The Ravenous Dark, page 42
"What is it?"
Bailey's eyes lifted to his. "I know him."
He arched an eyebrow. "I wouldn't be surprised if you knew every person on these pages."
Bailey shook her head.
"He was my last job. A banished courtier. It says here he was spotted in the Styx a couple of times recently, but how can that be if he was banished?"
"Someone most likely smuggled him in… for a hefty price." Ronan took the paper from her and read it. "Jonathon Malinski?" Ronan's brow furrowed. "Why do I know that name?" he muttered to himself.
"You do?" Bailey perked up. "He's a sorcerer, but I don't know what clan—hey, wait!"
Ronan shot off the bed and strode toward the door, taking the full stack of paper with him. Bailey nearly toppled the tray of goodies he'd brought in her haste to catch up to him. "Stupid sheets," she grumbled, snagging a blanket from the end of the bed, and wrapping it around herself. She hurried after him, finding him quickly between the trail of his scent and their bond.
The loud rummaging coming from his office didn't hurt either.
"What are you looking for?" Bailey closed the door quietly behind her.
"We keep records on each courtier."
"Creepy."
Ronan snorted. The stack of papers was tossed on his desk as he moved to a filing cabinet tucked cleverly inside a built-in bookshelf. "Everyone does. Find the right information about people's strengths, weaknesses, and powers, and you can start playing the game, rather than being a pawn."
"And what game is that exactly?" She questioned with subtle interest.
"The one everyone is in whether they like it or not. Power. The power to shape, influence, and push the agenda of supernaturalkind whichever way you want. Vampyrés have enjoyed a stranglehold on supernatural politics for centuries even though they're bound to the night. If a shift doesn't happen soon, all will suffer the consequences."
Bailey walked to his side. "When you said you and Jax were searching for power in the Otherworld, that's what it was for? You wanted power to rival the vampyres " Ronan nodded tersely. "What would you change?" she whispered.
Ronan stopped and straightened. "An equal distribution of power to start. Put rules into place that apply to all supernaturals and aren't cherry-picked to hinder the growth of others. Stop the needless death of innocent people for the amusement and appetite of vampyrés."
Bailey's lips parted in awe before a tentative smile bloomed on her lips. "You and Jax were ready to throw down, weren't you?"
Ronan's throat bobbed uncomfortably. "I wish I could claim credit, but it was Jax's idea. It was his desire for a better court that drove us. He wanted a place where anyone could thrive, regardless of their pedigree."
He went back to his search, stalling as he came to a slim folder. He tugged it free and flipped it open. Bailey craned her neck to see the contents. Malinski's face stared back at her in a candid photo. He wore robes the color of bright amber. She scanned his information and drew in a sharp breath.
"He was from the Gamayun clan? Of course!" Bailey nearly smacked herself. The robe wasn't amber—it was citrine.
Bailey readjusted the blanket. There was something she was missing from the bigger picture. It danced at the recesses of her mind out of reach, and then it hit her.
Citrine… or the most atrocious shade of chartreuse?
She turned her wide-eyed stare to Ronan. He was looking at her expectantly. "Have you heard of a rogue sorcerer at court?" He nodded, understanding dawning on him. "It's him."
"You're sure?"
Bailey's mouth opened but then she shut it to shake her head. "It's more of a hunch. Jax mentioned it once, and more recently, I overheard some courtiers talking about a rogue sorcerer rumored to be behind the attacks. They said he wore chartreuse."
Ronan took a moment to absorb the information. Then his brows hunched forward. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't chartreuse green?"
"It ranges on a yellow-green spectrum,” she informed him, happy that her knowledge of fashion practically forced upon her by the court was coming to use.
"And you think they were referencing his robe?" Bailey nodded hesitantly. Ronan sighed. "It's not that far-fetched of an idea," he confirmed. He laid out the folder on his desk next to the other papers. "What was your job with Malinski?"
