Vesik 3 Winter's Demon (8 page)

“Drop it,” Edgar said. “If you truly wish to keep yourself separated from us, you don’t want to know how he knows.”

The innkeeper nodded and said no more.

“Anything else around we should know about?” I asked as my gaze wandered to Sam and back to Edgar. “Anything Sam should be wary of?”

“Vassili has already been here,” Edgar said.

Sam perked up. “What? Why?”

“To make sure it’s safe for you, I assume.” Edgar rubbed his hands together slowly and frowned. “I can only guess he sees you as leverage in case he royally pisses off Damian one day.”

I shrugged. “Not a bad move on his part. Where is he now?”

“He’ll meet us at the Fae pub later tonight with Cassie and Cara.”

“Whose pub is it?” Foster asked. “I can’t remember.”

“Cassie’s brother,” Zola said.

“Glenn’s nephew,” Edgar said. “I believe that is the fact you are trying to remember.”

“You mean Cassie is Glenn’s niece?” I said after a moment’s hesitation.

Edgar nodded.

“Bloody hell,” I muttered. “Glad she likes us.”

“Does her brother have the …” Mike paused and glanced at the innkeeper before saying, “… item?”

“Hell, no,” Zola snapped. “What kind of idiot do you take me for?”

Mike laughed quietly. “I meant no disrespect.”

“Enough talk. Take your rooms. We leave in a half hour.” Edgar continued past us and started down the stairs. There was a thin creak and then the clack of his heels on the wooden stairs faded.

“Strange company you keep,” the innkeeper said with a small shake of her head.

“Enough, woman,” Zola said. “Show us the rooms.”

I caught a brief smile on the innkeeper’s face as she moved forward.

“Adannaya, you’re in the Twilight room here,” she said as she pulled a ring of brass keys off her hip to unlock the door. The keys were aged. Elaborate, oversized teeth sang against the metal as she eased the key into the lock. There was a loud click, and the door swung open.

Zola placed her bags beside a small twin bed off to the side of the pink-tinted room.

“Take the queen, Sam,” she said as she gestured at the larger, dark-framed bed in the center of the room.

Sam nodded and tossed her duffel bag onto the queen from the doorway.

Zola joined us in the hallway again.

“Demon, you’re in Angela’s Lookout,” she said as she unlocked the next door.

Mike and I both stepped forward, then glanced at each other.

“Who do you mean?” I asked, not sure if she was referring to Mike or my nickname.

“I mean the fire demon,” the innkeeper said. “Apparently the fire demon that forged the core of the wardstone within our piano.”

I stared at the innkeeper, and then at Mike.

He nodded. “Well, she’s not wrong.” He smiled as he started into the room and glanced around. It was also home to two beds, though the room was smaller than Sam and Zola’s. Mike set his ancient leather bag beside the larger bed and turned around.

“How did you know?” he asked, an open curiosity in his voice.

“Edgar says many things without saying anything at all,” the innkeeper said.

Foster and Aideen groaned.

“He’s a pompous do-good on a power trip,” Foster said as he glided from Zola’s shoulder over to mine. “More trouble than he’s worth.”

The innkeeper raised her eyebrows and then barked out a laugh. She started down the hall again. “That leaves you in the Nile,” she said to me.

My first impression of the room was blue. Lots of blue, from the comforter on the canopied brass bed, to the area rug over the dark hardwood, the walls were a deep blue, and even the small porcelain hats laid out across the bench at the foot of the bed were a light blue. The painted parts of the wall were covered in drywall, but every few feet a section of old brick was exposed and trimmed in wood. The effect was stunning.

“This is huge,” I said.

“It was the last room we had available,” the innkeeper said.

Aideen glided past me and settled on a small armoire set against the wall beside the door. Further into the room, a table with two leaves folded down sat beneath a brass chandelier. I tossed my bag down by the vanity on the far wall and glanced at the bathroom.

“Holy crap,” Foster said as he swooped by. “That’s a whirlpool tub. Oh, sweet, sweet whirlpool. You’re sharing, right?”

“We’ll talk,” I said as I made my way back to the hall.

“What about Dad?” Sam whispered to me. Christ, I felt like an idiot.

