“The Lord Marshal deserved it.” I put down the surgical tool and examined my handiwork. The wound was reduced to a hair-thin red scar. Considering how well werewolves had been bioengineered, it would likely heal fast. In a few days, you wouldn’t even be able to tell that someone tried to kill him.
We were in the front room. It had enough seating for everyone and I had formed three different screens to watch the surroundings. On the front screen, the six remaining Draziri were carefully retrieving the bodies of their dead. They had given the inn a wide berth, using back streets to skirt it and stay out of the range of my guns. They shouldn’t have bothered. As an innkeeper, my job was to respond to threats, not to initiate an attack. Once the skirmish ended, they were safe. As long as they didn’t try to shoot at the inn, they could parade in front of it all day long.
Sean pulled his T-shirt back on. I wouldn’t have minded if he had kept it off a few minutes longer, but with my sister here, there would be hell to pay later if I looked at him too long or noticed how muscular his back was. Or noticed his abs. I had taken a close look at his stomach while working on the gash, but it wouldn’t hurt to give it a second glance.
“Did you find what you were looking for at Baha-char?” I asked.
“Yes.” Sean pulled a small square of a data chip from his pocket and offered it to me. I took it off his finger, called up a terminal from the wall, and deposited the chip onto it. The terminal’s surface swallowed the chip. The face of the Draziri who’d come to talk to me appeared on the center screen.
I rose. “Let me get the Hiru for this.”
I walked into the depths of the inn past the Hiru’s quarters to a narrow chamber protected by a door. A series of recesses waited in the wall, the first filled with an argon tank. The Hiru stood by it, looking at the humanoid creature inside.
I fought a valiant battle against the smell. The human nose was supposed to stop recognizing an odor when exposed to it for several minutes, but the scent of the Hiru pretty much destroyed that rule. Only sheer willpower prevented me from gagging. The Hiru didn’t notice, absorbed in watching the tank.
“What do you see?” I asked.
The awkward alien sighed, his voice sad. “The future.”
We watched the first member of the Archivarius rest on the floor in a trance. I had asked if it required anything, but the Hiru told me the tank was sufficient.
“There are too many spaces,” the Hiru said, pointing at the wall. “There are ten.”
“How many should there be?”
“Nine.”
That meant we still had to retrieve eight members of the hive. I had hoped for two or three.
“You must give us more of a warning next time,” I said. “We need to know in advance where the next member will appear and when. If you don’t give us enough warning, the Draziri will get them first or we may not be able to retrieve them in time.”
“I will try,” the Hiru promised. “My people are trying to make sure the Archivarius is safe but matters are complicated. They are in hiding.”
And any appearance of the Hiru would draw the Draziri like moths to a flame.
“We are about to review the information about the Draziri who attacked us. Will you join us? Your input may prove valuable.”
The Hiru didn’t respond.
I waited. I had a feeling he wanted to stand right here and guard the tank.
“I will,” he said finally.
I led him back to the front room and watched everyone attempt to keep their stomach contents where they belonged. He stopped in a corner, away from everyone. Orro watched from the kitchen doorway. Her Grace sat in her usual chair.
“We’re ready now,” I told Sean.
“His name is Kiran Mrak za Ezara za Krala-Kric,” Sean said.
“That’s a mouthful,” Arland put in.
“The Draziri society is segregated into flocks,” I said. “The flock usually consists of the leader and his family and the retainers who choose to serve them. The greater the leader, the bigger the flock. Some flocks have thousands of members, some only a dozen or so. The name translates into ‘Kiran Mrak, the First Bird of the Flock Something’. I don’t know that last word.”
“Wraith,” Sean said.
“High aspirations,” Maud said.
“The name was chosen long before Kiran was born,” Sean said. “He controls about three hundred families and a force of roughly two to three hundred mercenaries. He could have many more, but he’s selective in his hiring. It’s not a big flock, but it’s a wealthy one,” Sean continued. “Flock Wraith plays dirty. Kiran took it over from his father twelve years ago, and he’s been busy.”
