The Strange Path (33 page)

“Bullshit.”

“My point exactly.” Fiona dismissed her, turning her attention to Dorst. “Unless you take prior claim? You did call me when you arrived here in search of her.”

The last bit of the puzzle fell into place. Fiona and her pack had been actively hunting for Whiskey on Dorst’s request. They hadn’t accidentally stumbled upon her when they did.  They may have been following her for some time before they decided to intercede on her behalf against the boys who’d kidnapped her. Whiskey felt a lightening in her soul, her supposed obligation to Fiona not weighing quite as much as it had.

Dorst lifted his chin. “I have no claim here.”

Fiona smiled, and made a welcoming gesture toward the seating area. “Please, sit and relax. I’ll have Bronwyn bring down a snack. Unless you’d prefer—” She glanced innocently behind her at Daniel’s hanging form.

“That is entirely up to my
Gasan
; I’m here at her disposal.”

A flash of confusion crossed Fiona’s face.

Whiskey enjoyed the expression, a grim smile on her lips. “Get Daniel down from there.”

Dorst paused no more than a second, before moving to comply with Whiskey’s order.

“No!”

Fiona raced forward, and cut him off. The smell of sweet flowers filled Whiskey’s mind, counteracted by amber and steel. Whiskey almost saw the vapors of power emanating from each of them. Fiona glared at Dorst for half a minute before going white. The flowery essence faded, and Dorst stood there with a gentle golden glow about him.

That’s a first. What the hell is that?

“Do not mistake my position as weakness, child.” He moved around Fiona, reaching Daniel’s side with no more opposition.

The kindness in his voice caused Fiona to flush to the roots of her red hair. She snarled and strode forward, stopping just out of Whiskey’s reach. “Who are you to give him orders?” 

“Who do you think I am?”

Fiona stared at Whiskey. “You can’t be serious!” She glanced over at Dorst who now had Daniel in a fireman’s carry, bringing his unconscious form to the couch. “This is ridiculous! She’s a child, a cheap imitation. The prophecy is nothing but the codswallop of an ancient witch who should have done us the favor of dying a thousand years ago.”

Dorst laid Daniel down. Ignoring Fiona, he awaited another order from Whiskey.

“Get Cora out of that cage.” He bowed his head, and proceeded to cross the room. “Do you need the key?”

He chuckled. “Even if I did, I doubt you’d get it from her without a fight.”

Fiona tucked her chin, glaring at Whiskey.

“I think you’re right.” Had she known it’d be this easy, she’d have been here hours ago. She silently swore, wondering how much grief she could have spared Cora and Daniel if she’d arrived earlier. Fiona’s arrogant voice brought Whiskey out of her self-castigation.

“You are not Elisibet Vasilla reborn.”

Whiskey shrugged, noting for the first time how bright the lamps were in the room. Her skin burned from the exposure, almost as bad as being outside in sunlight. “Maybe not. We’ll see what happens. We both know I look like her, though. That’s why you wanted me as part of your sick little family.” A squeal of metal caused her to wince. Dorst had the cell door open. The pressure behind her eyes grew, not quite becoming an ache.

“I see. You wish to play the game on your own.” Fiona smiled, baring her teeth. “Tell me, little
lamma
, how do you plan to do that? With him?” She indicated Dorst with a sharp nod of her head. “He is the master of manipulation, sweet Whiskey. How do you know he’s not going to use you in a similar manner?”

Dorst ignored her jibes, though he clearly heard them. He had Cora out of the tiny cell, and untied. She lay on her side, whimpering as she unfurled from her forced fetal shape. He produced a lock pick for the manacles at her wrist.

Whiskey couldn’t deny Fiona’s suspicions. She’d had them herself, needed them to survive in a world that didn’t give a shit about a throwaway orphan kid. She’d given up trying to explain the depth of her confidence. She shrugged. “I don’t. I trust him not to, that’s all.”

Fiona burst into laughter. “My goodness! How naive for such a street-hardened youngling.” She turned to Dorst, attempting to bring him into the conversation. “You’ll have an excellent time with this one,
Sañur Gasum
. Perhaps, when you’re finished with her, you will allow me the privilege of killing her for you.”

The manacles popped off Cora’s wrists, clattering to the concrete floor. Dorst helped her stand, offering a solicitous arm, ignoring Fiona’s words.

