Steel Victory (Steel Empire Book 1) (12 page)

Mikelos reached for Victory, and she stepped closer to take his hand again. “How much blood?” He traced the small bandage decorated with blue stars on the inside of her wrist where she had made the tiny incision with a scalpel snagged from a closet. The night nurse had balked at Victory’s request for the medical supplies, but calling Daliana back upstairs had bypassed the issue.

“A few teaspoons,” she said, entwining her fingers in his. “You’ll be on your feet in no time. We’ll reevaluate in a few hours and see whether we can avoid the surgery.” She kept repeating it to herself: her daywalker was strong. He was not a normal human. Mikelos would heal even faster than Toria had when she broke her leg a few years ago.

“There will be the matter of some necessary physical rehabilitation, but, um, yes.” Dr. Preston’s discomfort rose, as it had earlier when Daliana helped Victory cut her wrist to collect the blood. Victory pitied him, but there wasn’t much choice. It wasn’t like any of the doctors here knew anything beyond the basics about vampire or daywalker physiology. Since they were the only two permanent residents of the sort in Limani, it wasn’t a specialization in much demand. He would do the best he could under the strange circumstances. He cleared his throat. “But until then, we will take excellent care of you.” Saving him from further awkwardness, the pager at his side chirped its insistence. Dr. Preston mumbled his excuses after checking the number.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Victory said, but he had already fled the room. “Poor guy. But he’s a good doctor. Or so Dal assures me.” She couldn’t keep the suspicion from creeping into her voice.

Mikelos smiled up at her. “That’s my girl.” His voice slurred.

He was crashing, hard. The pain medication must be kicking in, and combined with the extra work her shared blood was doing to help heal him, it was no surprise. Healing took a lot out of anyone. Victory tried to lighten the mood. “So, you didn’t put up a very good fight. When was the last time you even picked up your sword? I’ll have to put you back in training with the kids when you’re better.”

“The guy?” Mikelos’ eyes were half open, but he still managed to look questioning.

“In police custody,” Victory said. “He’s got his own set of bruises. I tackled him halfway across the street to get him off you. And Tristan and Lorus got to manhandle him a bit. Probably a bit more than necessary, but I wasn’t about to stop them.” She was nervous, so she rambled. And she was doing it in her head, too. Gods, she must be tired.

“Good. Love you.” At that, Mikelos drifted off, and his grip on Victory’s hand relaxed.

“I love you, too.” Victory placed a gentle hand over his heart to feel the steady, reassuring beat in his chest. The door to the hospital room opened, and she raised a hand to silence the visitor. Not that Mikelos would wake for anything at this point. She pecked a kiss on Mikelos’ lips before standing to greet the newcomer.

“How’s he doing?” Max said, his voice low.

“About as well as can be expected.” Victory gestured for the mercenary to join her on the other side of the room. She reclaimed her perch on the windowsill, and Max took a seat in the uncomfortable plastic chair she had been ignoring earlier. He was welcome to the hideous thing. “He didn’t ask about his violin.”

“He might not remember, and that’s probably a blessing,” Max said. “It’ll hit him pretty hard later, but now he needs to concentrate on healing.” He shifted in his seat, already uncomfortable, but he would never give in and move like she had. He was more stubborn.

“You’re right.” Victory rested her head against the cool glass and stared out across the empty hospital parking lot. “So what’s the news?”

“This guy who attacked Mikelos, Edward MacClellan, has been charged with assault and destruction of property,” Max said. “Unfortunately, no one can prove whether he intended to kill Mikelos, and MacClellan isn’t talking until he gets a lawyer.”

“Figures,” Victory said. “And I won’t be surprised if he gets one. How did the rest of the meeting go? Are Fabbri’s ideas restricted to her, or has she spread this nonsense?”

“Everything I’ve seen in the past few days says so. She’s just the most vocal. And being on the council might make her the de facto leader.”

“The vibe I’m getting isn’t so much that she wants more power,” Victory said, “but that she wants it out of our hands.” She spoke in general terms, speaking for all of the nonelected councilmembers. “She doesn’t seem fond of you, either. Even though you’re human. Well, mostly.”

