Serpent's Kiss (30 page)

“Let’s focus on snakes,” Rune said.

Seremela said, “Mundane snake venoms essentially fall into two categories: the hemotoxic, which is poisonous to the circulatory system, and the neurotoxic, which is poisonous to the nervous system. At the risk of oversimplifying, the snake or serpent species usually intends to subdue its prey.”

Carling looked up. “Your head snakes are poisonous.”

“Yes,” Seremela said. “My snakes carry venom that induces paralysis, although if you take a dose from a single bite, the poison isn’t terribly toxic. A human would experience some numbness and lethargy, along with pain and swelling around the area of the bite. Some might get nauseated as well. Generally there would be no need for a dose of antivenin, unless the victim was a child or went into anaphylactic shock. If I was attacked and my snakes were badly frightened, however, they might bite repeatedly, and that could lead to someone dying. Wyr are more immune than humans. If Rune would consent to hold still and let himself be bitten for a couple of days, the venom from my head snakes could eventually stop his heart.” She looked at Carling. “And a medusa’s snake venom has no apparent effect on Vampyres.”

“What about other serpent creatures in the Elder Races?” Carling asked.

“Well, then you add in the extremely unpredictable element of Power,” Seremela said. “The venom from my snakes is mundane; the snakes are just attached to my head, that’s all. We share a sort of symbiotic connection that has some empathy, a very crude kind of telepathy but no real exchange of language, and the poison is just poison. I really hesitate to speculate about another creature, especially one as Powerful an immortal as Python would have been.”

“The Egyptian priestess you spoke to indicated there was some kind of social contract with the serpent goddess,” Rune said to Carling. “So Python must have interacted with the group. It sounded like there was some level of caring involved, or at least worship.”

“Venom, paralysis, time. Some general themes are coming together,” Carling muttered. “As I recall, the priestess talked about Python caring for her children, giving them the kiss of life that was also death. Maybe Python knew her bite would halt the progression of their mortality. Whatever the motivation or reality, it doesn’t matter.”

“Why do you say that?” Rune asked. His eyes were narrowed.

Carling leaned forward, put her elbows on her knees and dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. She had studied both poisons and sorcery. No wonder her healing spells had only worked to stave off the episodes for a time. The healing spells she had given herself were “cure-alls.” In order to create anything more targeted or specific, she would have needed to know the original properties of what she tried to heal. She said dully, “What exists in Vampyres’ veins mutated a very long time ago. It’s a product of the original source as it interacted with the human immune system. We don’t have any of Python’s original venom, so we can’t create any antivenin.”

“What about a more generalized antivenin?” Rune asked, his voice tense.

Carling was shaking her head even as Seremela said, gently, “For something that Powerful and specific, and for the amount of time you indicated you might have left, I’m afraid that would be an exercise in futility. It would take years of experimentation and drug trials. Don’t waste your time.”

Rune’s tension increased. The force of his emotion blasted along Carling’s nerve endings. She said to him, “I know what you’re thinking. Going back again won’t work. I never met Python, and the episodes are too short for you to go looking for her on your own.”

He said roughly, “I can keep going through until I learn how to go back on my own.”

She shook her head. “And risk further changes to this timeline? That’s too dangerous. We said we would stop. We’ve got to stop.”

As Rune opened his mouth to argue, he took note of how her shoulders slumped in discouragement. The line of reasoning in their conversation was a bitter blow to him. How much harder was it for her to hear, after she had borne the brunt of so many disappointments for so long? He bit back what he had been about to say. “Let’s set that aside for now. I think our next step is to go to Louisville and talk to the new Oracle. We need to hear what she has to say, especially if she’s another one of Python’s children.”

She sighed and said, “Yes, we need to go.”

Seremela said quietly, “Would you like for me to examine you while I’m here? I don’t know that I can add any more to what you already know, but this is such a serious issue I really would feel better if we pursued every avenue we have open to us.”

Carling nodded. She let her hands drop away from her face. “It makes sense.”

Rune looked at his iPhone. He asked, “Do you need me for this? Because if you don’t, I’ve got something I need to do.”

Carling turned to him. “No, of course not. What are you going to do?”

“I need to make that phone call,” he said.