“What is the nature of his business?” Arland asked.
“Arms dealing, espionage, but mostly assassinations. That last one bit him in the ass.” Sean glanced at me. “Turn the page for me?”
“Next image,” I said.
A new Draziri appeared on the screen, this one old, his skin sagging and wrinkled, his long feather-hair a dark crimson. A gold design was etched into his forehead, a stylized shape of a bird with four wings spread.
“An onizeri?” I murmured. “He killed a high priest?”
Sean nodded.
Wow.
“I thought their society was a theocracy,” Arland said.
“It is,” Sean told him. “The high priests are guarded so well, they’re almost impossible to kill. When contracts on them pop up, the price is always outrageous. Usually nobody takes the bait and if someone does, they don’t come back.”
“So, he’s a renegade,” Caldenia said.
I startled. She had been so quiet, I forgot she was there.
“I didn’t know Wilmos dealt in assassinations,” I said.
“He doesn’t,” Sean said. “He deals in mercenary talent. He doesn’t walk in the shadows, but he knows where to look. Kiran Mrak has made himself quite a name in certain circles.”
“How much money did he make from that kill?” Maud asked.
“Enough to buy a lot of expensive toys,” Sean said. “But I don’t think he did it for money.”
“He did it out of pride,” Caldenia said.
Sean nodded. “He’s the only one on record in the last two hundred years who managed to pull it off. The last assassin who succeeded before Kiran was named Rookar Mrak za Ezara za Krala-Kric.”
“A relative,” Caldenia said.
“Great-grandfather,” Sean said.
“So it’s a family tradition,” Arland said. “Once every couple of generations they kill a holy man just to dissuade anyone from thinking they've wavered in their commitment to crime, murder, and blasphemy.”
“Pretty much,” Sean said. “Some of the families have been with the flock for generations. They’re very good at what they do. What I killed out there tonight was hired muscle. There was only one member of the flock among them and he left me a reminder to take them seriously.”
“In short, we’ve been targeted by a Draziri crime syndicate specializing in murder and willing to assassinate their own priests.” This was just getting better and better.
Maud leaned back and laughed.
I looked at her.
“You don’t do anything halfway,” she said.
“Question.” Arland raised his index finger. “Is he excommunicated?”
“Apparently, the Draziri don’t excommunicate, they condemn,” Sean said. “There are only two ways a Draziri can get into heaven and receive his wings in the afterlife. One requires an exemplary life and a lot of financial contributions. The second requires—”
“Death of a Hiru,” the Hiru said quietly.
“Yes,” Sean said. “Kiran is officially condemned to hell where, according to the Draziri holy texts, he will fall into darkness for eternity while snakes of fire rip his body to pieces, feeding on his insides. Everyone within his flock is condemned with him. All his followers, their spouses, their children, everyone is going to a bottomless hell, unless the flock kill
s a Hiru. If they manage to murder one, every member of the flock, even those who already died in pursuit of the Hiru, will be elevated to heaven.”
“That is a twisted religion,” Arland said.
When a vampire thought your religion went too far, you definitely had problems. “So, he’s desperate.”
Sean nodded. “Desperate, skilled, and well supplied. His people are motivated. He’ll be a pain to kill.”
Great.
“There is a silver lining to all of this,” Maud said. “We don’t have to worry about a full-scale invasion.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because Flock Wraith wants to be the one to kill the Hiru. They’ll keep it quiet. Otherwise they risk losing their target to some other flock. They’re doing this on their own.”
Small comfort. I turned to the Hiru. “Do you have anything to add? Anything that could help us?”
“They will stop at nothing to kill me,” the Hiru said. “They will run through fire. There is no obstacle you can put in their way that will deter them.”
The room fell silent.
“I don’t deal in fire,” I said. “It’s difficult to control and the inn doesn’t like it. But I’m excellent at creating a void field.”
Sean stared at me.
