7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

It was a relief when Markith exploded into ash. Voltaire grunted and the Red Guard took a step back as if to leave. ‘Wait!' I ordered sharply.

Voltaire's eyes narrowed. ‘You are not my Queen to order me so,' he said harshly.

‘I may not be your Queen but I am a Queen, so show me some damned respect.' I spat the last word.

His jaw worked, then he dismissed the others with a jerk of his head. They faded into the shadows and Voltaire faced me alone. ‘What?' he snarled. ‘What are you going to do? Take my free will away from me again?'

He definitely wasn't a fan of mine, and after the stunt he'd pulled with Abberdon the feeling was mutual. He'd been the one to persuade Abberdon to challenge me and I wouldn't forget that betrayal. Voltaire was a snake in the grass .

It was time for my own snarl. ‘I saved you, you ungrateful asshat!'

His lips flattened but he didn't deny it. ‘What do you want?'

We were back to business. ‘The blackmail material you took from Mark Oates. Have you managed to crack it yet?' I asked boldly, my smirk implying that I thought it was beyond him. From what little I knew of the man, a suggestion that he couldn't do something might well make him prove that he could.

‘It is no concern of yours.'

My eyes narrowed. ‘It is every concern of mine. I now suspect both Larsden and Ramsay of being part of the Black Tourney.'

‘And you wish me to arrest them for you?' he asked, still disdainful like he thought I couldn't do my job properly.

‘No, of course not. They're already dead.' I waved my hand casually as if I'd masterminded their doom instead of being the one who was scrambling around trying to solve the mystery of their deaths.

Voltaire couldn't prevent the look of surprise that dashed across his face. He hadn't thought me capable of killing, which was surprising since he must surely have known the outcome from the various challenges I'd faced, Abberdon's included .

Whilst he was taken aback, I pressed my advantage. ‘I want to know who their compatriots are. I am … invested in shutting down the Black Tourney.'

‘Our sources suggest that it has only run once without Ghost at the helm,' Voltaire admitted grudgingly. ‘I do not believe it attracted the numbers it requires to be a profitable venture. It may well die a death on its own without further intervention from us.'

‘Perhaps – but that being the case, I still want to know the names on those computer drives.'

Voltaire grimaced. ‘As do I.' He paused, clearly wrestling with himself; finally he added, ‘Of the three we took, two had viruses that destroyed the evidence before we could analyse it. Understandably our tech expert is moving slowly with the third.'

I frowned. ‘That doesn't make sense. Mark wasn't a very techy guy – frankly, he was a neanderthal. And those drives were his backup – he wanted them to be found and used.'

‘What are you suggesting?' Voltaire asked, his voice low.

I grimaced as I came to the only conclusion I could draw from the evidence. ‘I think you've got someone in your ranks working against you.' I waited for an explosion and a vociferous denial but none came; he'd already considered it himself.

‘How old are you?' I asked abruptly.

His nostrils flared. ‘That is a very rude question.'

‘It may well be, but I want to know if you existed in a time when werewolves had other powers.' I suddenly remembered that he had commented once, ‘Your weakling wolves are not the threat they once were.' Excitement thrummed in me; he had to know something about our lost powers.

His eyebrows shot up. ‘You're talking about the wolves' air magic.'

‘Exactly.'

Despite himself, Voltaire looked interested in where I was going with this. ‘I was young when it was lost,' he said finally. ‘And I was not interested in the affairs of the wolves. I do not know the cause of your loss, if that is what you want to know.'

I shook my head. ‘I know what caused the loss and I plan to remedy it.'

‘Tread carefully, Lucy Barrett,' he warned. ‘The Other realm exists in a constant state of flux and it is delicately balanced. If the werewolves seize more power, you may bring greater enemies to your door than the ones that are currently growling there.'

‘And will that include you, Voltaire?'

His expression was sour. ‘You extorted the vow from me – in exchange for three dud USB drives.'

‘I didn't know they were duds,' I argued.

‘Even so, you well know that I cannot harm you nor can any of the other vampyrs.'

‘And yet you hired Abberdon to attack me.'

‘I did not hire him; I merely discussed a course of action he was already willing to take. And mine was not the only voice to do so. I could not pay someone to harm you, any more than I could harm you myself. I would be foresworn, be an oath breaker. The Other realm would take me. No, you still have the vampyrs' apathy, as does the Home Counties pack.'

‘And the Devon Pack,' I said calmly. ‘And the Dorset Pack, the Essex Pack and the East Riding Pack. I'm now alpha to all the packs of the challengers that I killed, so they also fall under your vow.'

Voltaire's nose pinched and his eyes were angry but he gave a tight nod. Perhaps reminding him of his failure to kill me through Abberdon might not have been my smartest move; he wasn't a man who took failure well. Time to change tack.

Ask him about the Domini, Esme suggested. He is long in the tooth. He must have come across them during his time hunting dark witches.

That was a good idea. ‘What do you know of the Domini?' I asked .

He blinked and reached up to rub his index finger along his top lip. ‘Children's tales,' he said finally, holding my gaze. He was lying.

I smiled. ‘We both know that's not true, Voltaire.'

He looked around again, checking that his men had truly gone, then he stepped closer and lowered his voice. ‘Do you know what the Red Guard do, Lucy Barrett?'

‘You hunt down black witches and necromancers who would seek to control and use vampyrs like puppets.'

His eyes blazed at the inadvertent reminder that I, too, had used him like a puppet. Fuck: I was fumbling this so badly. His jaw clenched but he had clearly decided that discretion was the better part of valour and he chose to let it go. For now. ‘That is correct, in part. But it is more than that. Simply put, our role is to crush the despicable. The vile. The evil.'

‘Then why are the Anti-Crea flourishing?' I asked, exasperated.

He sighed. ‘We are an organisation like any other. We have masters who point to where we must go.'

‘And they're pointing you away from the Anti-Crea?' I speculated.

‘For now.'

‘And the Domini?'

He smiled a dark, sinister smile. ‘Those, we are pointed towards.'

Bingo! ‘Have you identified anyone in the organisation? Do you know how they operate?' I asked eagerly.

‘They operate in cells. No one knows more than a handful of the others within the organisation. We can – and have – captured pockets of them, but then the hunt begins anew. We have been told that they meet once a year in a great conclave. They wear masks.'

‘Do you have any idea when or where?'

‘If I did, do you think we would be discussing it? Hunting the Domini is harder than hunting a snow leopard. It is slow, painstaking and often deadly.' He met my eyes, his expression serious. ‘If they realise you're hunting them, they will bring war to you before you are ready for it. It is not a coincidence that all the world thinks we hunt dark witches alone.'

‘Our interests align once more,' I pointed out. ‘I'm after the Domini, as are you. We could work together.'

The faintest of smiles appeared on his lips, ‘A vampyr and a werewolf working together? It is surely one of the signs of the apocalypse. Have a care, Lucy Barrett.' With that, he sank into the shadows and disappeared.

‘He always has to make such a dramatic exit,' Grandy huffed.

I grimaced. I couldn't help but feel that Voltaire had deliberately phased away before I could ask him anything more. He wasn't a man who played nicely with others.

For all the hot air that he'd given me, I was still at square one.