The Ravenous Dark, page 33
"Knock it off," he growled in her ear. "Franklin doesn't let that kind of shit fly. You got a problem with someone? Work it out in the ring. Never on the job. Got it?" When Bailey didn't respond, he released her and spun her to face him. His hands clamped on her shoulders and gave her a rough shake. "Got it?"
"I got it," she spat and wrenched herself out of his hold. She marched stiffly toward the car and fumed silently as she dressed.
Her fury was incandescent.
And it was all directed at herself. Bailey glanced shakily at Q, who trotted out of the home. A large leatherbound book was in his hands. A gilded W was embossed on its front. Their prize.
She didn't wait to be told to get in the car, so she slid inside wordlessly, slamming the door behind her.
Bailey closed her eyes as the rest of the men joined her and the car rumbled to a start. It was going to be a long night, made even longer by her mounting disgrace.
A tear slipped down her cheek as she opened her eyes. The far-off cries of the family haunted Bailey as Q backed out of the long drive.
She needed a drink. Maybe ten. Even then, she doubted their screams would fade from her mind.
Jakob, Ronan noted, didn’t appear surprised to see him outside his door. He wondered if he’d worn the stoic expression all evening to contend with the courtiers who would come to voice their opinions on the newly posted restrictions on sorcerers. Then Jakob’s gaze flicked to his companion. Ronan watched as Jakob’s pupils dilated, then narrowed on Valdora in subtle surprise.
"Good evening."
Ronan tipped his chin in acknowledgment and kept his arms folded tightly over his chest.
"We need to talk," Ronan said. "Privately."
Jakob directed them inside. "The downstairs lounge will work. The family is out doing their part in damage control or otherwise occupied."
They entered the main room single file. Ronan sat on the couch rigidly, flush with memories of his last visit here and who he was seated on the couch with. His throat dried.
Those were happier times, unburdened by the soulmark's ravaging tenacity now that they were sealed. He could scarcely believe it was only a few short weeks ago. A bitter laugh snagged in his chest as he caught sight of his family's gift to the Vrana's displayed on the coffee table. The raven statuette gleamed proudly.
He remembered vividly coming here to tattle on Bailey like a schoolboy. He had been determined to keep her out of harm's way by any means. The vitriolic laughter died in his chest.
Ronan should have tried harder.
The weight of the world was on his shoulders, and he was caving under its pressure. Every night he failed to cut his connection with the dark magic, the more tempting it became to just… give in.
And then what? He thought for the umpteenth time. Let his household fall? Let Bailey be tied to a monster?
Ronan wet his lips and ran his hand over his jaw. The prickled ends of his stubble greeted him. He was a mess and trying to hide the fact had become useless. This tug of war between the wants of the soulmark and dark magic was draining him dry. Soon he wouldn't be able to fight them off any longer.
It was territory he couldn't afford to delve into—the cost of failure too high.
He needed help.
He needed the Vranas.
Jakob walked to the bar while they sat and arranged three glasses before him. "Would either of you like—"
"I'm the Shadowmancer."
Jakob froze; paralyzed.
"I thought you said—" Ronan held up a hand to silence Valdora's hissed remark. His gaze trained itself on Jakob.
"And what would you have me do with your confession?" Jakob said after several long moments. He deftly poured his rocks glass with equal parts blood and vodka.
Ronan leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as his hands knotted together. Jakob turned half-hooded crimson eyes to him. His cool appraisal was wholly unreadable. Ronan hadn't expected anything less, but he dared to hope for something more… encouraging.
"You owe me a debt." Ronan stared Jakob down. "Help me."
Jakob stalked toward the unlikely pair, drink forgotten, and stopped before one of the armchairs.
"You killed many, my friend," Jakob responded tersely. "There is only so much I can do."
"I haven't killed anyone, Jakob. I swear on my life and that of my kin. The dark magic that plagues this court has ensnared me in its path of destruction. I've been fighting it for weeks… I—" His words gave out as shame shuddered through him. "I need your help to discover the true culprit behind the rabidus curse. Only then will I be free from its influence."