“Mostly.” He traded smiles with her. “But it’s not surprising,” Max said. “Politically, we’re on your side.”

“But does she want the power to be in the hands of only those who have been elected to the council instead of appointed? Or does she want it only for humans?” Things weren’t making any sense. Maybe Fabbri was plain nuts. But an argument against the woman’s sanity based on whom she let in her restaurant wasn’t quite good enough.

Max studied Mikelos’ still form. “MacClellan implicated Fabbri in Mikelos’ attack. I think it’s safe to say she’s pro-human, not pro-elections. And when I left the station, the police were about to call the new owner of the Twilight Mists for questioning. This might be even bigger than we think.”

“It is bigger than we think,” Victory said. Another soft tap came from the half-open door where Daliana had appeared. Victory waved her in, and the elven woman ghosted across the floor to join them.

Max shifted to the side of his chair, and Daliana perched on the arm. “Ain’t this a regular party? What do you mean, hon?” Max asked.

Ignoring him, Daliana said, “How is he doing?”

“Okay,” Victory said. “He woke up enough to talk to the doctor, but then he conked out again. I thought you were finally heading home?”

“I took a quick consult in the ER for an elven patient,” she said. Her face was grave, and she hesitated before going on.

“Spit it out, girl,” Max said.

“Things are getting bad. Three more people have been brought into the emergency room within the past hour. Two werewolves and an elven girl,” she said. She shook her head in silent anger. “All beaten as badly as Mikelos. One of the wolves even more so, his back might be broken.” Daliana pulled a flier out of her pocket and smoothed it flat. She looked it over again before holding it up for them to see. “He had this.”

The crumpled paper had almost ripped in half. One corner had soaked in blood, now dried to a flaky brownish tint. A simple flier, with an advertisement for a meeting.

DATE: JUNE 27TH

TIME: 6:00 PM

PLACE: TWILIGHT MISTS

WHAT: INFORMAL TOWN HALL MEETING REGARDING THE STATE OF THE LIMANI CITY COUNCIL AND ITS MEMBERS. ALSO FEATURED WILL BE A Q&A SESSION REGARDING CURRENT PUBLIC POLICIES AND THEIR EFFECTS ON LIMANI CITIZENS.

SPONSORED BY: LIMANI HUMANISTS

REFRESHMENTS WILL BE PROVIDED!

“Okay,” Victory said. “That bad vibe went from worse to horrible.” The location of the meeting outraged her more than what it planned to discuss. When she’d sold the club after almost a century of ownership, she never expected it would be used like this.

“Damn.” Max took the flier and studied it. “Yeah, I’ll second that. This comes off as a civil gripe meeting, but if they’re already attacking people, this is going to get a lot worse before it gets better. Impeaching Fabbri and getting her off the council might not fix this.”

“We can’t assume these Humanists are directly responsible for the attacks,” Victory said. She hated to play devil’s advocate. Under normal circumstances, that would be Mikelos’ job, but right now he wasn’t in any position to do it. “These could be more punks operating on their own.”

“One can only hope,” Daliana said. She rose from her seat and began pacing the room.

The elven woman was one of the calmest people Victory knew, able to handle anything with finesse. She had never seen Daliana so worked up. Again, these weren’t normal circumstances. “Well, you said MacClellan was charged. Have they questioned Fabbri?”

“That’s the other problem,” Max said.

Daliana stopped pacing, and both women stared at the mercenary.

“She didn’t,” Victory said.

“She did.”

“Hell,” Victory said.

“Did what?” Daliana asked. “Explain. Or is this some sort of fighter code I’m not privy to?”

“She disappeared,” Victory said. “When?”

“We don’t know. We were busy controlling MacClellan,” Max said. “He tried to kick the glass out of the back window. You two left in the ambulance. By the time both vehicles were off, half the council had wandered back inside, and I figured she’d gone with them. Lena thought she was still outside with me.”

“Perfect.” Victory groaned in exasperation. “Is there going to be an arrest?”

“I asked the cops to stay on the lookout since MacClellan implicated her,” Max said, “but once he shut up, they decided there wasn’t enough evidence. Never mind that the whole council heard what she said to him.”

