The Wicked (7 page)

“I don’t feel all right,” she confessed. Her fists remained clenched in his T-shirt. “I really want to go to him. I don’t, but I do.”

“Dammit,” he muttered. He wanted to punch something. Someone. He tightened his arms around her.

And somehow, in spite of all that, he liked the fact that she had reached for him when she needed to, and that she still held on to him.

He was a dickhead.

On the dock, Julian and Phaedra remained locked in their standoff, their individual Powers clashing like thunder against Sebastian’s magical senses.

This time when Julian smiled, it was like watching a sword being drawn. “Our Power is designed to draw and trap our prey,” he said. “In a few of us, the trait develops quite significantly as we age. You cannot dematerialize when I have a hold on you, Djinn.”
 

Phaedra’s expression never changed, and she gave back to the Nightkind King hardness for hardness, blade for blade.

She told him, “I have no intention of dematerializing. I am not, nor will I ever be, your prey. Leave the human alone, explain your presence and then leave.”

Eyes glowing red, one of the ghouls hissed, “How dare you lay hands upon our King and speak to him in such a fashion?”

Sebastian wasn’t very good at distinguishing individual features among ghouls, but he thought this one was female, and she wore the uniform of a captain. The ghoul prowled forward, followed by the other Nightkind, closing in on Phaedra and Julian.

The Djinn’s eyes went supernova, blazing as bright as any other beacon in the night. She said, “You would be wise to listen to me. My grandfather is Soren, first generation Djinn and head of the Elder tribunal. My father is Khalil, prince of the House Marid, the strongest of all five of the Djinn Houses. Do you really want to make war upon me and my associations?”

Sebastian almost wished he had a bowl of popcorn. He could watch the shit they threw down all night. But Olivia’s distress was deep and genuine, and nothing of what had just happened had anything to do with the job he had promised Carling that he would do.

He rubbed Olivia’s arms as he raised his voice. “Phaedra, back down.”

The Djinn’s attention snapped to him, her eyes glowing like lampposts. Clearly not happy at the order, she scowled. Then she snapped open the fingers she had closed around Julian’s throat, displayed her flattened hand in front of Julian’s face and pulled it away.

She had no shortage of attitude. Sebastian would give her that. Phaedra was definitely a loose cannon and, as Olivia said, she was clearly not housebroken, but he liked her more now than he had before.

He turned his attention to Julian. “Please unhand my Djinn.”

Julian cocked his head to one side as he contemplated Phaedra. “I’ll get my hands on you again one day.”

She smiled at him. The expression was a remarkably nasty one, a mere widening of the lips on a very cold face. “When that happens,” she said, “I will not be bound by my word to obey someone else. Then we will see what comes next, Vampyre.”

Julian did not just let go of Phaedra. He shoved her hard. Her physical form flew back in the air, but before she could impact the hull of the yacht, she dissipated in a swirl of black smoke.

When Julian turned to look up at them again, Olivia flinched away, averting her head to focus her attention on the body of the yacht. Sebastian felt again that wild, violent upsurge of emotion, a combination of fury at Julian for frightening her so much and the very real desire to do him damage.

He said through his teeth, “I take it that you had some point in coming here tonight.”

“Yes, I did,” said Julian. “I know that most of your crew are enjoying the many fine things my city has to offer, at places like the Rockit Room, the Red Devil Lounge, the Club Deluxe and the Hemlock Tavern.”

Sebastian went rigid. Julian had specific locations on every one in his crew. When the Nightkind had arrived, Sebastian had taken note that Xavier del Torro, Julian’s second, was absent from the group. Now he thought he knew why. Julian had his crew followed.

Bailey
, he said.
Did you get through to everyone?

Just finished calling
, she said.
They said they would return ASAP.

They would, if Julian allowed them to.

“What do you want?” he snapped.

Once Phaedra had dematerialized, the Nightkind King’s attendants had relaxed. Julian slipped his hands into his pockets and turned to stroll along the slip closer to Sebastian and Olivia.

Julian said, “Usually the Elder tribunal is careful to close loopholes and contain all contingencies, but occasionally their edicts hold certain omissions. Here is a case in point. If your crew does not make the initial crossover within three—well, now it is nearing two—days Carling loses all rights to any of her property on the island. That deadline is non-negotiable. There is no provision for you being unavoidably detained. For example, the police can take your crew in for questioning in relation to various crimes that have occurred in the city this evening. They can detain them for up to forty-eight hours without booking them.”

Sebastian very gently let go of Olivia to face Julian. He gripped the railing with both hands, struggling with the desire to throttle the Nightkind King himself. He growled, “Why the
fuck
would you do that? Are you that petty?”

At his angry words, a couple of the ghouls snarled and stepped forward.

Julian waved them back, and said, “Actually, I have no desire to do that.” He stood in a casual stance, hands still in his pockets as he tilted his head back to stare up at Sebastian. “Carling has invested a lot of time and energy into collecting that library over the centuries, and I don’t care if she retrieves it. I do care about making sure she hasn’t used retrieving the library as an excuse to implement some other agenda in my demesne.”

“For God’s sake, like what?”

“I don’t know. But if you think she is not capable of such subterfuge, you don’t know Carling at all.” Julian pulled his hands out of his pockets. “So here is the deal. I am going to search your yacht quite thoroughly, and you are going to let me. Of course, if you choose not to allow it, I won’t be able to promise that your people will make it back in time to make the deadline.”

Sebastian clenched his hands on the railing so tightly, his fingers went numb. He forced himself to take deep, even breaths. Olivia put a hand on his back. He didn’t know her well enough to interpret what she was trying to communicate, but her touch had the odd effect of calming him down. Just a little.