“Get them out of here, Reynhard,” Whiskey said. “Take them upstairs.”

“That will not be possible, my
Gasan
. I cannot leave you here alone.” He escorted Cora to the loveseat.

Whiskey’s stomach soured.
Honeymoon’s over.
“That was an order,”  she said with a growl. “Get them to the car so we can leave.”

Dorst gave her a deep bow. “Perhaps you could escort our new friends to the vehicle. I’ll remain here with dear Fiona. We have so much catching up to do.”

Fiona’s already pale complexion blanched at his veiled threat. The wicked smile on her face disappeared, and her eyes flitted around the room. She backed away from Whiskey, teeth bared.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Whiskey tried not to let her anger take hold of her. “Did you or did you not swear fealty to me?” She ignored the strangled sound from Fiona.

“I did.” Dorst’s voice held both a defeated, and regretful tone.

Whiskey raised her head to glare at him. “Then you will take Cora and Daniel out of here, put them in the car, and make certain Bronwyn and Manuel don’t get any wild ideas. Understood?”

He studied her for a long moment, before lifting his chin. “As you wish, my liege.”

“No.” Cora’s whispered word was clearly audible as Dorst helped her to stand. Able to keep her feet without faltering, she’d need blood and time to heal.

“Do as you’re told,” Fiona snapped. The panicked expression had left her face.

Whiskey smiled at Cora, taking in the fearful look. “I’ll be fine. Go with Reynhard; help him with Daniel.”

“If she can’t have you, she wants you dead!”

Moving away from the door would give Fiona an escape route. Whiskey remained where she stood. “That’s not going to happen, Cora. Trust me.” She reached for Cora’s mind, soothing her emotions. “You asked me to remember who assisted me. I do remember. Take Daniel and get out.”

Unshed tears made Cora’s eyes glassy, but she complied. Dorst picked up Daniel again, who moaned at the jostling, and Cora led their way to the door. When she passed behind Whiskey, she reached out, and caressed her arm.

Whiskey loosened up when the upper door closed softly behind them.
Another obligation bites the dust.
Turning her attention to Fiona, she saw she wasn’t the only one relaxing her guard.

“Isn’t this cozy?” Fiona strolled to an end table, retrieving the glass of blood wine she’d been drinking when Whiskey arrived. Looking up at the ceiling, she traced the path of footsteps to the door. “It’s just as well. They were both far too weak to be here. Not like the others.” She sat on the loveseat with graceful ease. “So, tell me. Was
Sañur Gasum
at the hotel? Is that what happened to Alphonse and Zebediah?”

Startled pleasure rolled through Whiskey.
She doesn’t know!
A slow grin crossed her face. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Certainly you must have had some kind of help then. A youngling such as yourself could not have taken on four adult Sanguire.”

“I don’t know. I did well enough with Bronwyn and Manuel.” Whiskey came around the couch to perch easily on its arm.

Fiona made a face. “Yes. They didn’t take into account your increased physical strength and flexibility. Neither is too happy with the outcome.”

That set off warning bells. Whiskey didn’t care for either of them, but it didn’t mean she enjoyed the idea of them being tortured for fun and profit by Fiona. “What did you do?”

She arched an eyebrow in response. “What any good matriarch should do. Manuel is still healing, but I made certain his paramour understood the result of her failure.”

Whiskey shivered. Alphonse and Zebediah had done the smart thing by not coming back. Cora and Daniel had remained by Fiona’s side despite their differing opinions, and look what it had gotten them. If Fiona punished the people who were loyal to her, what would she do to those who were complete traitors? She forced herself to return to the conversation. “Alphonse and Zebediah won’t be back, I think.”

Fiona’s eyes narrowed. “And how do you know this?”

“Because they helped me get away from you. Last time I saw them, they were pinning down another Sanguire so I could escape.”

Whiskey savored the long moment of stunned silence. It almost counteracted the growing headache pulsing in her temples. The grin returned to her face as Fiona stared at her.

“What...?”

Whiskey laughed aloud. It didn’t help when Fiona’s pique showed, a thin line creasing the smooth skin between her eyes. Whiskey laughed harder, pointing at her. Her head throbbed vigorously, but seeing Fiona’s perplexed reaction made it worth the pain. “Oh, my God! This is hilarious! This is just totally fucking with your head.” She slid from the arm, and onto the couch, holding her abdomen as she let her mirth carry her away.