A studious scowl took up residence on Jakob's face as he moved around the chair and sat on its edge. His body language mirrored Ronan's. "And this dark magic turns you into the shadowmancer? How? Why?"
Ronan gave a short shake of his head. "No, that magic is my own," he confessed. "It's a new ability I gained from the Otherworld, like my others, but this one has been corrupted."
"How?" Jakob glowered.
Valdora cleared her throat and scooted closer to the edge of the couch. Jakob's icy blue eyes locked on her as she began to speak.
"Ronan enlisted my help the night of the opera to help him discover just that," she explained. "We visited his memories of the Otherworld so that I could gather magical samples. In doing so, I discovered a number of different magics in the realm. Those inside the temple they studied were of healing and Godly magic. The magic outside the temple was of a more insidious nature, permeating the very air they breathed."
Jakob's face darkened. "Dark magic."
Valdora's expression soured as she nodded. "Yes."
Panic seized Jakob. "Jax—"
"Isn't affected by the dark magic like I am," Ronan was quick to answer. "Though that's not to say he isn't affected at all. If he is, he hides it well.” Jakob stared at him askance, and his cheeks warmed. “We haven't been on the best of terms to share our experience." As Jakob absorbed the information, Ronan decided to hold off telling him about the harrow hounds' poisonous bite.
Jakob's gaze flickered between the two before settling back on Valdora. "This dark magic in the Otherworld; you think it's the same used in the rabidus curse?"
"That is what we fear, yes, but we haven't been able to confirm it. We've attempted to gain samples of the curse from its victims, to test against my own small sum, but the window to retrieve it has been too slim. We've had no success," Valdora admitted. "Yet the fact remains, the dark magic here is tied to Ronan's shadow magic for some reason. Whenever it's activated, Ronan is forced to the scene in his shadowmancer form."
Jakob remained in pensive silence for a long time. It made Ronan's knee bounce in anxious abandon.
"Jakob, the dark magic grows every night. And with it, its strength over me. I fear all that we've witnessed the past few weeks is the sorcerers behind the curse, fine-tuning it for something far more nefarious than we can imagine. I fear—" Jakob's eyes locked on his. "—I won't be able to fight its pull much longer. If that is the case, I need to leave the court and get as far away from the magic's reach as possible."
With a muttered curse, Jakob stood and placed himself once more behind the high chair. He gripped its back with white knuckles.
"I put those that I love most at risk the longer the culprit goes undiscovered." Ronan's eyes shuttered closed momentarily as he uttered his next words. "And so, if you cannot help me find the person responsible behind all this, I would call on your debt to me for different use. If I am forced to leave, look after my ravens. Look after—"
"It is a wasted debt," Jakob interrupted. "I would have watched over those you loved regardless." Ronan's throat bobbed with unspoken emotion as the men shared a long look. Jakob's grip relaxed. "I shall help you discover who is behind this curse. In truth, we've been conducting our own small investigation into the matter. There's rumor of a rogue sorcerer—"
"Or sorceress," Valdora cut in, crossing one leg over the other with a haughty tip of her eyebrow.
"Or sorceress," Jakob conceded. "In either case, we've had no luck tracking them down." He huffed and briefly pinched the bridge of his nose. "We're chasing after a ghost."
They were silent for a time as Jakob strode back to the bar, fetched his drink, and made theirs. When all were provisioned, Jakob cleared his throat and asked, "What have you learned about the culprit thus far?"
"That they seek chaos and power or," Ronan said.
"Vengeance," Valdora finished.
Ronan nodded warily and sat back. He took a long sip of his drink, letting the bite of the alcohol soothe some of his agitation and anxiety.
"Chaos and power seem too simple a cause for one sorcerer and casts too wide a net. Everyone at court seeks power in some way or another." Jakob concurred. "As for vengeance…." He glanced at Valdora meaningfully.