“Fine,” he said. “On one condition.”

Julian’s people were so confident they had already started forward, which infuriated him, but they stopped again almost immediately.

Julian raised his eyebrows. “And that is?”

“You do exactly what Phaedra said,” Sebastian told him, his voice clipped. “You do not meet this woman’s eyes.” He pointed at Olivia. He didn’t care if it sounded or appeared rude. Olivia was already vulnerable to Julian, and Sebastian would be damned if he made that worse by giving Julian her name. “You do not talk to her. Not physically. Not telepathically.”

“Well,” said Julian. The King’s voice had turned wry. “At least I can promise that I won’t talk to her any more than I already have.”

A half an hour later, a raging Sebastian paced in his cabin.

His room was easily three times the size of the others, with a wide cabin window, a double bed that he could fold up against the wall when he wanted to, and a desk that was built into the other wall. Still, he could only get a good five paces in before he had to whirl around and return.

The Nightkind guards had searched his cabin first with an insulting thoroughness. Now Olivia sat in the chair at his desk while they searched the rest of the yacht and Bailey dealt with them on her own.

Phaedra surrounded the cabin with her presence, filtering out all evidence of Julian’s presence and sealing Olivia and Sebastian inside a protective bubble. The Djinn’s presence felt heavy and sullen against his senses and did something weird to the air pressure in the room. He kept expecting his ears to pop.

None of the crew who had gone out that evening had returned yet.

“Goddamn bastards,” he muttered under his breath. “They could do this for the rest of the night.” For the next two nights. He had kept his word, but that didn’t mean that Julian would. If Carling was capable of deceit and subterfuge, so too was her errant progeny. “Tell me again what he said to you.”

“I’ve already told you three times. He said I could go to him if I wished. That’s all.”

But if she was still under Julian’s thrall, was she telling the truth?

He glanced at Olivia and caught her surreptitiously wiping at her eyes with her head bent. That stopped him in his tracks. He strode over to squat in front of her. “Are you all right?”

She turned her face away and said, “Of course I am.”

She lied with such composure and dignity, it blew apart all of his rage. He took hold of her chin and turned her face gently back to him.

Tears swam in her eyes.

He took a deep breath. His voice calm and quiet, he said, “Let’s try that again. I will ask, ‘Are you all right?’ And this time you will tell me the truth.”

“I feel humiliated,” she said, very low. “I’m supposed to be intelligent. I’m very well educated. I am really good at my job.”

“You are superb at your job. I don’t have to see you in action to know that. You wouldn’t be on this trip otherwise.” He took both her hands. She still felt chilled. He cupped them between his own, trying to warm them up. “And so?”

“I thought I was a strong person,” she began. “I’ve never had such a reaction to a Vampyre before, and I’ve encountered them countless times. I’ve helped dozens of them at the library without a single problem…”

“Stop,” he said. “Just stop.”

She fell silent and regarded him gravely.

“What happened is not your fault,” he said. Her fingers moved underneath his. He realized he was crushing her hands between his and made a conscious effort to loosen his grip. “It has no bearing on your intelligence or your worth, or strength as a human. It’s like—like coming down with cancer, or—” He cast about his mind for another example but came up blank, so he reached for something that he was more familiar with. “Or mortality. It’s a part of your human condition. That’s all. He is a very old, very Powerful predator, and you are his prey. Everything about him is designed to pull you in, and you heard what he said. Sometimes it takes humans that way.”

She nodded and straightened her back. “Intellectually, I understand what you’re saying. It’s just taking my emotions a little while to catch up. You know, it’s quite terrifying to not be in control of what is happening to you.”

Her words hit him hard, and it was his turn to avert his face. He muttered, very low, “I know.”

There was a pause. He could feel her gaze upon him almost like a physical caress. “That’s happened to you too.”

He didn’t have to tell her anything. The thought flashed through his mind, and he even paused to consider it. He had no business opening up to someone like her, or attempting to develop a real connection. They lived vastly different lives, and his was cursed.

But that intangible thing about her still drew him, just as it had on the plane and earlier on the deck when they had talked. And he discovered that he wanted to confide in her.

His mouth twisted. He said, “It’s happening to me right now.”

Her hands turned under his, slender fingers closing around his. “What do you mean?”

Slowly he disengaged one hand, removed his sunglasses and looked at her. Funny how quickly the glasses had become such an ingrained habit that he felt naked and vulnerable without them.

Her breath caught, the tiny sound quite audible in the deadened quiet of the cabin. Then she leaned forward and cupped his cheeks between her hands as she stared at his eyes. He knew what she saw. He looked at the same thing several times a day.

He was an Eagle Owl in his Wyr form, the largest species of owl in the world, and normally his eyes were very like his Wyr form’s, a kind of golden amber with an orange hue. The strange, brilliant color unsettled many people.

Now his eyes were changing. Darkness like spilled ink grew over the irises, the pupils and the whites. He had already lost some of his distance and peripheral vision. Eventually the black would take over completely.

“What happened?” she breathed. She stroked his temple. The caress felt shockingly intimate and kind, and it woke an immense hunger inside of him.

His voice turned harsh. “I’m going blind,” he said. “The last job I took, I was guarding an archaeological party that traveled along the Amazon River. We were attacked.”

He told her about the chieftain, the shrunken head and the curse, while horror and compassion shadowed her face. “We did everything to try to avoid actual violence, but there comes a point when you have to stop talking and fight for your lives. I think he wanted to strike me blind instantly so that I would be crippled in battle, but my body’s natural immune system took over and started fighting it off. I get periodic headaches and low grade fevers. Eventually the curse will take hold completely.”