Blood on the Tide, page 22
But my instincts are never wrong.
I’m about to call for Maeve when she moves back to our table. Her shoulders have dropped to a dejected degree, and she doesn’t pick up the beer that I nudge in her direction. “It’s more of the same. Some of these people came from the Three Sisters to the west, and they haven’t seen them, either. I don’t understand. Historically, that ship likes to stick to this particular route in between hunts. The fact that it’s not is strange. I don’t like it.”
“Must be the new leadership. Maybe they have an entirely new route. We just have to find it.” But I’m still scanning the room, still trying to find the source of the raised hairs at the nape of my neck. I cover Maeve’s hand and bring it up to my face, urging her to lean close enough that I can speak directly into her ear. “One more bar and then we’re done for the night. I think we’ve garnered some attention, so be careful. I’ll handle it if they attack.”
She stiffens but then seems to make a conscious effort to relax. “I hadn’t realized anyone was paying that close of attention.”
“I don’t think they’re in this room. Whoever they are, they’re good at avoiding detection.”
We pay our tab from our dwindling expenses and head for the door. I keep close to Maeve, ready to whisk her out of danger at the first sign that something’s gone wrong. But no one jumps out at us as we move through the increasingly empty streets of Drash. The next tavern is up one level, but it’s late enough that the lift is shut down for the night. We pass it and head for the stairs.
That’s when I hear it. The soft scuff of foot against stone. I don’t turn and look, instead sending my power out in a wave of sensing. No matter how good someone’s magic is, if they have blood in their body, they can’t hide from me.
There. They aren’t too far behind us, and there’s only one of them, which seems to suggest a spy rather than an intent to ambush. Or perhaps they’re an assassin.
I guess we’ll find out.
“Stay in front of me,” I say under my breath.
Maeve gives a jerky nod and shifts to walk directly in front of me. I love her a little more for trusting me and not arguing on principle. We pass building after building as we head for the stairs. I scan the space in front of us, trying to figure out where the person intends to strike. If it were me, I would—
Our stalker chooses that moment to pick up their pace. I push Maeve forward and spin around, grabbing them by their throat and shoving them against the wall. They’re taller than me, but that doesn’t stop me from lifting them until their feet don’t touch the ground. “Who the fuck are you?”
Instead of pissing themself in fear, they let out a strangled laugh. “Nice reflexes.” Their voice drops. “But not quite good enough.”
Something pricks my upper stomach, just below my ribs. I look down to see their fingers embedded in my skin, each digit ending in a claw. Shifter. A strong one at that, since most of their people can’t do a partial shift like this. They could have attempted to take my heart in my moment of hesitation, but they just wait to see what I’ll do.
“Answer my question.”
“Call me an interested party.” Their voice is low but lyrical. Their cloak hood is so deep that I can’t pick out their features in the shadows. Not even with my superior vision. They turn their head to Maeve. “I know you, selkie. You’ve been passing secrets for years.”
This person doesn’t feel like one of the Cŵn Annwn, but what do I know? They’re as varied as grains of sand on the beach, each unique to themselves. And what kind of ruling group would the Council be if they didn’t have a few pet assassins on the books?
But Maeve doesn’t seem to be terrified. She shifts closer and peers up into the hood. “Do I know you?”
“We’ve met once or twice.” They finally shift their fingers from my skin and hold up their hands. “Peace, vampire. I have information you might find useful. You won’t get it if you snap my neck.”
“I really want to snap your neck.” But I can already feel Maeve’s caution warning me not to. At this point, we can’t afford to ignore the possibility of answers. And so I carefully set them on their feet and release them.
They lift a hand to their throat and laugh again. “I appreciate the care. Let’s go somewhere we can talk more privately.”
This is absolutely a trap. I can’t decide if I want Maeve in front of me or behind me, and my indecision makes me furious. “One wrong move and you won’t have a throat to worry about.”
“Noted.” They don’t sound like they’re particularly worried. In fact, the gravel in their voice has already smoothed out as their magic heals the damage I did. Fucking shifters. They heal even faster than vampires, and that’s saying something. Even more inconvenient, they don’t need blood to do so. A bad injury might require a shift into their animal form to handle it, but I barely bruised them.
They lead us down the stairs into a small house that appears to be privately owned. I’m so tense that I’m practically vibrating, ready to spring into violence at the first sign of trouble. But there’s no one in the room, or even in the house. No one except us. The stranger shuts the door between us and the rest of the village.
“I believe some introductions are in order.” They push back their hood, revealing a person with tanned skin, a square jaw, and long straight brown hair. They grin, revealing straight white teeth. “I’m Siobhan.”
I glance at Maeve, willing to take my lead from her. Recognition rolls over her face and all her tension bleeds away. “Siobhan! What are you doing here?” She turns to me, holding out a hand in a way that cautions me to peace. “She’s a trader, though she’s usually not sailing with a crew. She’s come through Viedna a few times over the last few years. Tells some great stories. She’s okay.”
