The Ravenous Dark, page 28
The attack was widely regarded as a slap in the face to the Delacroix and their failed attempts at unmasking the shadowmancer. And the Delacroix took it as such, renewing their search tenfold.
"I heard the Delacroix secured a contract with an outside clan to speed up the search."
Bailey's head cocked discreetly in the direction of the man and woman walking ahead of them.
"No, no, no," the woman replied, her stiff brown curls moving as one with her shaking head. "The Delacroix think a clan from outside is behind the attack. Haven't you heard? There's talk of a rogue sorcerer being spotted in the Styx the other night!"
The man nodded vigorously at the woman's correction. "Oh yes, that's right. But I heard from Clarissa Stone it wasn't the first sighting of the rogue! Apparently, the first sighting, they were wearing the most atrocious shade of chartreuse."
The woman gasped as if scandalized. "Oh really?"
Her companion wore a superior air as he nodded. "Yes, it was hardly subtle for whatever nefarious meeting they arranged. But what I'm more interested in learning is who made the delightfully nasty little charm bracelet for the demons?" At the exaggerated look of confusion, the woman passed him, the man elaborated. "The one that muffles their pesky little talents?"
The woman spared the man a fangful grin. "Why I have no idea, my dearest Kai. Why don't we find out?"
They cut through the crowd with purpose. Bailey considered their words with a frown. "Who are they?" she asked absently.
"Malakai and Madeline Dubois. They're seasonal courtiers. They only come for the Royal Households annual masquerades."
"So, they've been here since—"
"October first, maybe a night or two before to settle in. We'll host ours on the winter solstice, but I'm sure the Dubois siblings will stay till the New Year."
Bailey mulled over the information slowly. "Is that what most seasonal vampyrés do?"
"I suppose." Ruby shrugged, and then tugged Bailey out of the way when a pair of over-eager courtiers jostled through the crowd. They earned several disgruntled looks. "If not the masquerades, they'll come for the spring equinox." Ruby eyed Bailey's lingering frown with interest. "What is it?"
"The first attack happened a few nights before the Roux's Nuit de Plaisir."
Ruby blinked. Then her features tipped down in a frown to match Bailey's. "You're right. What an interesting… coincidence."
Bailey snorted at the false note Ruby's voice hit at the end. "Right, a coincidence. Have the Delacroix bothered to interrogate the seasonal courtiers?"
"They have," Ruby answered tersely, eyes narrowing on Bailey. Bailey held her regard defiantly. "In fact," Ruby continued, "the Delacroix have done a rather fine job of giving each supernatural faction equal attention."
Before Bailey could protest, Ruby looped their arms. With her hand firmly clamped onto Bailey's forearm, she gave a warning squeeze. Bailey's mouth snapped shut at the silent admonishment. She followed Ruby's gaze sliding pointedly to the quiet supernaturals around them.
Bailey stiffened in sudden awareness and cleared her throat. "Great," she forced out between clenched teeth. "I'm glad to hear everyone's being treated so… equally." Ruby's grip loosened. When talk picked back up around them, Bailey's posture relaxed some. Ruby gave her forearm a reassuring pat.
"Better?" Bailey shrugged halfheartedly and Ruby hummed knowingly. "You've been off recently," she commented. "Distant." Bailey stayed silent. "Cranky too."
The two locked eyes, but only Ruby's shone with amusement.
"I'm teasing. Partly. You have been rather unbearable lately, though."
"Gee, thanks," Bailey grumbled, glaring vehemently at a passerby who bumped into her.
"Perhaps you should take a turn in the pit tonight. It might help get rid of all that tension and negative energy you're carrying around."
Bailey scoffed, her patience and spirits wearing thin. She tried to untangle herself from Ruby, but the petite vampyré refused to relinquish her. "Fighting won't solve my problem."
"Ah, so we're admitting there's a problem. That's a good first step." Ruby's patronization was coupled with another consoling pat. Bailey growled. "If a fight won't release all this bottled-up energy you have, you ought to find someone to fuck."
Bailey whipped her head to the side and stared at Ruby. She waggled her eyebrows back at the she-wolf.