C
arling scooped up her leather bag and led Seremela into one of the bedrooms. Rune listened to the soft sound of their voices as they talked before he picked up his cell. He hit Dragos on speed dial.

Dragos picked up on the first ring, “There you are. What took you so long?”

“This is the first chance I’ve had to call you,” Rune said.

“It’s been a long day. In fact it’s been a long day for a while, and a lot has happened. Carling and I just returned earlier today from an Other land.”

Dragos said, “Can she overhear you right now?”

Rune glanced at the closed bedroom door. “No,” he replied. “Look I have some things I have to tell you.”

Dragos said, “Later. Has she bound you with that favor you owed her, or restricted your ability to act in any way?”

The pointed question threw Rune off track. “No,” he said again. “Forget about that, it’s no longer important. Listen—”

“All right,” Dragos interrupted. “Here’s what has been happening in the rest of the world. I’ve been consulting with the Nightkind King, and also with other members of the Elder tribunal. Julian had quite a tale to tell. Apparently Carling’s been blanking out and affecting the physical landscape around her. Have you seen any of this for yourself?”

Rune set his teeth. “Yes,” he said. “That’s what we’re dealing with right now. What else did that bastard say?”

“He petitioned the tribunal to remove Carling as Councillor for the Nightkind demesne. He claimed she’s no longer fit to hold office. They agreed with him. I talked with Jaggar and Councillor Soren. Carling’s been removed from the Elder tribunal.”

Jaggar was the Wyr Councillor on the Elder tribunal. Soren was the Demonkind Councillor and head of the tribunal. If Carling was no longer a tribunal Councillor, she no longer had the authority or the weight of the Elder tribunal behind her. If anything happened to her, the Elder tribunal would no longer act in retaliation. She was now completely isolated, without anyone backing her. Julian had just set her up to take her out. Rune’s hand tightened on the phone. He heard something crack.

He said evenly, “Is there anything else?”

“Yes,” Dragos said. “The other gryphons are weirded out. They’ve insisted three times now that something has changed, twice over the weekend and once today. Only they can’t verbalize what that is, they just know something has happened. Graydon said it was like reality had shifted, only he couldn’t tell what might have changed. Have you experienced anything like that?”

“Look, you’re going to have to let me get a word in edgewise here,” Rune said between his teeth. “Yes, Carling and I have caused some things to happen—”

“Three times?” Dragos said. “You and she caused something to happen—you caused
reality to shift
three times?”

“Let me fucking explain what we did,” Rune bit out.

But the dragon’s anger was roused. He growled, “When Carling blanks out, she affects the landscape around her. Then you and she do something that Bayne, Constantine and Graydon felt all the way from here in New York, and you did it not once but
three times
? What the fuck did you do?”

Rune looked out the window at the spray of stars and electric lights. We changed history, he thought. We changed each other. We changed the world.

“Tell the other gryphons not to worry,” he said. “It’s going to be all right.”

“It better by-gods be all right,” Dragos said grimly. “Tell me about the rest of it later. I want you out of there, immediately.”

“I can’t do that, Dragos,” Rune said quietly. He stared out the window as he watched the end of his life approach.

“You said Carling had not restricted your movements,” Dragos said.

“She hasn’t.”

“Then you can do it. Julian’s preparing to take Carling out, and I don’t want you anywhere near that fallout when it hits.”

“She was a good ally to you,” Rune said to the male who had just become his former friend.

“Yes she was, but the Wyr can’t be involved in this problem too. We’ve still got border tensions with the Elves, and we’ve involved ourselves too deeply in the Dark Fae problems for too long. We’re overextended, understaffed and short on political tolerance. And anyway, I don’t blame Julian. If someone was that unstable and posted that kind of threat to my demesne, I would be making moves to do the same thing. So get out of there and get your ass home.”

“No,” Rune said.

That was when the dragon’s voice got very quiet. “I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“You heard me correctly.”

“What do you mean, no? Have you lost your fucking mind?”

“I mean no. I quit. Effective right now.”

“You can’t quit. I won’t let you.”

“Think I just did,” Rune said.

“You’re making a very big mistake,” growled the Lord of the Wyr.

“What’s that you say, Dragos? I can’t hear you. You’re breaking up,” Rune said as he crushed his iPhone.