I have my doubts about that. The woman shrugs out of her cloak and drapes it over the chair, revealing a body that’s tall and muscular and looks like she can run through brick walls without slowing down. Trader, my ass. She’s obviously a warrior. Not to mention her instincts are stellar, because even as I was crushing her throat, she was poised to take my heart. That kind of reaction requires training. A lot of it.
“Please. Sit. Like I said, I have information that you might find helpful.”
“In exchange for what?” I ignore Maeve flapping her hands in a bid to keep me quiet. “We both know that nothing comes for free, and if you simply wanted to give us some information, you could’ve done it at any point tonight. Instead, you skulked around and stalked us. Explain yourself.”
Siobhan laughs, flashing teeth that suddenly seem a little bit sharper than they were a few moments ago. “I like you, vampire. Let’s just say that I’m not unaware of your plight and your aims. The Crimson Hag has become a thorn in my side, and I would like it removed. Permanently.”
Maeve’s jaw drops. “Why do you care what the Crimson Hag is up to?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t been perfectly honest with you in our previous meetings. Your work toward the rebellion has been invaluable. Which means that you’ve earned the right to know exactly who’s behind said rebellion.” Siobhan holds out a hand. “Me.”
chapter 29
Maeve
Siobhan is the leader of the rebellion? But that doesn’t make any kind of sense. The few times I’ve met her, she’s looked more like a penniless trader than the kind of person who would inspire loyalty from someone like Nox and the rest of the rebellion. She’s always alone. I’ve never even been quite sure how she gets from island to island, because she doesn’t have a crew herself or a ship. She seems to travel with the wind, though that’s a fanciful thing to think.
But this is Threshold, so perhaps not.
Even so, no one in their right mind is going to claim to be the leader of the rebellion. Not when occupying that role is an automatic death sentence once the Cŵn Annwn crews and the Council become aware the rebellion exists and has been working under their noses for years. And they will become aware eventually. We can only operate in the shadows for so long.
Even with all that in play, there’s one thing I don’t understand. “But why are you here? Why are you revealing yourself to us?”
“Like I said, I have business with the Crimson Hag. They’re currently sailing east to Drash. There was a confrontation at one of the shifting islands a few days ago and they need to restock their supplies before they head south to Lyari.”
I frown. “How could you possibly know any of that?”
Siobhan gives a grim smile that doesn’t reach her hazel eyes. “I wouldn’t be a very good leader of the rebellion if I didn’t have a network of spies passing along information, now would I? A network that you have historically been part of.”
Maybe I was part of that network, but I only ever got rumors from people passing through. What she’s suggesting, being able to anticipate the movements of Cŵn Annwn ships, would be worth its weight in gold if the rest of the network was able to do it. I open my mouth to press for more information but stop short as what she said finally penetrates.
If she’s right, the Crimson Hag is coming here. To Drash.
I glance at Lizzie, expecting to see elation that she’s so close to her goal. She doesn’t seem particularly impressed. She drops into one of the rickety old chairs around the faded dining room table and crosses her long legs in front of her. “What you’re carefully not saying is that you need us to do something to that ship for you.”
“You were already planning on sneaking aboard the Crimson Hag and stealing back what was taken from you.” Siobhan moves into the dingy kitchen and pulls a dusty bottle of wine from an open-faced cabinet. “They have something in their hold that belongs to me. I want it back. Two birds, one stone.”
Lizzie narrows her eyes. “That’s a saying from my realm.”
“Is it?” Siobhan opens the bottle of wine and rifles through the cabinets until she comes up with three tin cups. “It’s an effective metaphor, don’t you think? Why make more work for us individually when we’re stronger together?”
There is something off here. I’ve spent my entire life studying people. In the few times I’ve met Siobhan previously, her body language was loose and relaxed. There’s a new tightness to her shoulders, an edge to her words. I don’t think she’s lying to us, exactly, but she’s very clearly not telling us everything she knows—or everything we need to know.
Lizzie examines her cup of wine, her upper lip curling. “If your information is that accurate, when will the Crimson Hag make port?”
“Tomorrow night if they keep their current pace and don’t have any trouble along the way.”
So soon. Regardless of how formidable the Hag’s crew is, Lizzie will prevail. She’s too damn good not to. Which means that within a couple of days, she’ll have reclaimed her family heirlooms and be on the hunt for a portal home. Her actual portal home was destroyed in a fight between her and Evelyn and Bowen, but that doesn’t mean the way is closed to her. Threshold contains thousands of portals on its thousands of islands, and even more beneath the waves. It may take some trial and error and trust, but I’ve no doubt that Lizzie is savvy enough to find her way home.
My time with her is coming to a close.
I feel the weight of her gaze on me, but I don’t look her way. I’m not certain I can control my expression if I meet her eyes. Not when I’m feeling so suddenly vulnerable and raw.
Instead, I focus on Siobhan. “I’m willing to hear you out, but that’s all I’ll agree to without more information. I support what the rebellion is trying to accomplish, but we both know my role to date has only been gathering information. Asking this of me, even with Lizzie involved, is asking too much on faith alone. So let’s start easy. What did they take from you?”
Siobhan hesitates, and for a moment I think she won’t answer honestly. But she finally throws back her wine and grabs the bottle to refill her glass. “They took someone very important to me—to the rebellion. They intend to bring him to Lyari to stand trial.”
