me a cookie after taking what had to have been a pint of blood. So it was with wobbly steps and a grumbly tummy that I made my way to the kitchen in search of a snack.

It was almost two in the morning, so the last thing I expected was to find Hemlock and Ordell seated at the kitchen table, nursing mugs of fresh coffee. Hemlock’s hair was damp and slicked back, silver coin coasting along his knuckles. Ordell sat with both hands wrapped around his extra-large mug, white-gold hair unbound and tussled.

They looked up as I stepped into the room. Hemlock’s mouth tightened, his ice-blue eyes darkening, but Ordell shoved back his seat and crossed the room to pull me into a hug. His shirt smelled like pine cones and fabric softener, warm with the heat of his skin and soft against my cheek.

“You’re okay.” He rested his chin on the top of my head. “I was so worried.”

I would never tire of being hugged by this man, no matter how annoyed or irritated I was with him, and so I hugged him back, breathing him in and closing my eyes to enjoy the moment. “I’m fine, just hungry.”

“Haiden made savory scones,” Ordell said, his voice rumbling against me. “Hemlock, get Orina some scones.”

“Do I look like a server?” Hemlock grumbled, but I heard his chair scrape as he got up anyway. Still, his tone was a reminder of what these men represented, and the hug no longer felt like such a safe place.

I pulled away, and Ordell reluctantly released me.

“What happened?” he asked.

“You weren’t in your room,” Hemlock added quickly. “We didn’t know where you were, but your window was wide open. Did Godor take you?”

There was something in the way he was asking…a veil over Ordell’s expression…but it was late, and my focus was shot. Trying to read them was pointless. “Yeah. He used his knockout breath.”

“And?” Ordell handed me a mug of coffee. “It’s the one with no caffeine.”

I took it and sipped, grateful for the sweetness and the warmth. “Ezekiel spun his usual bullshit. He wanted to show me he was in control.”

“What did you say to him?” Hemlock asked.

I took a seat, captivated by the glint of the silver coin as it moved up and down his knuckles faster and faster. “If you’re worried that I told him your secret, then don’t be. I’m not stupid. If sparking his humanity is the only way to stop the big bad bitch, then throwing him into insanity by revealing the truth won’t help anyone.” I snagged a scone from the plate Hemlock had placed on the table. “But I’m done pussyfooting around him and pandering to his ego.”

“Whatever makes you comfortable,” Ordell said. “We’re just happy you’ve decided to stay. Aren’t we, Hemlock?”

“Ecstatic,” Hemlock said dryly.

I shot him a narrow-eyed glare. “You should be.” Then to Ordell, “Did you honestly believe I’d leave? After everything you told me?”

He blinked sharply. “I…I don’t know. You were understandably upset.”

“I watched a bunch of women get slaughtered, including my friend, so yeah, I was. But at the end of the day, I took an oath to protect the innocent, so that’s exactly what I’m going to do, even if it means finding the strength to hope that a murderous monster like Ezekiel can be redeemed.”

“You really don’t believe he can, do you?” Hemlock asked.

I wasn’t sure what I believed when it came to the vampire king. “Do you?”

His jaw flexed. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

There was real conviction in his eyes, and for a moment, I was tempted to hope, but then an image of the bloody ballroom filled my mind, and Agatha’s final bloodcurdling scream rang in my ears. Oh God, if Loviator had made him what he was, what would she do if we failed to stop her being free? “Does the Order have a backup plan?”

Shadows shifted in Hemlock’s eyes. “You’d have to ask the operative that when he gets here.”

“You’re telling me you don’t know? He’s your brother. You’ve been doing this cycle for centuries.” Just saying it out loud gave me a headache because these guys…These guys were ancient, and suddenly I wasn’t hungry anymore. Suddenly the only thing I wanted was to sleep. “And in all this time you haven’t managed to help him find his humanity, even with the help of this mysterious woman, so how the fuck do you expect me to do it?”

“We have hope. We have to try,” Ordell said.

His ocean-blue eyes were warm with compassion, and my ire dimmed beneath his gaze.

“Tell me…will ending Ezekiel’s curse end yours too?” I looked over at Hemlock then back to Ordell. “Will it save you both as well as stop Loviator?”

“We believe so,” Ordell said. “We believe our fates are connected to his.”

I sighed. “Then, in that case, I’ll do whatever it takes. Not for him, but for you…both of you.”

Hemlock dropped his gaze, and the silver coin stilled, locked in place between his index and ring finger.

I polished off the last of the scone and drained my coffee. “On that note, I’m going to bed.”

Ordell looked like he wanted to say something more, and I paused, waiting, but his shoulders dropped, and he shook his head. “Thank you.”

I was almost out of the door when Hemlock piped up. “We’ll be headed back to the castle the day after tomorrow. All three of us.”

I raised a hand in acknowledgment as I slipped out of the room. One more day and night of respite. I’d best make the most of it.

I woke late the next morning to Edwin knocking on the door telling me the team was headed to New Town. Padma drove so we didn’t get a chance to talk on the way. But we grabbed donuts enroute, and once we were settled in the office, coffee in hand, Padma filled Edwin and Merry in on the previous night’s encounter at Harriet Jacq’s mansion.

“So you now know everything.” Edwin sounded relieved. “We told you a couple of times, Merry, but then…It just seemed cruel.”

Merry sat with her head in her hands. “I understand. But I want to know. If I forget again—I…I’m going to write this down in my journal tonight.”

Ordell had given her the idea of keeping her own record, and it was good to see that she was following through on it.

Padma, however, was silent, fingers tapping a staccato rhythm on the rim of her empty teacup.

“I’m so sorry,” Merry said to Padma. “For everything you’ve been going through.”

