Chapter 6

Iwas a creature of the night by habit, and sleep usually found me just before dawn. Edwin showed me where my cases were stowed and helped me carry them up to my proper quarters—not the room I’d found myself in earlier, but a larger, cushier one on the third floor with a four-poster bed, wood-framed, cushioned seating, a hearth complete with hot coals, and arched windows hung with thick velvet drapes. The wooden floor was scattered with deep piled rugs, and there was a small ensuite bathroom with modern plumbing.

“We have electricity in some of the house,” Edwin explained. “Most of the place is wired. But we don’t use it much.”

I set my case on the floor by the bed. “This whole living in the Dark Ages feels unnecessary.”

“Not the Dark Ages,” Edwin said. “Just a time before technology rose and our world crashed and burned for it. Vampires are creatures of habit and this…This is their comfort era. They don’t like change.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Heck, who knows how life would be if humans hadn’t pushed for change so fast.”

“We don’t know that technology was the cause of the rifts.”

“No. I suppose, not for sure, but I’m certain it helped. I mean, based on my research.”

I’d done my research too, and nothing was conclusive. Just theory and postulation. There was a world outside the magical dome that encased the city, but the details of that world were a mystery to me.

This, right here, inside the dome, was all that mattered. It was the world the survivors had built. Supernaturals and humans coming together to create a haven.

The Accords had saved lives, saved the three dominant supernatural creatures from tearing each other to shreds and taking down humanity with them. The mageri splitting the city into territories had been the only solution. Now our world consisted of Raventhorne territory for shifters, Morningstar territory across the golden bridge, home to the fallen angels, devils and demons, and Dracul, which was filled with suckers of all kinds. Humans weren’t permitted to reside in Morningstar territory, but they made homes in Raventhorne or Dracul, adhering to the rules of that specific supernatural breed. There were those that preferred to live in the Fringe, an area missed by the magical boundaries set up by the mageri. It was my home, and I’d be headed back as soon as my year here was up. Or maybe I’d explore the world outside the safety of the dome. Not alone, though; I’d do it with the two women I loved the most in all the world—Nyx and Quinn, my best friends.

Okay, so I was ignoring the fact that they had responsibilities now. Heck, I’d been forced to abandon Nyx to adhere to my Order oath. But she’d be okay. She had to be.

Anxiety tightened my chest. Because how would I know for sure? I squeezed my eyes shut. Lorenzo would let me know. I had to believe that the mageri male would find a way to get a message to me if needed.

“We can learn a lot from history,” Edwin said, interrupting my thoughts. “Maybe avoid making the same mistakes as those that came before.”

“How old are you, Edwin?”

He blinked in surprise. “Twenty-four, why?”

“You’re wise for your age.”

He beamed at me. “Thanks.” He rubbed his hands together and gave another shrug. “Maybe I can show you the archives tomorrow?”

“Yes. I’d like that.” Anything that might help me understand Ezekiel and figure out how best to manage him.

He beamed at me once more. “I’ll leave you to get settled in.”

I closed the door behind him, then turned the key in the lock. Not that I didn’t trust the people here, but…

It took less than thirty minutes to unpack and stow my clothes in the rosewood wardrobe. I traveled light.

My blessed sword found a spot beside my bed, within easy reach, and the two novels I’d brought with me found a home on the nightstand beside the candle holder and electric lamp.

That was me done.

With no patrol to run and no case to manage, I was at a loss—dressed for bed in a sleep tee and shorts and wide awake.

My feet sank into soft pile, then kissed cold wood by the window as I drew back the drapes to let in the moonlight. Beyond the frosted windowpane, the waxing moon sat against a midnight sky while dancing stars paid homage to it.

The mansion was on a hill. A rise high enough to leave Dracul territory laid out before it like a feast for the eyes. The world below was acres of gray and silver land sloping down toward an ominous inky tree line, and beyond that, in the west, was the dark shadowy shape of the rest of Old Town, while to the east, so far in the distance that I must be imagining it were the twinkling lights of New Town.