"What?"
"You. Need. To. Get. Laid." Ruby smiled coquettishly and fluttered her lashes. "You know, Nova and I are always looking for a—"
"No, we're not," Nova piped up from behind. Glancing back, Bailey caught the tail of Nova's lukewarm scowl.
"Fine, we're not," Ruby agreed readily, never looking back. "But I'm certain I can help arrange a rendezvous with someone for you. There are plenty of options for you to choose from. If River hasn’t provided a contraceptive charm for you, I’m sure Jax— "
“River already—she,” Bailey interrupted, face turning scarlet. "I’m covered with that, okay? And I don’t need you playing matchmaker for me."
"Is it because you already have someone in mind?" The coy question did little to ease Bailey's embarrassment. She attempted to summon her anger, but her endeavor fell flat as images of Ronan filled her mind's eye.
Her thighs clenched as heat sparked low in her abdomen. It was all too easy to imagine their limbs entwined. His cock buried deep inside her, stretching, and filling her. His hands and lips everywhere else coaxing her to heights that left her crying for more.
Bailey's core throbbed.
Her breath came in shorter increments as the tantalizing fantasy played out. In recent nights, the lack of his presence became almost suffocating in its acuity. She wondered if he felt the same.
"Earth to Bailey."
Ruby's hip knocked into hers, jostling her over the staircase's last step. She tossed the petite vampyré a glare. Ruby laughed as she helped steady her.
"I don't need your help, okay?"
Ruby released her. Her laughter softened as a courtier snipped at Bailey when she bumped into them.
"Relax. I won't tease you anymore," Ruby said with a roll of her eyes. Nova sidled up to Ruby's side, throwing an arm over her shoulders. "Come on. We need to grab seats for the family."
Bailey trailed in the couple's wake as they weaved through the increasingly dense crowd. They paused momentarily once past the grand Gothic entryway for Ruby to scan the crowd.
"I think we're the first here," she remarked.
A grin tugged at Bailey's lips. "Nah, you're just short. Deval's over there." And Ronan is… nowhere.
Bailey shuffled numbly after Ruby and Nova to Deval. Her throat was tight, and her thoughts dark. Her soulmark felt bruised after so many nights without any kind of contact from Ronan. Even the light rubbing of her clothes against it caused discomfort.
She was tempted to scan the crowd again for him but knew it would be pointless. There was a moment the other night when she thought him near, walking Stella back to her room when her soulmark tingled in awareness. Before she could chase down the sensation, it was gone.
"Bitch," someone hissed as they sashayed past her. Bailey's responding growl stuck in her throat as her other side was jostled into, and then once again on her right as two women and a man tittered in satisfaction.
Bailey rolled her shoulders back and inhaled sharply through her nose. The Vrana's continued rally and appeal for the sorcerer clan edicts to be put to bed had steadily been losing support. Bailey believed in Irina's political prowess, but even her hopes were plummeting.
She glanced at the Royal Households' private balcony spaces. The Delacroix's was near bursting, their members standing tall and proud. Excitement radiated from their box. The Roux's was the exact opposite, occupied solemnly by the latest Madame Roux and her only childe.
Irina was the sole Vrana in the balcony space, with a handful of guests from the Krovopuskov household.
Guilt reared its head as she eyed the men and women donned in crimson. The weight of Luka's death had taken a backseat to her other woes, but it was still there. It lingered like some parasite she could not rid herself of, even though the fault was not truly hers to bear. She breathed through her unease, and by chance, spotted Stella.
The banshee was seated at an equal distance between the Vranas and a small group of demons who were looking ragged at best. The seats surrounding her were empty, but the eyes of several courtiers still dug pointedly into her back.
"I thought I left you in better shape than this last night," Bailey said as a way of greeting as she walked over. Stella startled and stared at Bailey unblinkingly.
"What?"
"You look—" Stella's expression saddened preemptively, and Bailey hastened to soften the blow. "—like you need a coffee."
Stella barely nodded. "Or something stiffer."