EIGHTEEN

I
n the bedroom, Seremela tactfully looked out the window as Carling stripped. Carling had lost all vestige of modesty within her first hundred years of existence, but for the doctor’s sake, she slipped on a hotel bathrobe. Then she patiently put up with a very thorough medical examination.

“I’m not sure what to make of this,” Seremela murmured. “But your temperature is elevated.”

“Is it?” Her eyebrows rose. “By how much?”

“A good five degrees. No doubt you already know that Vampyres tend to reflect the temperature of their surroundings, which in most rooms tends to be around seventy to seventy-two degrees. You’re running hot at seventy-six point five.” Seremela popped the plastic off her thermometer and tucked the thermometer away in her physician’s bag.

Carling bit back a smile. “I have been in close contact with Rune for quite a while, and he’s like a furnace.”

The medusa looked down. “I imagine so. He cares for you a great deal.” There was a trace of wistfulness in Seremela’s voice, and more than a trace in her emotions.

Carling’s impulse to smile faded. She said quietly, “I am his mate. The timing is inconvenient.”

The medusa’s head came up. Her eyes had gone wide with a stricken compassion. “Oh gods, this is doubly difficult then.”

“Yes.”

Seremela sighed. “Physically you appear just fine, Councillor. Your Power is very interesting to me, but since we’ve just met, I have no way to gauge or assess it. All I know is it hasn’t fluctuated while I have been in your presence. And I wish I could take blood and do some testing, but I don’t have medical privileges at any facilities here.”

Carling said, “At its root, Vampyrism is a blood condition, so it seems highly probable that any original venom would have been hemotoxic in nature.”

“That’s what I think too,” said Seremela.

Carling said, “Ingesting blood is also the only way Vampyres can take in nourishment, at least until they hit the stage I’m in.”

“If it’s all about the blood, then my guess is that blood will also hold the key.”

All about the blood. Carling nodded thoughtfully. She knew very well that feelings weren’t scientific, but it felt right to her, felt true.

Seremela studied her. “And you haven’t taken in any physical nourishment in almost two hundred years?”

“That’s correct,” Carling said. “Drinking blood began to make me violently ill. Let me tell you, throwing up gouts of blood is not a pleasant experience.”

Seremela winced. “I imagine not. Did your succubus abilities appear before or after you lost your ability to tolerate ingesting blood?”

“Some time afterward. I went through a couple of weeks of feeling weak and lethargic, and I ached all over,” Carling told her. She set aside the bathrobe and dressed again in the jeans and flirty T-shirt. “It reminded me a little of when I was first turned, actually. I would get hungry and try to drink, and then it would all come back up again. I finally lost the desire to try. Then some time later I realized I could sense what other living creatures were feeling. The stronger the emotion, the more revitalized I felt. By then I had heard stories of the oldest of us becoming succubi, otherwise I would have been more frightened than I was.”

Seremela sat down in the bedroom’s chair. “It sounds possible that becoming a succubus was a defense response from your mutated immune system. You lost the ability to process your normal form of nourishment, and your body responded accordingly.”

“It certainly sounds possible,” Carling said. She liked how the doctor processed information.

“If this progression is as logical as cause-and-effect, if we could find some physical nourishment that you could tolerate, we might be able to put you into a holding pattern,” Seremela said. “We need to get you into some kind of remission. Perhaps we can’t achieve an absence of all symptoms, but we need to at least try to halt any advancement. It could buy us some much-needed time.”

“That’s an excellent point,” Carling said slowly. “I’ll keep it mind. In the meantime, why don’t you take a little blood and I’ll put it in stasis. That will preserve it until you can get it refrigerated properly.”

“Excellent,” Seremela said with satisfaction.

After the medusa had drawn a vial and Carling had spelled it, she turned to her leather bag to open it and pull out the tube containing the papyri scrolls of her sketches of Python. She took them over to a dresser and beckoned Seremela over as she unrolled them on the dresser’s flat surface.

The medusa breathed, “These are incredible.”

Carling watched the other woman’s face as she reached out to touch the edge of the top scroll with reverence. Seremela’s pleasure was like a keen, bright light. Carling said, “I want you to take these.”

Seremela’s eyes went wide. Both she and all her head snakes looked so shocked, Carling had to bite back the sudden urge to chuckle.