"We delivered a message to him and—"
Guilt clogged her throat as memories of the night flashed in her mind's eye. The poignant scent of Malinski’s family’s terror washed over her all over again.
"What is it?" Ronan abandoned the paperwork. He gripped her hips, turning her toward him as he tried in vain to catch her eye. "Talk to me. What happened? Why are you so upset, Bailey?"
"I was so stupid," she admitted. "I thought I'd never do shit like that—"
"Shit like what?" He demanded, finally locking eyes with her. Bailey bit her tongue. "What did they make you do?"
"They used me to intimidate his family. Woods purposefully stepped on my tail, and when I snapped, it was right as Malinski's family was passing by." Her eyes slipped shut. "I terrified them, Ronan. I never wanted to be the Wilding's muscle or anything close to it. I told Franklin that right from the start, but I got suckered into it anyway," she said.
Ronan pulled her into his chest and ran his hand over her back. Bailey sniffled and continued.
"They said Kiefer and I were there to be backup, in case Malinski ran or things went awry. Not to scare someone's family and for a book at that."
Bailey half-expected judgment from Ronan, a reprimand, or an "I told you so," after the warnings he gave her in the past. The opposite came. Compassion and empathy swathed her as he held her tighter.
"You're not the first person they've fooled into thinking they can keep themselves out of their less respectable forms of business."
She stayed silent a moment, before pulling back to look up at him. "Did you just call me a fool?"
Ronan smirked and kissed her forehead. "I might have inadvertently, but the important thing is you're through with them now." Bailey offered a small smile in return, but her guilt remained steadfast in the pit of her stomach. She was summoning the nerve to tell him about Franklin's earlier threat, but before she could share, he spoke. "What was the book?"
Bailey shrugged. "I only know that Malinski was reluctant to hand it over and tried to act like he didn't have it. He said something about not wanting to be a part of whatever they were doing anymore." Bailey paused and frowned. "Except he never specified what it was or who he was involved with."
Ronan moved back to the scattered pile of information on his desk. Bailey followed his lead, rummaging through the papers looking for a clue that would tie everything neatly together and give them the answers they sought.
She caught sight of Jakob's familiar looping script and picked up the paper. Bailey expected more dictations on the goings-on of suspected courtiers and targets, not a list detailing every instance of the curse happening in court. Bailey shifted uncomfortably to see the number of times her name was listed, and Stella’s.
Her eyes made it halfway down the list before she saw Luka's name next to hers.
Bailey cringed, but then something far more concerning caught her eye.
The blood rushed from her face.
"What is it? What's wrong" Ronan asked gravely.
Bailey stifled a groan. The perks she imagined coming with the soulmark were being out shadowed by its more pervasive nature. Hiding anything from him would be near impossible—both physically and emotionally.
"Did I happen to mention needing to speak to you before I fell asleep?"
Ronan's eyes narrowed. "You did."
"Right, well." Bailey flushed. "Something happened, er, recently."
"Go on," Ronan prompted when she went no farther.
"After the whole Malinski fiasco, I went on a bit of a bender," she blurted out contritely.
Ronan's jaw tightened minutely. "I'm aware. I've been keeping tabs on you." Bailey blinked owlishly at him in return.
"You have?"
"Yes," he said, eyes still narrowed suspiciously on her. "Not 24/7, but throughout most of the night, a raven checks in discreetly on your goings-on and whereabouts."
"Does that mean I have a file, too?" Her attention drifted toward the built-in.
"Bailey." The purr of her name drew her gaze back to him. "What happened?"
"Right." She cleared her throat. "I was drowning my sorrows—which you already know—and somehow made it back to my room. But when I woke up, there were things in my room." She passed him the paper in her hand. "Dozens upon dozens of little pieces of paper," she explained with growing seriousness. "All of them had black spots on them, like the ones Jakob describes here —" She pointed out the comments. "—on the victims’ palms."