Fiona held her chin to her chest, glaring at the amused response. “Alphonse and Zebediah would never follow your lead, child.”

Still chuckling, Whiskey made a show of wiping her eyes. “They would if they’d been overpowered.”

“By who? You said
Sañur Gasum
Dorst wasn’t there.”

Whiskey stretched out, thumping first one boot, then the other onto the coffee table. She crossed her ankles. “By me.” She suppressed another round of chortles as Fiona stared at her.

“By—”

“Me.”

The annoyance faded from Fiona’s face as she considered this information. She sipped lightly at her wine, staring at nothing.

Whiskey wondered how long she needed to keep up the arrogant facade. Dorst had gotten Cora and Daniel out of the house. They waited for her to join them. Questing with her mind, she felt her
Baruñal’s
strong presence as he dissuaded Manuel from getting involved. Of Bronwyn, there was only the light sensation, still in another part of the house. Whiskey understood why she had a headache and saw strange things; they were the symptoms of the
Ñíri Kurám
going too long. She had to get the final meditation out of the way before long. She needed to get out of here. She had what she came for; no reason to make things worse.

Something stopped her. Seattle was Fiona’s stomping grounds. She’d been here with her pack of sycophants when Dorst first arrived on an indirect tip from Castillo’s report to the
Agrun Nam
. Maybe Cora and the others would be free of Fiona, but she’d be here to collect more twisted Sanguire rebels.
What if Valmont finds her?
That wasn’t a pleasant idea. Someone several hundred years old working with Fiona to take care of old grudges?
She can tell him I started on the streets here. He might be able to locate the people I hung out with.
Considering what Whiskey “remembered” about Valmont, he’d ruthlessly use Gin as leverage if he ever found her. He’d been trained by the worst monster, Elisibet Vasilla.
I have to put a stop to this before it starts.
A chill washed through her. She had to deal with Fiona before she left this house. When Fiona spoke, it brought Whiskey back to the conversation with a jolt.

“I don’t believe you.” Fiona waved vaguely with her glass. “Granted, you’re stronger than I expected considering your stage of development, but that means nothing. I exhibited abnormal strength when I went through the
Ñíri Kurám
. It’s no stretch of the imagination that others do, as well.”

The words spilled out of Whiskey’s mouth before she realized what she said. “How about a little one-on-one, just for comparison’s sake?”

Fiona froze, glass halfway to her lips, staring over the rim. “What do you mean?”

What the hell am I doing?
“You and me, no weapons, no holds barred.”

“I do not grapple in the dirt like a common peasant,
puru um
.” Fiona’s words dripped with acid.

It took a moment for the translation to work its way through Whiskey’s brain. Had she just called her a...hillbilly? She was going to have to ask Reynhard or the padre about that one. She put her feet on the floor, and scooted to the end of the couch. “No, idiot. This isn’t the WWF. I’m talking no holds barred here.” She tapped her temple for emphasis.

“No.”

Whiskey looked to see that Dorst had returned. Delaying the inevitable, she asked, “Are Cora and Daniel safe?”

“Yes, my
Gasan.
Manuel has decided to remain in the living area, and Bronwyn is unable to leave her room. It’s time for us to vacate the premises.”

Wondering why Bronwyn couldn’t leave her room, Whiskey shook her head. “Fiona and I aren’t finished. Go back to the car, and wait for me.”

“I will not leave you here alone. You’re making a mistake.”

Whiskey ignored him, and looked back at Fiona.
Wouldn’t be the first time, pal.
“If Reynhard swears to butt out, what do you say? Do you think you’re stronger than me?”

Fiona studied her, her expression speculative. “I know I am. But would he stand by his word? He has a reputation for deviousness.”

“I trust his vow. He has never gone back on his word, not in all the centuries he’s been alive.”

“
Ninsumgal
—”

“Shut up, Reynhard.” She stifled surprise when he did. A thrill of pleasure vied against a strange sadness. He’d sworn fealty to her, he’d do as she said, no matter what it entailed. As much as she wished he could be her friend and confidante, that would never, ever be. Dorst would forever remain a servant.
What the fuck! I don’t have to go that route. I’m not the Sanguire Second Coming!

After a long pause, Fiona spoke. “I’ll take you up on that.” She pointed at Dorst. “But he swears more than to stay out of it. He’d better swear to allow me to leave when I win.”