This would be home. At least for the next year. But if I was going to survive it, things would have to change.

But that was a tomorrow problem.

Right now, my body needed rest.

Leaving the drapes open to let in the moon, I climbed into bed, pulling the heavy blankets up to my neck. Long minutes dragged by, and as my eyelids grew heavy, Hemlock’s words came back to me: Thank your stars he shackled you to a wall and didn’t just nail you into one of his guest coffins. How could he know about guest coffins in Branwood Castle? How could he know so much about Ezekiel at all?

The vampire only woke once a century and only for a year. It made no sense…

I’d ask Ordell in the morning.

Thud.

I jolted awake, heart pounding.

Tap. Tap.

The window?

My feet kissed the ground, sword in hand in a blink.

Tap tap.

Something was outside my window. Three stories up.

Scalp tight, I padded around the bed, keeping to the gloom outside moonlight’s reach, attention on the winged shadow filling the silvery arch cast by the window on the wooden floor.

Tap, tap, tap.

Insistent but polite, when it could easily smash through the glass, which meant whatever wards were on the house were either down or didn’t affect the creature at my window.

I took a deep breath and swung around to face it, sword at the ready.

Godor glared at me, snout wrinkling. He clung to the window frame with his feet and the tips of his wings, his hands occupied with holding a box.

“For you.” He held it out.

It looked like an old-fashioned hat box—red velvet with a black ribbon tied around it.

“You take.” He held it out. “Please.”

This creature had done me a solid earlier. But if he was here now, then it meant that Ezekiel had sent him. “Does Ezekiel know you saved me?”

He canted his head, beady eyes glistening in the moonlight. “Godor would never disobey Master. Disobeying means death.”

But he had disobeyed, which meant I might have an ally in him. “Understood.”

“Good.” The wind buffeted him, howling as it tried to tear him from the frame, but he held firm, his form solid and unmovable. “Please take.”

I set the sword down and opened the window to take the box. It was heavy enough for me to have to adjust my grip to hold it carefully.

“Glad you not dead,” Godor said, his gaze dropping to the box. “Sorry.” He pushed away from the window, leaping and twisting in the air, wings flaring to catch the night and rise toward the stars.

I closed the window and carried the box to the dresser. Whatever was inside couldn’t kill me, because Ezekiel had sent it, but it might hurt me.

I pressed my ear to it. Silence. But what was that smell? That iron tang…My heart sank.

Blood.

I grabbed my sword and sliced off the ribbon, then slowly raised the lid.

Silken, golden strands of hair dappled with red filled the box.

My pulse thudded hard in my throat because the hair was attached to a head.

I carefully lifted it out.

Mary stared at me with dead eyes, mouth unhinged and wide. Cold now. Dead now. But she’d been filled with life not too long ago. A wife and a mother. A person worthy of living and now…I closed my eyes against the threat of tears, breathing past the tightness in my throat. “I’m sorry. So fucking sorry.” I sucked in several breaths, drawing on the words of the high chaplain, words said to us during ordination. Words I carried with me like an anchor when the storm that was our world threatened to sweep me away: There will be death. Some you won’t be able to avoid. Some you will not be able to save. But you must persevere. Contain your emotions. Do not show fear. Do not show weakness or the powers of darkness will use it against you.

I would not show weakness. Not here. Not now. I opened my eyes and examined the head, just a head because Mary was gone. It was bloodless at the stump, which meant that Ezekiel had drained it.

Drained it and sent to me. Why? Because he was sick.

Because he believed I’d survived the toxin and now he wanted to mess with me.

I made to put it back, but there was something else in the box. A neat envelope containing a card. I set the head down on the dresser, carefully retrieved the card, and scanned the elegant script.

You’re hardier than I thought, little silver.

Dinner at midnight or someone else loses their head.

E.H.T.

Hmmm…Okay.

I carefully put the head and note back in the hat box and sealed it all up.

Hands washed, drapes drawn, I climbed back into bed and settled down to sleep.

The head in the box was a tomorrow problem.