House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City) (87 page)

She was a bloodhound. With that preternatural sense of smell, she’d know better than anyone how to hide a scent—how to detect if any trace of it had remained on her.

“I wasn’t at the gathering. She sought me out while she was there.”

“Why?”

“Because she was researching shifter ancestry. Mine is … unique.”

“You shift into a dog,” Bryce raged. “What’s unique about that?” Even Hunt gave her a disapproving frown. She didn’t care. She was sick of these surprises about Danika, about all the things she’d never known—

“She wanted to know about my shifter ancestry. Really old shifter ancestry that manifested in me after years of lying dormant. She was examining the most ancient bloodlines in our world and saw a name on an early ancestor’s family tree that could be traced all the way to the last living descendant: me.”

“What the Hel could you even tell her if it was that ancient?” Hunt asked.

“Ultimately, nothing. But once we knew we were mates, once we’d sealed it … She started to open up about what she was looking into.”

“Was it about the synth?” Bryce asked.

“No.” Baxian clenched his jaw. “I think the synth was a cover for something else. Her death was because of the research she was doing.”

Through love, all is possible
. One last clue from Danika. To look where she’d stamped the phrase—right on this male.

So Bryce said, “Why did she care about any of this?”

“She wanted to know where we came from. The shifters, the Fae. All of us. She wanted to know what we’d once been. If it might inform our future.” Baxian’s throat worked. “She was also … She told me she wanted to find an alternative to Sabine.”

“
She
was the alternative to Sabine,” Bryce snapped.

“She had a feeling she might not live long enough for that,” Baxian said hoarsely. “Danika didn’t want to leave the wolves’ future in Sabine’s hands. She was seeking a way to protect them by uncovering a possible alternative in the bloodline to challenge Sabine.”

It was so … so
Danika
.

“But after we met,” Baxian went on, “she started hunting for a way into a world where we could be together—since there was no way Sabine or Sandriel, or even the Asteri, would have allowed it.”

Bryce clicked the safety back on the gun and lowered it to the ground.

Baxian said with quiet ferocity, “I was so fucking glad when you killed Micah. I knew … I had this
feeling
that prick was involved in her death.”

Glad someone finally put a bullet through Micah’s head
, Baxian had said when they’d first met. Bryce surveyed the male who’d loved her friend—the male she’d never known about. “Why wouldn’t she have told me?”

“She wanted to. We didn’t dare talk on the phone or write to each other. We had a standing agreement to meet at a hotel in Forvos—I could never get away from Sandriel for long—on a given day every two months. She worried that the Asteri would use me against her to keep her in line, if they found out about us.”

“Did she tell you she loved you?” Bryce pushed.

“Yes,” Baxian replied without a moment of hesitation.

Danika had once claimed she’d only said those words to Bryce. To
her
, not to this … stranger. This male who’d freely and willingly served Sandriel. Hunt had been given no choice in that matter. “She didn’t care that you’re a monster?”

Baxian flinched. “After I met Danika, I tried my best to counteract all I did for Sandriel, though sometimes all I could do was … lessen Sandriel’s evil.” Yet his eyes softened. “She loved you, Bryce. You were the most important person in the world to her. You were—”

“Shut up. Just … shut the fuck up,” Bryce whispered. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Don’t you?” he challenged. “Don’t you want to know all of it? Isn’t that why you’ve been digging around? You want to know—
need
to know what Danika knew. What she was up to, what she kept secret.”

Her face hardened into stone. She said flatly, “Fine. Let’s start with this one, if you knew her so well. How did Danika meet Sofie
Renast? You ever hear that name in all your secret little conversations? What did Danika want from her?”

Baxian bristled. “Danika learned about Sofie’s existence while investigating thunderbird lineage as part of her research into shifters and our origins. She traced the bloodlines—and then confirmed it by tracking her down and scenting her. Being Danika, she didn’t let Sofie walk away without answering some questions.”

Bryce stilled. “What kind of questions?” Hunt put a hand on her shoulder.

Baxian shook his head. “I don’t know. And I don’t know how they pivoted to working together on the Ophion stuff. But I think Danika had some theories about thunderbirds beyond the lineage thing. About their power in particular.”

Bryce frowned. “Do you know why Sofie Renast might have felt the need to carve a series of numbers and letters on herself while she drowned a few weeks ago?”