Arland coughed. “A void field requires a high efficiency nuclear reactor.”
“Or an inn with a skilled innkeeper,” Maud told him.
“You can do that?” Sean asked me.
“I already did it,” I told him. “I put it in place as soon as you made it in.”
Arland opened his mouth and closed it without saying a word.
The void field was difficult to maintain, but the area I needed to cover was relatively small and the peace summit had provided the inn with enough power to keep it up for the next few days.
“The void field will stop organic, inorganic, or energy based projectiles,” I said. “It won’t hurt you, but it won’t let you pass through either. Please be aware that none of you can leave the inn grounds. I think we should call it a night. Sleep well. You are safe here.”
Maud hugged me and went on to bed. Arland nodded to me and went to his room. The Hiru left as well.
Caldenia rose from her seat and approached Sean. “Be a dear. Get me everything you can on Kiran Mrak and his employees. And I do mean everything.”
Sean nodded.
“Good night.”
“Good night, Your Grace.”
She went on her way. Orro had disappeared, too. It was just me and Sean now. He got up and walked toward me, stopping just a few inches away.
“You trapped me in the inn,” he said.
“It’s for your own safety.”
“Are you worried about my safety?” There was a hint of a smile hiding in the corners of his mouth.
My heart was speeding up. Too much happened tonight. I wasn’t scared - not exactly - but anxiety ate at me. I had to protect us from the Draziri, and retrieve the rest of the Archivarius, and keep all this a secret. I wanted to stop thinking about it just for a few hours.
Sean stood in front of me, so close that if I reached out, I would touch him. It would feel so good to touch him. It would feel even better to be in bed with him. He would hold me. I knew exactly how it would feel. It would feel safe, warm, and right. If he got in bed with me, I would forget all about the Draziri and the Hiru.
I met his gaze. There was a forest in his eyes, a deep, dark wood and on its edge a wolf waited, wondering if I would coax him out.
It would be so easy. One step, and I could run my hands up his chest to his shoulders. I would throw my arms around him and kiss him, and he would come with me.
Did I want Sean because I wanted him or did I want him because I was scared and exhausted and wanted to feel safe? I couldn’t tell. I wasn’t sure. I needed to be sure.
I was an innkeeper. I always had it together. Saving Maud really got to me. Now wasn’t the time to come unglued. Sean deserved better. I deserved better.
“Good night, Sean.”
The wolf melted back into the woods. “It might have been,” Sean said.
CHAPTER 7
I stood in my kitchen and drank my first cup of coffee. There was nothing quite like that first cup of coffee. For some reason, it always tasted extra delicious.
Morning light streamed through the windows. No clouds dotted the clear sky. It was going to be a beautiful warm day, one of those wonderful days in Texas when nature forgot it was winter and pretended it was May instead.
I had already done my chores for the morning. I checked the perimeter. The Draziri had tried to punch a hole in my force field during the night, but got nowhere. Then I checked on Sean. He was up but still in his room and I didn’t want to intrude. I was a little abrupt last night and I didn’t know how to get around it, so I avoided him and instead went to spring poor Wing out of lock up.
I had unceremoniously shut him in his room last night. Being a pragmatic creature, he decided to play with his TV and watched various TV shows for half of the night. A marathon of Indiana Jones movies and Cops were apparently his favorites. I wasn’t quite sure what to think about that. We’d discussed the Draziri and the force field, and then he’d gone to play in the garage. I had a feeling open warfare wasn’t something Wing looked forward to. On a planet populated with massive dinosaurian creatures, the Ku were lower level predators who sought safety in packs. Their culture was rich with many legends of great warriors who single-handedly brought down larger prey, but in reality they were small and they knew it. They followed large predators, picked off injured or weak prey by running it to ground, and fought in large groups. He asked permission to go play in the garage and I left him to it.
I savored my coffee. By the island, Orro was whipping something in a bowl, holding the whisk with his claws. At the kitchen table, Caldenia sipped her first cup of tea, a content smile on her face.