“Uh, Dimitry?” I said, trying out Dad’s real name for a change.

He smiled and winked at me. “Yes?”

“Where are you staying?”

“He is welcome to stay with me,” Mike said. “Of course I will understand if my nature makes you uncomfortable.”

“Take my room,” I said. “I can grab the couch.”

The innkeeper sighed. “No, that room is for you, and you alone. I have another room I can open. I didn’t want to clean an extra set of sheets if it wasn’t necessary. It’s the first room on the second floor. I’ll have it ready for you.”

“Thank you,” Dad said with a nod to the innkeeper.

“Feel free to explore the mansion on your own,” she said, “but I warn you to stay out of the basement. I’ll not be cleaning up the mess if one of you decides not to listen.

“I’m sure Edgar is in the kitchen, if you care to join him.” With that, she nodded and started to walk away.

“We don’t have keys,” I said.

She didn’t bother to turn around. “Your rooms know you now. No one outside your party can enter.” As if on cue, all three doors slammed shut and the locks clicked in rapid succession.

I blinked and looked at Sam.

“It’s a little creepy,” she said with a smile.

I sighed and slowly started for the stairs. I let everyone go ahead before I pulled on Sam’s shoulder to slow her down.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “You seem … off. Is it Mom?”

She glanced down the hallway at the others.

“You know what Dad said to me?” she asked as her voice grew quiet. “Do you?”

I shook my head.

“They felt like
I
abandoned
them.
Like I walked out of their lives when I joined the Pit. Like I was already dead.”

“They’re wrong,” I said.

Sam’s lip trembled before she gathered herself. “That’s what Dad said to me at the house. After I helped him fight off those necromancers.”

“He what?” I stared at Sam until she looked up and met my eyes. She still seemed like the kid I grew up with sometimes, but I could feel her aura shifting when she stared back. Her vampire instincts were always hunting and prodding their surroundings for a potential meal.

“That’s why they always asked what could be done about my
condition.”
Sam reached out and grabbed my hand. “Mom always thought if I was human again, I’d be around more.” A tiny note cracked in her voice. I wouldn’t have even noticed it if I hadn’t known Sam so long. Her words came out in a whisper. “He said he was sorry.”

I turned my gaze back down the hallway. Our party had already descended the stairs, but I pictured our father there, apologizing. To say it was unlike him would be the understatement of the century.

Sam’s grip on my hand tightened, and when I turned back to face her, that little girl I knew and loved was carefully hidden away once more. “If I don’t get the chance to talk to Mom about this, Damian … If we lose her, and I never get to tell her … I’m going to kill so many people.”

“We’re going to do that anyway,” I said. “We’ll get her back.”

Sam wrapped me up in a rib-cracking hug before she started down the hallway. I almost hit the ground with my face when she grabbed my hand and yanked me forward with her.

I laughed as I regained my balance. “Alright, I’m coming, I’m coming.”

“Boy,” Zola said as we reached the stairs.

I nodded. Sam released my hand and continued on ahead by herself.

I watched her go for a moment before turning back to Zola. “You’ve been here before?”

Zola nodded. “The captain who built this house was a good man. Gave shelter to anyone in need, especially anyone gifted.” She put a hand on my arm as I reached the bottom of the staircase.

A tall, gold frame caught my eye in the little alcove to our right. It held a huge patchwork quilt, a miasma of patterns and colors laid out into twenty squares and held within a shiny, red fabric border. The entire quilt was behind glass in the thin, traditional frame.

“Last time I was here, they’d just finished that quilt.”

I bent down to read the date in the corner. “1884?”

Zola nodded. “Come, let’s meet up with the others.”

I followed her, watching her small form shuffle and lean with her cane like you’d expect of someone her age. Her braids tinkled as the silver-gray charms of Magrassnetto swayed into each other as she lurched along. It was all an act. She made it look so natural. I wondered how long she’d been practicing the deception. For that matter, how much had she really seen? How many people must she have known, or at least met? Here, in the middle of nowhere Missouri, she had known a family wealthy enough to build a mansion soon after the Civil War.

We came to the bottom of the main staircase and started down the hall toward the kitchen. Dim light came from either end of the hall, but the center was unnervingly dark. I had an urge to stop, but followed Zola through the shadows anyway.