A . . . trial? There hasn’t been a trial in living memory, at least not for a victim of the Cŵn Annwn. They tend to be of the mind that murdering first and asking questions never is the best policy. All they have to do is categorize their victim as a monster, and it’s well within their rights, at least according to the Council. Trials are reserved for nobles.
Nobles.
I narrow my eyes. What is Siobhan doing associating with a noble, let alone doing it in such close proximity that she feels obligated to save him? Or is it a matter of him having information that she doesn’t want to fall into the Council’s hands? Impossible to say, and I don’t think she’d be honest if I asked her.
I take a different route. “What’s his crime?”
Again, that moment of hesitation where it’s clear that she’s considering lying to me. Again, she shows every evidence of telling the truth. “Glamour. Using his powers to charm the Cŵn Annwn.”
Lizzie snorts. “Glamour magic is a dime a dozen. With all the magical people the Cŵn Annwn keep on their ships, they must have the shields to combat that sort of thing. I don’t see why this requires a trial, no matter who this man is.”
I shake my head slowly. “We don’t have glamour magic, Lizzie. Not here. Not in Threshold.” It probably wasn’t always like that, but when the Council took over a very, very long time ago, they couldn’t risk that anyone in the realm might influence or overpower them. According to the whispers that have been passed along for generations, they wanted anyone with a drop of glamour magic removed. Permanently.
That flavor of magic is primarily held by humans, though. They had a hard time convincing the general population these people were monsters who deserved being hunted in order to promote safety for everyone. There was pushback. These days, the regular citizens wouldn’t dare, but back then, the Council was so new that they bowed to popular sentiment.
They didn’t hunt publicly, but when they were through, not a single bloodline that carried glamour magic remained. Or at least that’s how the story goes. I believe it, though. With all the travelers who’ve come through Viedna, I’ve never met someone who could use glamour magic.
“Is he a local?” I finally ask. What am I saying? He must be if he’s being carted back to Lyari to stand trial. More, he must be a noble. But if a noble held the power to glamour, we should’ve heard about it long before now. “Never mind. He obviously is. But I don’t understand. How has he kept it secret long enough to reach adulthood?”
“Glamour is Bastian’s secondary power. It’s not one that he’s ever been public about, but he’s invaluable to the rebellion because of it. I can’t let the Cŵn Annwn take him to Lyari to stand before the Council. More than his life is at stake.”
If he’s close enough to Siobhan for the rebellion to utilize his glamour magic, he’s probably been privy to secrets that could get a large number of people killed. The thought makes me shiver. “If that’s the case, then we need to rally your allies. Nox has an entire ship. Surely they can—”
“No.” Siobhan shakes her head. “The Audacity is easily a week away, and while they are southwest of Drash, enlisting their help means Bastian will be a week closer to Lyari. We won’t have another opportunity to catch the Crimson Hag unawares. You’re here, and you have your murderous vampire with you, so it’s our best chance. His best chance.”
Lizzie motions with the hand holding her tin cup full of wine. “The murderous vampire in question is sitting right here. And all of this sounds like a whole lot of bullshit. If he’s really that powerful, how did he get taken in the first place? Or, more importantly, if he’s so vital, why didn’t you stop the kidnapping?”
“I wasn’t there.” Siobhan sounds downright agonized. “We were supposed to meet up at a particular location and time, but he never showed. When I finally realized what had happened, the Crimson Hag had reached open water.”
That doesn’t quite explain how she got to Drash before the Crimson Hag, but I suppose it doesn’t matter. “That ship is sailing with a pretty intense crew. It was one thing to potentially sneak in and steal back some jewels, but to steal an entire person who’s under guard? It will be a fight, and possibly one we can’t win. You’re asking a lot.”
“I don’t have another choice. Bastian cannot reach Lyari.”
Lizzie examines her fingernails. She’s put on an air of disinterest, but I can see her mind working behind the bored look in her deep brown eyes. There are a dozen ways we could attempt to do this, but no matter which angle I look at it from, the risk is astronomical. Three of us against an entire crew? There’s no way we’ll all survive.
“We have to sink the ship,” my vampire finally says.
I spin to face Lizzie. “We can’t sink the ship.”
“Sure we can. Between your power underwater and this one’s strength.” She motions at Siobhan. “It wouldn’t take much to rip a hole in the hull. The trick is to keep it open so they don’t have a chance to repair it. If they’re close enough to shore, they’ll abandon ship. That’s when we strike.”
“Or, more likely, they’ll realize we attacked them and just flat out murder us,” I snap.
She grins, flashing her sharp teeth at me. “That’s definitely a possibility.”
“The vampire has a point.” Siobhan toys with the string holding her cloak together. “If the crew is in the water, it will be easier to separate the guards holding Bastian and take him back. They won’t leave him to drown. He’s too important a captive.”
They’re jumping right over a very vital portion of this plan. “I’m strong, but I’m not strong enough to break a hole in the bottom of a ship. It’s far more likely that I’ll charge it, knock myself out, and drown.”