Arland strode into the kitchen. He was in his “Earth mode,” a loose white T-shirt and dark pants. His blond mane was pulled back from his face into a ponytail. He was carrying his blood mace.
“Lady Dina, Your Grace, Orro, good morning all,” Arland said.
Caldenia inclined her head. Orro grunted something.
“Are you going somewhere, Lord Marshal?” I asked.
“I was planning on engaging in some aerobic activity. For my health. I’m on a retreat after all.”
He was going to put on a big display for the Draziri, who were likely watching the back of the inn. Vampire logic at its best: if you can’t directly attack, then strive to intimidate. He was perfectly safe while within the void force field.
“Would it be helpful if I provided some objects to add variety to your exercise?”
I motioned to the inn. A rack of practice weapons surfaced on the lawn, rising from the ground like a mushroom. Maces, axes, swords, and daggers of all shapes and sizes waited in the rack, each weapon made of a tough, rubber-like substance to match the weight and dimensions of the real thing. They wouldn’t cut, but they still hurt. Maud had once chased me with a rubber sword like that because I’d poured Kool-Aid powder into her conditioner. Maud had always been a hair person. She’d put conditioner on and sit outside by the pool for an hour for “deep conditioning.” I’d learned two important things that day: red Kool-Aid doesn’t wash out of hair and rubber swords hurt.
And now Maud had cut off all her beautiful hair.
Arland grinned. “Lady Dina, you go above and beyond as always.”
“My pleasure.” The weapon rack was at least two hundred years old, but the vampire weapons hadn’t changed a great deal, at least from what I could see.
He marched into the yard, set his mace down, grabbed a halberd from the rack, and spun it around.
I turned around and washed my coffee cup.
“He is such a polite boy,” Caldenia said.
Arland was certainly polite, but once you saw him lop off a vampire’s head with one blow, it put the courtesy in
a whole new light. “You’re up early, Your Grace.”
“It’s a lovely day and we’re under siege. People are trying to murder us.” Her eyes shone with excitement. “Isn’t it marvelous?”
She would think so, wouldn’t she? “They won’t succeed.”
“Of course not, my dear. I intend to ensure they don’t. By the way, just in case one of the corpses happens to land on inn grounds, the Draziri are delicious.”
“Really, Your Grace?”
“Their meat is juicy but bland,” Orro said. “They taste like small fowl and easily take on the flavor profile of the sauce.”
“Have you actually cooked Draziri?”
“Of course!” He drew himself to his full height. “I was a Red Cleaver chef. I have cooked a great many beings!”
Ugh. Forget I asked.
“I never understood why you find the notion of eating sentient creatures so disturbing, Dina,” Caldenia said. “After all, it isn’t cannibalism. There are no health risks, provided the dish is prepared properly.”
I turned to the window. “Wow, look at the sunshine. Isn’t that something?”
Caldenia laughed quietly.
Olasard purred by my feet, arched his back, and rubbed his head on my ankle. I crouched and petted him, scratching behind his ears. He purred louder. His bowl was still full, so it must’ve been actual feline affection.
Helen crept into the kitchen, quiet as a ghost, sat on the floor by my feet, and petted Olasard. He rubbed his face on her. She giggled.
“Is your mom still asleep?”
She nodded. “I’m sneaky.”
“You don’t say.”
“And fierce.” She showed me her fangs.
“Those are sharp fangs.”
She nodded and bit the air.
“Scary,” I told her.
“I won’t bite you, Aunt Dina. You’re nice.”
Outside Arland swung around a massive two-handed hammer and let out a grunt. Helen abandoned me and Olasard and went to the back door.
Arland switched to a sword. He stood still, the sword held downward, then his whole body moved at once, delivering a vicious overhead blow. He cut in the opposite direction, then reversed with devastating power. His feet moved very little, bracing him against phantom counterblows and adding momentum when he wanted to sink the entire weight of his big body into the blow. His attacks came in a controlled, precise cascade.