“You felt that?” Zola asked.

“Yeah, what was it?” I rubbed the goosebumps on my arm.

“Old magic. Old enough Ah doubt many would recognize it.”

“How old?” I said, adding a little intensity to the question. “Aeros old?”

“Yes, perhaps older. It’s also why you should stay out of the basement.”

“Done and done,” I said as we passed an upright piano tucked beneath the stairs. A little further on, a closer glance at the curio showed me a treasure trove of antiques and old photographs, even a weathered journal. I wanted to stop and take it in, but we had more pressing concerns.

I slowed as we entered the kitchen. Dark hardwood stretched out to modern cabinets and electric appliances. Small saloon doors separated the kitchen from the dining room off to the west, but my attention was all for the enormous fireplace nestled in the middle of the room.

I was fairly sure I could lay down in it, aside from the roaring flames currently occupying the space. Ancient and ornate fireplace cranes adorned either side of the gaping maw, two holding cast iron Dutch ovens in the flames, and the rest pulled forward, away from the heat.

The innkeeper deftly pulled one of the cranes out of the fire with a long metal implement, lifted the lid with a covered hand, and frowned at the contents. A cloud of something that smelled rich and salty filled the air. She let the lid fall with a clang and swung the squeaky assembly back into the heat before walking over to the microwave and pulling out two green mugs. She handed one to Edgar at the small kitchen table beside the refrigerator, and another to Mike. They both thanked her and sipped the brew.

“Coffee?” I asked with more than a bit of hope.

The innkeeper nodded. “You want a mug?” she said to Zola as she pulled out three more.

“Yes, thank you.”

Foster and Aideen settled on an ancient five-shelf spice rack with jars the size of the coffee mugs as Zola seated herself in a rocking chair at the table beside Edgar. Sam was leaning against a small island between the two parties, so I pulled up a stool closer to her and the spice rack. Dad hung back, just on the other side of the island.

“I want you all to be prepared before we approach the pub tonight,” Edgar said as he sipped his coffee and then set it down. “Our friendly innkeeper has informed me there are at least three necromancers in the city. Two have tried to enter Rivercene, but this is a fortress against our enemies.

“I don’t know if Philip is with them,” he said with a glance toward Zola.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said as she took a cup from our host.

The innkeeper handed me a steaming mug and I thanked her for it. She offered a brief smile and left the room. I sipped the coffee and sighed at the slightly bitter warmth. It was damn good coffee.

“What about the Thunderbird?” Sam asked.

Edgar shrugged. “It may help us. It may try to destroy us. It may do nothing. It is an unpredictable creature.”

“Super,” Foster muttered from the spice rack.

“Finish your coffee,” Edgar said. “We go armed. Anything you brought, wear it.”

Does anyone need to get their weapons?”

We all looked at each other and shook our heads.

“You learn quick,” he said with a small, humorless smile.

CHAPTER EIGHT

W
e lucked out with a parking spot a few doors away from the pub. My breath fogged in the crisp, night air, and I was glad I had a leather bomber jacket in the trunk. Everyone was in their winter gear. Zola wore an ancient leather trench coat almost worn to the same pale brown as her knobby old cane. She adjusted a light blue fabric hat snuggly pulled over her head. Makeshift earflaps made from the same material hung down on either side of her head, and a similar flap covered the back of her neck.

Sam had on a puffy black coat, with Foster and Aideen peeking out of either pocket on her chest. Dad followed close behind in an antique leather jacket with some obvious signs of wear. Mom hated that thing.

“Mom may tell you to leave her with the kidnappers if she sees you in that,” I said.

Sam snorted a laugh and Dad’s face lifted into a small smile.

Mike held the door open, a padded vest pulled over his usual coarse, unbleached linen shirt and jeans as we all filed past him.

The old music hit me first as it wove its way through the aged bar, seeming to bring the lengthy stretch of dark wood to life. It was timeless but structured and flowing like an ocean. Two women sat on the low stage with lutes cradled in their arms. Their pale fingers danced, shifting into different positions with inhuman speed and grace. I barely noticed the other patrons, seated at tables along the left wall, opposite the bar. I didn’t have to know what the song was to know I was hearing something few men had ever heard.