“I couldn’t accept these,” Seremela said. Then, in a stricken whimper, “Could I?”

“Of course you could,” Carling said. “Talking with you has been incredibly helpful. It’s been a comfort as well.”

“It’s been a privilege to meet you and help in any way I can.” Seremela touched the edge of the top sketch again. “You shouldn’t feel like you need to give these to me.”

“Consider it my way of saying thanks,” Carling said. “And honestly I think you’ll enjoy them so much more than I do. I haven’t thought about or looked at them in centuries, until Python came up in conversation with Rune.”

“This is a hell of a thank-you,” Seremela said. “Rune had mentioned something about paying me for my travel expenses and my time. If I do accept these sketches, I don’t want to hear any more talk of payment. All right?”

Carling said, “If that’s the way you need to give yourself permission to enjoy them, I’m not going to argue with you.”

Seremela laughed and clapped her hands. “Then thank you, yes, I accept.”

Carling smiled as she rolled up the sketches, slid them back in the tube and handed it to Seremela, who perched the tube on top of her physician’s bag between the straps. Both women were smiling as they walked out of bedroom to find Rune still dressed in black and armed for war.

He wore two guns in shoulder holsters and a short sword strapped to his back. He had changed out of his sleek dress shoes and now wore steel-toed boots. As Carling and Seremela entered the living room, he was just rolling up his sleeves and strapping leather armbands with throwing stars to his forearms.

After she took one thoughtful look at him, Carling didn’t waste time asking for an explanation. Instead she turned her attention to Seremela. “We need to get you out of San Francisco.”

“And we need to do that as fast as possible,” Rune said. He yanked the straps closed on one armband and began to fasten the other.

“What’s happened?” Seremela said. The medusa looked frightened.

“Never mind, Seremela,” Rune told her. His expression had turned killer cold, but his voice remained calm. “This doesn’t concern you. The less you know about things, the better.”

Carling said, “I’m going to call Khalil and use that last favor. He’ll see that she gets home safely.”

“Sounds good,” Rune said. “Then you and I can take off.”

A loud knock sounded on the suite door. “Nightkind SFPD,” a male said in a voice meant to carry. “Open up.”

Rune said to her, “Call him.”

She spoke the words that were the spell that sent the call spearing into the night.

The knock at the door turned into pounding. “Sentinel Ainissesthai, we know you’re in there. You need to come into the precinct with us for questioning.”

“Get in the bedroom,” Rune said to Carling and Seremela. He positioned himself in front of the door.

Carling grabbed Seremela’s arm and marched her into the bedroom as the cyclone blew into the suite. At the bedroom door, she glanced back to see Rune throw himself at the door, bracing it with his shoulder against the kick from the hall that was meant to break it down.

Khalil materialized in front of her gaze. He looked over his shoulder at Rune then turned to her. The Djinn’s spare, elegant features were sharp with interest.

Carling twisted, hauling Seremela bodily around. She shoved the medusa unceremoniously into Khalil’s arms, physician’s bag and all. “Take her to Chicago,” she said. “See that she gets home safely.”

Behind Khalil, she saw Rune brace his whole body as another kick slammed against the door. “The doorjamb is breaking,” Rune said. “I can’t hold it for long.”

Khalil raised an eyebrow. He looked mildly incredulous. He asked, “Are you sure this is how you want to spend your last favor?”

“Yes, goddammit,
GO!
” she snapped. She didn’t wait to watch the cyclone blow away with Seremela. Instead she sprinted into the bedroom. Moving as fast as she could, she tore into her suitcases, looking for any weapons Rufio may have provided, cursing herself for not thinking to specify what he should pack. She really had relied on Rhoswen too much and for far too long.

Ah, bless you, Rufio. Two stilettos. Her weapon of choice for close fighting. She snatched them up in their leather sheaths. She wished she had a gun as well for backup, but the most effective long-range weapons she had were her offensive spells. She briefly considered shoes and more protective clothing, but then she heard a sharp splintering and the sound of snarling from the other room and she turned to race back into the living room.