A small flush brightened her cheeks. "It's no secret the sorcerer population at court are still upset with the Roux's treatment of our kind during their initiation. Or that many still harbor resentments over the banishment that happened to the Gamayun clan. Given that, we've tried to narrow our search to those who were allied or close friends with those the Roux slew."
"I sense a 'but' coming," Jakob remarked, eyeing the pair over the rim of his vodka and blood.
Valdora grimaced. "But the Lunar Court has made contacting these individuals difficult."
"How so?" Intrigued, Jakob sat up a little straighter.
"They're all members of the Lunar Court and claim its protection. The demons act as protectors when called to service," Valdora claimed.
Jakob frowned. "You're not a member of the Lunar Court?"
Valdora blushed again, this time deeper. A bitter smile rose to her lips. "My request was denied from the start."
Another silence took the group. Jakob's fingers drummed the side of his rock glass. "The Lunar Court's protection will be difficult to work around given the night's recent developments."
"The restrictions," Valdora said solemnly, tucking a long strand of blond hair behind her ear. She held Jakob's eye. "I'm well aware, as are the majority of sorcerers, how hard you and your household fought for us. Especially your wife. Thank you."
Jakob bowed his head succinctly. "I'm sorry we failed."
"Me too," she lamented and tipped back her glass for a hearty drink. She came away coughing as the spirit burned her throat. "The Lunar Court may have outmaneuvered us on that point, but Ronan's second came up with a way to continue our search."
A thrill of hope danced up Ronan's spine. "Ana's been collecting the names of every courtier who has been at or within the vicinity of every rabidus attack. She was hoping to find a connection between the victims and our suspect pool, or at the very least, anticipate who might be targeted next. If we did that, we could set a trap." Ronan pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket.
He leaned forward and flattened it out across the table. The other two did as well to read the tiny scrawl.
"Names," Jakob murmured. "And not many."
"This is a list of every person who has been seen at the scene of the attacks multiple times cross-referenced with those who were known friends, allies, and associates of the Roux's victims."
"I thought they would all be sorcerers," Jakob said, sight dragging down the list.
Ronan shifted. "This list isn't purely a list of suspects. It's those who could also be the target of the attacks."
"Stella." Jakob's finger hovered near her name. "Irina told me she seeks employment and protection under my household, but I admit that I'm hesitant to do so."
"Why?" Valdora's brows hunched together. "Your household is a beacon for what this court could become."
"A beacon and a blight. My household's title is precarious at best, and it has taken much these past twenty years to keep it. The vampyré elite demand to see more of our kind among my family's numbers and withhold their support from us on important court matters. Contracting our resident banshee would cast undue suspicion amongst our adversaries."
Valdora's eyes widened, and Jakob gave a one-shoulder shrug.
"Before we could accept the banshee, we would need to bring at least two more vampyré into my household. That is not something I wish. Irina, Deval, and Nova aren't even out of their first fifty years. Though all are well-tempered, I cannot imagine adding any more to our family."
"For what it's worth, we don't believe Stella is the culprit," Ronan said.
"You think she is the target of the possessed; on that, we can agree," Jakob said. His eyes pursued the other names on the list. "You have Cavendish on here… I was not expecting to see his name, but he could most certainly be behind these attacks. His alchemy has always been most impressive and respected."
"I only spotted him at two of the events, but I found his presence and history noteworthy enough to add him."
Jakob's eyebrows raised in surprise before lowering. "I see Franklin Baum is on your list as well. Her name wouldn't have anything to do with…."
"No," Ronan cut in, keeping his expression neutral. "In fact, Franklin is there more as a representation of the Wildings as a whole. Their network is large, and they work closely with some sorcerers. They shouldn't be excluded."
Jakob's gaze flickered heavy-lidded to the list. "I see my charge has also made it on your wanted list."
Ronan swallowed and said hoarsely, "Bailey has been at most, if not at all incidents of possession. For the record, I don't believe she has anything to do with it."