“Solas,” Baxian murmured. And then he recited the sequence from Sofie’s body, down to the last numeral. “Was that it?”

“What the fuck are you playing at, Baxian?” Hunt growled, but Bryce snapped at the same time, “What
is
it?”

Baxian’s eyes flashed. “It’s a system of numbering rooms used in only one place on Midgard. The Asteri Archives.”

Hunt swore. “And how in Urd’s name do you know that?”

“Because I gave it to Danika.”

Bryce was surprised enough that words failed her.

“Sandriel was the Asteri’s pet.” Baxian turned to Hunt. “You know that, Athalar. She made me serve as escort on one of her visits to their palace. When they brought her down to the archives for a meeting, I saw them go through that door. When Sandriel emerged, she was pale. It was odd enough that I memorized the series of numbers and letters and passed it to Danika later as something to look into. Danika became … obsessed with it. She wouldn’t tell me why, or what she thought might be in there, but she had theories. Ones that she said would alter this very world. But she couldn’t go in herself. She was too recognizable. She knew the Asteri were already watching her.”

“So after she met Sofie, Danika gave her the information, and had Sofie sneak in to investigate,” Bryce murmured. “Since Sofie’s record wouldn’t have shown anything suspicious about her.”

Baxian nodded. “From what I gleaned from the Hind’s reports, it took Sofie three years of work to get in. Three years of spying and going undercover as one of the archivists. I’m assuming she finally found a way to sneak into that room—and ran to Kavalla soon after. By that time, Danika was … gone. She died without ever learning what was in the room.”

“But Sofie did,” Bryce said quietly.

“Whatever she learned was in that room,” Hunt agreed. “That must have been the intel Sofie planned to use as leverage against Ophion—and against the Asteri.”

“Something war-changing,” Bryce said. “Something big.”

“Why wouldn’t this room identifier come up on search engines?” Hunt asked Baxian.

The Helhound tucked in his wings. “The Asteri don’t have any of their palace blueprints on the interweb. Even their library cataloging system is secret. Anything digitized is highly encrypted.”

“And if we had someone who could hack into anything?” Bryce asked.

Baxian again smiled bitterly. “Then I guess you’d have a chance at finding out what was in that room.”

“This is a totally nonsensical way of numbering rooms,” Declan muttered, typing away on the sectional couch in Ruhn’s house. Bryce had run there with Hunt after leaving Baxian in the alley the tunnel had led to, a few blocks from Urd’s Temple. She was still reeling.

She’d turned on her phone to find several missed calls from Tharion. The Viper Queen had given him a heads-up about Ophion—only a few minutes too late. Flynn had nearly thrown a fit when Ruhn had explained what had happened.

At least no word had emerged about their connection to the rebel
attack on Urd’s Temple, as the news was calling it. Pollux, Mordoc, and the Hind were hailed as heroes for stopping Pippa’s forces from desecrating the sacred space. The only failure: Pippa had escaped.

Bryce would deal with that later. Would deal with a lot of other shit later.

Declan scratched his head. “You realize that what we’re doing right now amounts to treason.”

“We owe you big-time,” Hunt said, sitting on the arm of the sofa.

“Pay me in booze,” Declan said. “It’ll be a comfort while I worry about when the dreadwolves will show up at my door.”

“Here,” Ruhn said, handing the male a glass of whiskey. “This’ll start you off.” Her brother dropped onto the cushions beside her. Across the couch, Hypaxia sat next to Ithan, quiet and watchful.

Bryce had let Hunt explain what they’d learned from Baxian. And let Ruhn explain the whole truth to the witch-queen and the sprites, who had draped themselves around Flynn’s shoulders where he sat on Declan’s other side.

But it was to Ithan that Bryce’s attention kept returning. And as Declan focused, Bryce said quietly to the wolf, “Did you know about Danika and Baxian?” His face had revealed nothing.

“Of course not,” Ithan said. “I thought she and Thorne …” He shook his head. “I have no idea what to make of it. I never once scented anything on her.”

“Me neither. Maybe she was able to hide it with her bloodhound gift somehow.” She cleared her throat. “It wouldn’t have mattered to me.”

“Really? It would have mattered to me,” Ithan countered. “To everyone. Not only is Baxian not a wolf, he’s …”

“An asshole,” Hunt supplied without looking up from his phone.