Rune was fighting hand-to-hand in a whirlwind melee with a sixteen-foot-tall troll, and three ghouls. Though the word “ghoul” was etymologically descended from
gallu
, the Mesopotamian term for demon, ghouls were nevertheless Nightkind creatures. They blistered easily in strong sunlight, and were inhumanly strong and fast, and if they got someone pinned, their Power could consume their victim’s flesh. The massive, gray-skinned troll was not as fast as were the ghouls, but she had a strength that could crush boulders. If she managed to catch up with Rune, she could kill him with a single solid blow to the head.

Rune had partially shifted into the golden monster. He moved with such speed, she could barely track him. He slashed out with both talon-tipped hands, and blood spurted from two of the ghouls.

The troll went down on her hands and knees, fished around with one tremendous hand, and caught hold of one of Rune’s ankles. He lifted his free foot to smash his steel-toed boot into her face. The troll blinked and grunted, but held on.

Carling sighed and spoke the words that iced the air, and stillness spread over the knot of fighters. The troll still looked pained, and two of the ghouls bore deep, bleeding claw marks. The third ghoul was in the process of pulling his regulation gun. Carling walked over to appropriate the gun for herself as Rune’s Power surged against her spell. He shook his head, swearing, and yanked his ankle out of the troll’s grip.

“That spell of yours is beginning to grow on me,” he growled. Rune turned away from the frozen knot of Nightkind fighters, his face and body settling back into more normal lines as he walked over to her.

Carling tilted her face up for his swift kiss. “It’s not their fault,” she said. “I’m assuming they’re just following orders.”

Rune might no longer look like the monster caught in midshift, but his eyes glowed with a flat, wicked light. “Julian’s orders,” he spat. “He’s trying to get me out of the picture and isolate you. He got you fired, baby. You’re no longer a Councillor on the Elder tribunal, but I notice he did not come to deliver the news to you in person.”

Anger clogged her throat so that she could barely speak. She said, “He can’t. He’s my direct progeny, and if we get close enough together, I can still command his obedience. I assume you found all this out when you talked to Dragos?”

“Yes,” he said. He put his arms around her, and she leaned against him. He was an inferno, throwing off more body heat than ever, and against her mind’s eye he glowed molten with rage. “He ordered me home, I quit, and he didn’t take it well.” He glanced toward the bedroom. “Seremela’s gone?”

“Yes.” She leaned her forehead against his broad shoulder. “Rune, I’m sorry about Dragos.”

A sigh shuddered through him. He rested his cheek on the top of her head. “I’m sorry about Julian. But forget about them for now. Grab what you need to take with you. We’ve got to get out of here.”

She nodded and strode over to take the guns from the other two frozen ghouls. The troll did not carry a gun. Her eyesight was too weak, and her hands too large to make effective use of a handgun. When Carling turned around again, she found Rune had scooped up his duffle and her leather bag. He had also appropriated a butterscotch-colored leather jacket for her, along with matching flat-heeled leather boots.

“Here.” He tossed the boots at her. “These’re more sensible than the Christian Louboutin boots but alas, not nearly as much fun.”

She caught them and bent over to yank them on. “Fun can happen later.”

A sudden grin slashed across his face. “Later, and again, and repeatedly, I hope,” he said. “You promised. I might have stuffed one of your caftans into my duffle too, in case you want it for later.”

She straightened and gave him a lopsided smile. “You know that hairy bespectacled T-shirt you threw in the trash?” He raised his eyebrows and she nodded to her leather bag.

“Then it sounds like we got all we need, baby,” Rune said. He gave her a hard kiss. “This next bit is tricky but doable. Climb on my back and I’ll take a running launch out the balcony. I’ll shift in midair, so you need to hang on.”

There was stealthy movement in the hall. Several creatures were approaching. She opened up her arms and gestured to Rune impatiently. “You just get us in the air,” she said. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll hang on.”

He gave her that white, wild smile of his, tossed the bags at her and turned his back to her. She slung the bags onto one shoulder and leaped at him, arms around his neck and legs around his waist. As soon as she was firmly riding piggyback, he turned and sprinted for the open balcony doors.

She had seen the power in his running launch, felt the power in his launch from both sea and land. This was something altogether different. This had the roar of a Harrier jet as it shot off the short deck of an aircraft carrier ship. Each of his long, powerful strides shoved them off the Earth, faster and faster, until he took a springboard jump off the wrought-iron balcony and leaped up into the air with his arms outstretched.