"You think she's a target?" Ronan nodded grimly.
"Maybe in part as a way to get to your family. Perhaps vengeance isn't merely sought out against the Roux but the upper echelon of vampyrés at court. It hasn't escaped anyone's notice that most of the possessed have been high-ranking vampyrés."
"Gods." Jakob palmed his face and blew out a heavy stream of air. "Sometimes, I question my decision to come back to this place."
Ronan and Valdora waited for Jakob to find his composure. He glared at the list, then back to them.
"You've done excellent work. I have information to share that may help our joined cause. The victims I have encountered have all had a black spot on their palm." Jakob set down his drink and traced a circle on his palm. "I believe it to be the entry point for the curse." Jakob looked at Valdora. "Is that possible? Could the curse be delivered by such means—something as simple as the touch of a hand."
The sorceress cocked her head to the side. "It would need to be an extremely powerful sorcerer or sorceress to pass along a curse with only a touch. The more likely cause is that the possessed come into contact with a cursed object that then transfers the curse onto them."
"Such as jewelry?"
Valdora nodded her head vigorously.
Jakob hummed thoughtfully. "It hasn't escaped my notice that these recent possessions seem similar to the Cellar incident those months back. Those there claimed the infected had blackened eyes."
After a long pause, Ronan asked quietly, "Do you think the demons are involved somehow?"
"I won't rule them out," Jakob replied. "We know little about their abilities, which is exactly how they prefer it. But if they are involved, they've covered their tracks well. Let us add them to our list and keep an eye on them."
Ronan's answering nod stopped mid-motion as trepidation settled over him. A fission of discomfort bled through him. It wasn't the call of the shadow magic but something else. His heart squeezed uncomfortably as he passed a worrisome look over his shoulder toward the door. Valdora and Jakob’s gazes settled over him like a heavy weight, but he ducked his head to avoid their inquisitive gazes.
"Valdora, might I have a word alone with Ronan? You're welcome to our kitchen, it's at the end of that hall."
The sorceress tipped her head and left the room. Jakob assumed her vacated seat.
"Given all that's been shared tonight, I want to reassure you once more that should you feel the need to leave the court, I will keep Bailey safe."
Ronan's cheeks flamed. "That's not—"
"I know of your soulmark," Jakob said quietly. "To be clear, she did not confide in me this knowledge. Rather, I happened upon it when you came to visit me last about her."
"I see," Ronan said, keeping his eyes on the raven statuette.
"Bailey may not be blood, but she is part of this family. I hardly wish to meddle in her love life like some overbearing fa—” Jakob stopped himself short and cleared his throat. “My advice is not to fight it. A she-wolf is a remarkable asset to have in one's corner. I should know. I'll say no more on the matter, you’re a smart man, and I trust you to do the right thing.”
Jakob flashed a fanged grin which Ronan returned weakly.
“That being said,” Jakob continued. “I would like to commend you for coming to me, and to thank you. It is not easy to lead and to know that those under you would happily follow you into any battle. It is not a responsibility I take lightly, nor, I can see, do you. But do not be afraid to lean on them. Draw strength from your numbers."
Ronan's shoulders sank. Jakob’s words hit too close to home and on top of that his discomfort was increasing. He placed a hand over his soulmark and rubbed, all thoughts turning to Bailey.
"Do you know where she is now?"
Jakob raised a brow, then pointed to the third name on Ronan's shortlist, Franklin Baum.
XXI
The Cellar was more congested than usual. Warm and cold bodies crushed in from every direction. Bailey was waiting for Q to return with her cut of the evening’s work and had been for forty minutes. Around her stood a handful of other Wildings enjoying the night's recap delivered by Kiefer.
It was taking everything in her power not to throttle him, or any of them, for that matter. She’d known all along the Wildings took on the more unsavory jobs at court, but to be a party to it….
She was furious with herself and sickened. She couldn’t believe she’d ever defended them or their actions. To make matters worse, since arriving, she’d been the butt of every joke.