Padma shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“She will be fine,” Edwin added. “We’ll figure this out.”

Sleep had organized the details of last night neatly in my mind, leaving two glaring questions. “Who were the murdered vampires in the restaurant, and who set the fire to kill them?”

“We don’t know,” Padma said. “The case was marked classified by the Sangualex. Even though the Order dealt with the fire, even though our people lost their lives, they claimed the files. And then a week later we found out the case was ruled as an accidental fire, not arson.”

“But it was arson,” Edwin said. “The fire started in the boathouse, and there was nothing in there that could accidentally combust. They found traces of an accelerant, though. The investigator said as much when I spoke to him.”

“But then he changed his story,” Padma said bitterly. “Next thing we know, Kaster Black is appointed as the head official for the Longlier branch, the same branch that took the arson files.”

“All our friends…” Merry’s mouth wobbled. “Gone because someone wanted a bunch of vampires dead.”

My gut told me that figuring out what had happened was important. “So it’s a cover-up. The fire, the dead vampires, but what are they covering up? Why were those vampires there that night? Who were they?” I chewed on my cheeks. “Do you think Kaster was sent to investigate?”

Padma shrugged. “No idea, and it’s not like he’d tell us.”

“Maybe not us,” Edwin said, his eyes lighting up. “But if he started seeing someone…” He raised his brows my way. “Started to trust them. It could start with a dinner date.”

What was he…Oh…I yanked open my desk drawer and found Kaster’s note inviting me for a meal sometime. His phone number was printed on the bottom. “You want me to fake date him?” I wasn’t sure that I was comfortable with that, especially considering my ordained status, and it must have shown on my face.

“You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” Padma said.

“I know. But this could be our only chance of finding out what happened that night, not just with the fire, but with Merry too.” I looked over at her. “Someone hurt you bad enough to mess with your memories and your mind. They need to be held accountable. Maybe Kaster can help us do that. I’m not going to fake date him, but I will extend the hand of friendship and see where that leads.”

Was it wrong to become friends with someone just to get information from them? Yes, yes it was, but wasn’t every friendship some kind of transaction where the participants each got something from the relationship, be it someone to talk to or someone to listen or someone who you knew would be there at the drop of a hat if you needed them?

I picked up my mobile and dialed, then killed the call when I remembered that he couldn’t speak. I saved the number and keyed in a text to him instead.

Hey, Kaster, it’s Orina Lighthart. I’d love to take you up on that offer of dinner. When’s good for you?

I was about to tuck my phone away when it pinged in response.

How about tonight?

“Was that him?” Merry asked, sitting forward eagerly.

“Yeah. He said he’s free tonight.”

“Do it,” Padma said, eyes bright.

Tonight sounds good. Let me know where to meet you.

I can pick you up.

No need. Just text me the time and place.

Seven at the Royal House.

I’ll be there.

I tucked my phone into my pocket. “Seven at the Royal House.”

Padma’s eyes went round, and Merry clasped her hands together and squealed.

I looked between the two of them. “What?”

“You’re going to need a dress,” Padma said. “A really nice one.”

I groaned. “Great. Fucking great. I need a refill.”

Padma followed me to the coffee machine. The amazing contraption gifted to us by Kaster Black, bless his vampiric soul. I bloody loved this machine.

I punched the buttons for milky and sweet. “Did the transfusion go all right?”

“Yes. I have another week, and the books from the Night Library should be here in a couple of days.”

I’d meant to ask her about this library when she’d mentioned it yesterday but got sidetracked. I was about to ask now, but she spoke before I could.

“I did call the Order. I called in twice. I told them what happened. Everything that I told you last night, leaving out the part about Merry’s memories and the mullo attack, but they refused to replenish us.”

After everything I’d learned and seen, I had no more doubts when it came to Padma’s honor. “I believe you.”

She looked surprised then relieved. “Even though that means there’s something wrong at the Order?”

Never that. “I don’t think your call made it to the Order. They have no record. I’m beginning to think that it may have been intercepted.”

Her eyes flared. “Oh…”

“Yeah. The Order has nothing to gain by keeping the chapter small, but the vampires do.”

“You think it’s all connected?”

“Don’t you?”

“I think you’re on to something,” she said.

“There’s definitely something bigger happening here, and whoever is in charge of it doesn’t want the chapter interfering.” But there was something else niggling at me. “About Merry. Did you get her checked out? Medically?”

“She’s half-blood fae. There isn’t much a medical professional would be able to glean because their anatomy is so different to us.”

“ Hmmmm , I just think…What if it’s not a physical ailment?” I could tell from her expression that the thought had crossed her mind.

“There is no way for us to know that. Not without a pure-blood fae healer looking her over, and there are none. Not outside of the Evergreen.”

“The Order may have contacts.”

The roar of a motorbike engine tried to drown out my words before dying.

“Yes, or they might not,” Padma countered. “Either way, once we tell them about Merry, she’ll be taken from us.”

Wait a second… “Merry asked you not to report it, didn’t she?”

“Every time we tell her the truth. Yes. The least we can do is respect her wishes and?—”

The bell above the main doors tinkled, and we both looked across at the door leading to the hallway.

The clip of boots grew closer, and then the door opened and a young woman wearing jeans and a leather jacket, bike helmet dangling from her gloved fingers, stepped into the room. She tugged off one of her gloves and ruffled her hair so that it went from helmet head to cute auburn pixie, then fixed her steely gray gaze on me. “You must be Orina Lighthart,” she said in a husky voice made for radio.

I arched a brow. “Yep, and you are?”

“Holly. Holly Abbot. Heard you needed some tracking help.”

A grin bloomed on my lips. Lorenzo had come through.