Her voice was hoarser than usual. Bailey frowned and regarded her carefully. She sat rigid, clearly aware, and uncomfortable with the attention of so many upon her. Besides the haggard look she wore, she was dressed finely in a cream-colored dress with long bell sleeves. It unnecessarily accentuated her pallor and—
"Stella, is that blood?"
Bailey quickly ascended the grandstand and sat next to Stella. She followed the trail of blood speckling her dress's shoulder onto her back and stifled a gasp. Rancid copper filled her nose as she surveyed Stella's blood-soaked back and ends of her hair.
"What happened? Are you hurt?"
A sigh of relief rushed out of Bailey as Stella shook her head. Bailey leaned closer and inhaled, her brows rushing together as she pulled back.
"If that's not your blood, whose is it?"
Stella fiddled with her hands in her lap. "Some courtier or another. The shadowmancer struck again."
Bailey paled. "When?"
"Not long ago. A half an hour or so. Maybe more. I… I don't know." Stella trembled.
"Whoa, hey, that's okay. It's okay." Bailey's hand settled between Stella's shoulder blades and rubbed small circles there, while her other hand blanketed hers. The younger girl melted into the touch and closed her eyes.
"Count Delacroix came to me with an absurd sum for a one-off service. He said one of his men discovered the clan responsible for the shadowmancer. They were going to confront them before the match, and he wanted me there to—to—"
"I know," Bailey whispered.
Stella leaned out of Bailey's touch, her wary eyes opening and fixating on some point in the distance.
"It was a massacre, Bailey, and almost exactly like the opera. Two vampyrés were possessed, and they went after everyone."
"Who was it? How did the Delacroix manage to stop them?"
"Jet robes,” she murmured softly to herself, chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip. “It was the Veles clan. The entire Delacroix household came to 'contain' the situation." A bitter smile cut across her face as she passed Bailey a sidelong glance. "Outside of them, there were shifters, a handful of houseless and seasonal courtiers, demons too. The Delacroix wouldn't let anyone leave until the matter had been resolved."
Bailey swallowed thickly. "What of the sorcerers behind the shadowmancer? Did any of them make it out alive?"
"They kept one alive. He'll be given a public trial." Stella chuckled darkly. The sound was unnerving coming from her. "I imagine it will be a grand affair."
Staying silent, Bailey scanned the arena. By her estimation, news had yet to break in full. Those who did know pointed excitedly at the preening Delacroix.
"I'm sorry, Stella." The banshee ducked her chin and lifted one shoulder. "Why did you come here? Why not go back to your room and rest?"
Scarlet bloomed onto Stella's cheeks. The younger woman turned briefly away from Bailey before meeting her gaze. "I did," she confessed. Her throat bobbed conspicuously. "Someone left a bottle of rhodiola outside my door, and I thought I might take some comfort in that before I showered and changed or slept. Except, I only had a glass before I remembered Charity was fighting tonight. I promised her I would cheer her on and got back as quickly as I could. But I forgot to change."
"Who's Charity?"
Stella bristled, the cherry hue on her cheeks blossoming further. "I do have other friends here outside of you and River, you know."
"That's not what I meant," Bailey countered defensively. She scowled at her friend. "I haven't been here as long as you and don't know every courtier yet." Stella ducked her head. "I don't doubt you have other friends, Stella. You're wonderful and sweet if a little glum at times."
"Sorry," Stella mumbled. She rubbed her eyes, smudging farther her already ruined makeup and darkening the circles under her eyes. "Sometimes the rhodiola makes me a little irritable."
"Among other things, like hallucinating and sleepwalking."
Stella's shoulders hitched up. "I'm trying to do better," she whispered, hands flopping into her lap and curling. "It's just… hard."
Bailey's stomach twisted into a knot. "It will get easier—"
"Will it, though?" A desperate note lined her words as her voice cracked.
"Yes, Stella, it will," Bailey rebutted her firmly, catching the younger's glittering eyes. "You're a natural with your sonic voice, and you're getting better with your self-defense moves too." Stella's bland glance at Bailey's lie made the she-wolf cringe. "Well, you're not falling over nearly as much with the self-defense. The most important thing to remember is that you're not going to be in this place forever. You're going to leave one day with money to spare for you and your family."