“So no arrest warrant?” Daliana said.

“Nope.”

“But you do believe that Fabbri set up the attacks?” The elven woman’s green eyes flashed in fury. Victory didn’t want to know what she’d seen in the ER to rouse her this much.

“Hell, yeah,” Max said. “MacClellan didn’t strike me as the type to be imaginative enough to pin this on anyone else. The bastard is proud of what he did.”

Victory resisted her immediate urge to go on the hunt. “So what do we do now?”

The three stared at each other. Max spoke up first. “I’d say it’s time to call a meeting.”

Toria learned in junior high geography class that the southern portion of Limani’s territory had the sparsest population. The reality had never sunk in until this walk home, the sunlight fading around her. Her head still ached, her feet felt like they were being stabbed by hot pokers, and the last time she’d had water was from a small stream at least five miles back.

She cut through woods to get from the road to the manor. Her spirits lifted when she saw her driveway. She felt moisture on her cheeks when the house came into view, and Toria raised her hands to her face.

She laughed, realizing that she was crying in relief. Exhaustion and dehydration were a dangerous combination. Only the gods knew where Kane and Asaron were now. But her parents would be home, and they would make everything better. A childish sentiment, but one Toria clung to while she entered the security code to open the back door. The Romans had even taken her keys.

“Mama!” Toria clutched the doorframe when air conditioned coolness washed over her. Dirt and grime coated her. She needed to dredge up the energy to shower before she could collapse.

No answer. “Dad!” She shut the door behind her, but still no one came running. Maybe they were out? The plan was for Max to tell Mama of their mission at the council meeting last night. They had no reason to expect them back this soon. But what kept Mama out late enough that she had to stay elsewhere for the day?

The kitchen wavered in front of her. With no way to contact her parents, there was no point in going back out and randomly searching. Driving in this condition would be suicide, so she dismissed that idea right off.

Max! Toria used the counter to pull herself over to the kitchen phone. She dialed his direct number at the Hall from memory. She didn’t care whether he’d be angry that she bypassed his aide.

The line rang for a bit. Then, “Hello, you’ve reached the office of Maximilian Asher. I’m not here right now, but you can leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.” A prompt beep followed his businesslike tone.

“Max! I had to walk home. Kane and Asaron got kidnapped by the Romans. They left me by the river and I don’t know where they are. I lost your horse, I’m so sorry.” She was rambling now, and crying, but couldn’t seem to stop. “I don’t know where Dad or Mama are, I don’t know what to do.” The phone cord stretched long when Toria slid down the wall into a heap on the floor. In a whisper, she repeated, “I don’t know what to do.”

With no energy to stand and hang up the phone, she let it drop into her lap. The voice mail registered the silence and started giving her options, but Toria just stared at the phone.

The cool of the tile floor beneath her seeped into her body. After tugging off her boots, she began to feel a little better. She should get some water, take a shower, go to bed, wait for her parents to come home.

In a minute. She could rest for a minute.

A stiff back and tongue tasting like a dust rag were the first things Victory noticed upon waking. But the familiar fingers running through her long hair soothed her. She hummed a sound of bliss in the back of her throat.

She raised her head from the edge of Mikelos’ bed. Her back let loose a loud protest when she sat straight up. “Ouch.” The room was dim, so she switched on the bedside lamp.

“I can’t believe you fell asleep like that.” Mikelos’ good hand dropped back onto his stomach.

“I’ve slept through worse, believe me.” His eyes were brighter now, a definite improvement, but he still looked pale. “How are you feeling, love?”

“Okay,” he said. “What time is it?”

“I have no idea.” Max had sat with her for a while after Daliana left, then helped her scrounge the hall for spare blankets to hang over the window. A faint glow of sunlight shone through the edges of the blanket and showed the day had almost passed. She pulled herself out of the wretched plastic chair and stretched, arching her arms above her head and then out to the sides. Her back complained one more time before settling back into its normal alignment. She checked the clock above the door. “A little before nine. You’ve slept for over sixteen hours. I think I passed out around seven this morning. The nurses were probably glad. I was getting snippy.”