Ronan froze. "Dozens upon dozens were left somehow in your room while you were intoxicated?"
She nodded. "I recognized them as the same marks, too, when one of the spots moved." Bailey shivered at the flash of memory. "I tossed them all in the fireplace."
The file in his hands crumpled loudly, as an influx of anger sifted through their bond. "Why didn't you say something earlier? I was worried you might be being targeted, and now I'm sure of it."
Her flush deepened defensively. "I haven't exactly been in the right headspace the past few nights, okay? It's just been one thing after another, with the next thing always seeming more important than the last."
"And what was the next thing that happened to you after your discovery of the black spots in your room?"
Bailey crossed her arms. "You in the Commons."
Her seething retort quickly brought Ronan to heel. Their heightened anger crackled like live wires between them, hard to tame yet easy to understand. As that understanding grew, their anger lessened.
"I'm sorry," Ronan said.
Bailey nodded and self-consciously tucked her hair behind her ear. "Me too. I should have said something immediately. Hell, River was there in my room right after it happened. I should have at least told her, but I was so worried about the implication, and then she said she was thinking of leaving the court." Ronan rested a hand on her arm, gaze filling with concern. "Like I said, one thing after another's been happening. It's been hard to keep my head straight."
He kissed her. The velvet pass of his lips over hers brought comfort that was difficult not to be swept away in completely. She pulled away as her desires began to rise to dangerous levels.
"We have to stay focused," she said, dodging his seeking lips though her body and heart protested. It was too easy to lose herself in him.
"Right," Ronan agreed, tongue sweeping across his lips. Bailey tracked the movement with longing. "Let's go back to Malinski and this book. By your account, he said he didn't want to be part of something anymore. Let's assume you’re right, and he is the rumored sorcerer, and that something he didn't want to be part of is the rabidus curse. If that's the case, he’s most definitely working with someone else, and the book is—"
"A spell book or grimoire," Bailey finished with growing excitement. "It may contain the curse."
Ronan nodded, eyes alighting. He sat at his desk's chair and began fingering through the papers in front of him.
"Exactly. Do you know who the book was going to?" Bailey shook her head. "Would it have been delivered straight away or…?"
"It was delivered the same evening." Bailey eyed Ronan's rifling. "What are you looking for?"
"The evening report for the other night. If the book was logged, we might learn who it was delivered to."
"And discover who Malinski was in league with. We can stop them."
Their eyes locked briefly. "Did the book have any distinctive markings on it? Books are passed around the court rather frequently."
Bailey thought for a moment before nodding slowly. "It did, um." She squeezed one eye shut as she located the memory. "It was a golden W."
A sharp rap on the office door stalled their investigation.
"Come in," Ronan called. Ana entered, her cheeks pink and a file in hand.
"Good, you're still here," she said in lieu of a greeting, her eyes barely coasting over Bailey in approval before zeroing in on Ronan. "Percy just found a body."
"Whose?" He sat straighter.
"Luka Krovopuskov."
Awkward, stilted silence converged upon the three. Ana crossed her arms over her chest as she directed her gaze to Bailey. The she-wolf fought to find the proper words to respond.
"Can I safely assume she knows about your new little magic trick?" Ana asked Ronan.
"Bailey knows everything." Ronan stood and slipped his hand around hers.
"Lovely, then we can skip straight to the point. Ronan was obviously there in his shadow form and saw the entire debacle between you and Luka. After he returned to us and relayed what happened, ravens were sent to check discreetly on the situation.
"You and the body were both reported gone by the time they came around. Thus, it was assumed you successfully disposed of his body. Except, clearly, you didn't. Does this sound accurate?" Ana inquired. Her voice was deceptively calm as she came farther into the room.
"Up until the point where I successfully disposed of his body." Ana showed no sign of shock or surprise. "I panicked." Bailey shrugged pathetically. "So, I got help."
"From whom?"
Bailey glanced shamefaced at Ronan. "The Wildings."