"I'll be lucky if I make it out alive."
Bailey paused a second before flicking Stella on the nose. The younger woman gaped back at her and gingerly covered the offended area.
"You will make it out alive," Bailey declared. "And let's add no more negative self-talk to your to-do list. By the time I'm through with you, kid, you'll be walking all over these deadbeats." Bailey slung an arm over Stella's shoulder and pulled her in for a side hug, keeping her voice low as she said her next words. "You're stronger than you realize. All you have to do is start believing in that, and you'll start seeing the change in yourself you want."
Stella made a little noise in the back of her throat and twisted slightly to toss her arms around Bailey in a full-on hug. The she-wolf laughed and squeezed back.
"You're good at that." Stella sniffled, settling back in her seat. A crinkling noise accompanied the movement, but since Stella ignored it, Bailey did too.
"At what?"
"Pep talks and speeches. You always seem to know the right words to say. At least to me."
Bailey smiled weakly. "Not always, but I'm glad they worked for you tonight." Stella nodded and rubbed away the mess under her eyes after Bailey pointed it out.
"Hey, Bailey, do you think River could make me some more of that potion for my throat?"
"I can ask her for you." A frown slid Bailey's features down. "Did you finish with your last batch already? River thought it would last you a while."
Stella fidgeted in her seat. The odd crinkling noise sounded again. Bailey ran her eyes over her questioningly but again didn't comment. "There've been a lot of deaths recently, and because of that, new vampyrés are being made, which essentially equates to double the normal death rate. And that's not even touching on the fact that the old regime gets easily annoyed with the fledgling vampyrés and kills them. It's never-ending." Stella adopted a pained expression, the faraway look returning to her eyes. "My Aunt Claire warned me there could be times when the death count might spike... but this seems a bit much."
Stella finished her raspy tirade with a slight pant. When she caught sight of Bailey's deep frown, her breath caught. She grimaced.
"What?"
Bailey let her gaze drift meaningfully to Stella's throat. "Two things. First, we absolutely have to start incorporating singing into your sessions. All this screaming is tearing up your vocal cords. We need to take more preventive action, which might also mean you not speaking to rest your voice as much as possible."
Stella ducked her flaming face out of view. Bailey's eyes narrowed. It wasn't the first time she had brought up singing as a means to alleviate the strain on Stella's abused vocal cords. Every time she was met with the same frustrating avoidance.
"And the second?" Stella asked before Bailey could press the subject further.
"What the hell is that noise? Are you sitting on something?"
"It's nothing," Stella squeaked keeping still and her face down.
When Bailey didn't speak, Stella peeked at her. The she-wolf pounced, drawing a squeal from the banshee and the eyes of those around them.
"Bailey, stop it. Knock it off. I—" Stella flushed guiltily, as Bailey held up the crumpled letter Stella had been sitting on.
"What is this?" Bailey turned the letter over in her hand, noticing the seal still intact. She squinted at the squished wax, trying and failing to figure out the debossed emblem in its middle.
"It's from the Pulzins."
Bailey's investigation immediately stopped as she jerked her gaze to Stella's. "Another invitation?"
Stella reached for it with a grimace, but Bailey balled the letter in her hand and then tossed it aside. "Bailey," Stella hissed in halfhearted outrage as she watched the letter sail into a nearby group of vampyrés. "I was handling it. I wasn't going to accept anyway. There's nothing they have to offer me that would make working for them worth it."
"Agreed. Working with them would not be a smart move." The all-male Major Household was notoriously vicious. Stella would be eaten alive. Most likely, literally.
A bell rang from above, signaling the three-minute warning for the audience to take their seats. Courtiers still lingering in the space around the fighting pit slowly made their way up the stands to find a decent view. Though the space was crowded, it wasn't packed. Bailey wondered if it was because of the shadowmancer or because the night's entertainment wouldn't be vampyré fighters.
A strange hush fell over the crowd as people settled in their seats. Bailey blinked, sure that the three minutes had yet to pass full and looked around. She found the culprit immediately in the arena's entryway.