“Yeah,” Ithan said. “I mean, I get that he just saved your hides, but … still.”

“Does it matter now?” Flynn asked. “I mean, no offense, but Danika’s gone.”

Bryce gave him a flat look. “Really? I had no idea.”

Flynn flipped her off, and the sprites
oooh
ed at his shoulder.

Bryce rolled her eyes. Exactly what Flynn needed: his own flock of cheerleaders trailing him at all hours. She said to Flynn, “Hey, remember that time you set a dragon free and were dumb enough to think she’d follow your orders?”

“Hey, remember that time you wanted to marry me and wrote
Lady Bryce Flynn
in all your notebooks?”

Hunt choked.

Bryce countered with, “Hey, remember when you pestered me for years to hook up with you, but I have something called standards—”

“This is highly unusual behavior for royals,” Hypaxia observed.

“You have no idea,” Ruhn muttered, earning a smile from the queen.

Noting the way her brother’s face lit up, then dimmed … Did he know? About Hypaxia and Celestina? She had no idea what else might dampen his expression.

“Where’s Tharion?” Hunt asked, surveying the house. “Shouldn’t he be here?”

“He’s upstairs,” Ruhn said. They could fill Tharion in later, she supposed. And Cormac, once he’d finished with whatever his father wanted.

Declan suddenly cursed, frowning. Then he said, “There’s good news and bad news.”

“Bad news first,” Bryce said.

“There’s no way in Hel I can ever hack into this archival system. It’s ironclad. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s gorgeous, actually.”

“All right, tone down the fanboying,” Ruhn grumbled. “What’s the good news?”

“Their camera system in the Eternal Palace is
not
ironclad.”

“So what the fuck does that get us?” Hunt asked.

“At the very least, I can confirm whether Sofie Renast ever gained access to that room.”

“And where that room might be,” Bryce murmured. Ithan and Hypaxia both nodded. “All right. Do it.”

“Settle in,” Declan warned. “We’re in for a long night.”

Ithan was dispatched to get Tharion after an hour, and Bryce was rewarded with the sight of a sleep-tousled mer entering the living room wearing nothing but his jeans.

Tharion plopped onto the couch beside Hypaxia, slinging his arm around the queen’s shoulders and saying, “Hi, Pax.”

Hypaxia waved off the mer. “Sleeping all afternoon?”

“Life of a playboy,” Tharion said. Apparently, they’d become fast friends during the Summit. Bryce might have wondered if there was more between them, had she not found the witch with the Archangel the night before. She wondered if Tharion knew.

Wondered if it rankled her brother that the witch and the mer had stayed in touch since the Summit, and he’d had only silence from her. Ruhn didn’t so much as frown.

Around midnight, Declan said, “Well, holy shit. There she is.”

Hunt nearly trampled Ruhn as they hurried over. Bryce, of course, made it to Declan’s side first, and swore. Hunt shoved Ruhn out of the way with an elbow and claimed the seat next to his mate. Ithan, Tharion, Hypaxia, and Flynn—sprites in tow—pressed in around them.

“She looks so young,” Hunt murmured.

“She was,” Ruhn said. Dec had pulled up the photo from Sofie’s old university ID and had the program search for any faces that resembled hers in the footage.

Bryce had tried to call Cormac, but the prince hadn’t answered his phone.

So they kept silent as Declan played the footage of the wood-and-marble subterranean library. From the camera mounted on the ceiling, they could see Sofie Renast, clad in some sort of white uniform that could only belong to one of the archivists, stalk by the ancient shelves.

“Door Seven-Eta-Dot-Three-Alpha-Omega,” Declan said, pointing to a wooden door beyond the shelf. “You can make out the writing faintly beside it.”

They could. Sofie slipped inside the room, using some sort of ID card to bypass the modern lock, then shut the carved door behind her.

“Fifteen minutes pass,” Declan said, zooming ahead. “And then she’s out again.” Sofie walked from the room the same way she had entered it: calmly.

“She doesn’t have anything on her,” Hunt observed.

“I can’t make out anything under her clothes, either,” Ruhn agreed.

“Neither did the computer,” Declan said. “She carried nothing in, nothing out. But her face is white as death.” Just as Baxian claimed Sandriel’s had been.

“When is this dated?” Bryce asked. Hunt squeezed her knee, like he needed to touch her, remind himself she was here and safe with him.