Ana crossed the remaining distance between them, passing Ronan the file she had entered with. "And therein lies problem number two. There are Wildings at the door, and they're asking for Bailey. They say she missed an appointment with Franklin."
The she-wolf cursed and ran a hand through her hair in agitation.
"Which leads to problem number three," Bailey said. "Before coming here—just before I left Stella's and ran into you, Ronan—I bumped into Franklin. She implied that she hadn't gotten rid of Luka's body and that if I didn't meet her at six, Irina would be getting a nasty surprise. I know, I know, I should have said something immediately but—"
"Take a breath, Bailey," Ronan coaxed, squeezing her hand as her panic began to rise. "We'll take care of this. Ana, get Percy and a few others to dispose of the body properly."
"I'm already one step ahead of you, boss."
Both Ronan and Bailey sighed in relief. Ana grinned at the act of synchronicity, but it faltered at the end. "There's one last thing that's going to need your attention, Ronan."
"What is it?"
"It's Valdora. Lark and Wren told me they caught early whispers of a planned raid on her apartment." The blood rushed from Ronan's face. "She can't say anything about the work she's been doing with us. She swore a blood oath," Ana reminded him coolly.
"Yes, but she's been doing extensive research trying to find the curse's origins in the privacy of her apartment. And if she's taken any notes on the matter…."
Ana nodded grimly. "Whatever they find in there, they'll twist to use against her and maybe even us. I already told Lark and Wren to give her a heads up. But you should tell our allies what may be to come. Calm the storm before the eye hits."
A frantic knock sounded at the door, startling them all. Callum's head popped in.
"What is it?" Ronan barked. Callum slipped inside, eyeing the trio with trepidation.
"More Wildings at the door demanding Bailey. They're threatening to come inside and drag her out."
"Over my dead body," Ronan growled, stalking around the desk. Bailey grappled to keep her hold on his hand.
"Stop, Ronan. I'll go—"
"Like hell, you will!"
Bailey's eyes flashed gold as they went toe-to-toe. His fear and anger sizzled between them, and it took all her focus not to sink into his emotions. "Think Ronan; you can't be everywhere at once. You need to get ahead of the Valdora situation ASAP. I'll deal with Franklin and make it clear to her that under no circumstances will I be continuing my work for them."
"I don't like this," Ronan said. "Things are happening all at once—a raid on Valdora? Luka's body showing up? Franklin demanding your presence? Something isn't right." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "What if I'm summoned as the shadowmancer—"
"We take it one step at a time, okay? Let's deal with what's happening now and worry about what could happen later." Bailey cupped his face, and he leaned into the touch. "Don't worry; we're in this together now. We can do anything."
She kissed him. Grim determination filled their soulmark bond, and as they came apart, a reckless excitement stole over Bailey. Ronan cocked an eyebrow at her.
"Promise me you won't go looking for trouble with the Wildings."
"I never go looking for trouble."
"I know, I know, trouble finds you." Ronan rolled his eyes but then leveled her with a meaningful scowl. "Promise me you'll be careful."
"I will," she said and glanced down at her makeshift toga. "But first, I need an outfit change."
XXVII
One hour. If I’m not back in one hour, he’ll come for me.
The thought set her heart racing as she was escorted down the hall by four Wildings. She knew somewhere not far behind, a small band of ravens shadowed her in case trouble arose before the hour was up.
"Where are we going?" Bailey asked as they descended the grand staircase to the sixth subfloor.
"Somewhere private," Nia replied nonchalantly.
"She thinks the Styx is private?" Bailey lobbed back as the gambling hall came into view. A hand pushed insistently in the middle of her back. Bailey glowered over her shoulder at Woods, but he was stone-faced.
"There's more to the bottom floor than just the Styx," Nia corrected her and led the group to the oversized double-doors directly across from the grand staircase. Bailey frowned as they entered the courtier wing. It was only her second time venturing into the territory, and it set her on edge.
