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Authors: Amy Corwin

BOOK: A Fall of Silver
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She stumbled backward against her chair
, the chair’s wheels rolling it across the floor. “No.” Her legs felt as rubbery as a doll’s.

Why did I take that pill
?

The chair skid
ded behind her and rebounded against the wall before bumping into her as she tried to retreat. She nearly lost her balance. She gripped the backrest only to have the chair slither away again, dragging her off balance.

“What did you say?” Her father’s voice dripped with
“you’re about to be punished” iciness.

“Stay away!
” She stumbled back another step.

“I’
d never hurt you, kiddo. You’re my child. Just come here.”

“Kethan!” she
called, hating the panic that compressed her voice. Her eyes locked on her father’s face.

He was barely recognizable
, his features distorted and elongated as vampiric blood-lust twisted him into a stranger.

She
clutched the chair’s back. “Stay away! I don’t want to hurt you!”

“You wo
n’t. You’d never hurt us.”

“Because you
’ll blow my head off if I try?”

He paused for one second before gliding
a foot closer. “We’d never harm you. You know that.”

“Yeah.
I’ll never feel a thing, right?” As she edged backward to stay out of his reach, she tripped over the starfish-shaped wheeled base of her chair. With a grunt, she fell into the seat. The chair rolled back and hit the wall.

Pain shot through her neck
as her head snapped back, reminding her of the soft, vulnerable spot at the base of her skull. It had barely healed from surgery. Her heart fluttered with a sense of her own vulnerability.

Seeing her trapped against the wall, her father
smiled. She blinked, and he was there, leaning over her. One large hand grabbed the crown of her head as he pushed her head sideways.

The sharp tips of his teeth dimpled
her neck.

“No!” S
he shoved her fist into his chest.

His breath,
foul with the stench of decayed blood and earth, brushed her face. Icy lips brushed the old scar below her jaw.

He froze
.

Digging her heels into the
waxy floor tiles, she frantically tried to scoot the chair away. Her shoes squeaked and slipped. The chair wouldn’t budge. She was trapped against the wall.

Her father stared at her with dead shark eyes. The end of a yellow pencil quivered in his chest.
A single drop of blood rolled down the bright yellow wood and dripped from the eraser onto her hand.

It burned.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, numb with horror. She frantically rubbed the searing drop of blood off her hand.

He
stood there for an eternity staring at her, the flaming red light slowly fading from the depths of his gray eyes. For one second, she thought she saw a final glimmer of the man she remembered, the father she had once known. Then his features dissolved in an explosion of hot ash.

Holding her arm in front of her face, she huddled in her chair
. Smoky trails of sparks and dust singed her forearms and settled around her, burning her hair and skin.

When she finally
lowered her arms and opened her eyes, she whimpered and brushed the burning cinders off her lap. Sick at heart, she sat against the wall, too stunned to move.

Did I—s
he couldn’t think about it. The agony threatened to crush her. It was unendurable.

Her gaze
instinctively sought Kethan.

He stood in the midst of broken furniture, a wooden table leg
clutched in his hand. A fine, white powder covered his hair and face. The drift extended down his shoulders and arms as if someone had sprinkled baby powder all over him.

“Mom?” She scanned the room with increasing desperation. “Mom?”

Her mother was gone.

Sutton
and his two companions stood a few feet away, staring at Kethan. Their faces wore a tense mixture of surprise, respect, and fear.

“Quicksilver!” Kethan
tossed the piece of wood to the floor. “Are you all right?”

“I—
” Her voice broke. She nodded, a sharp pain constricting her throat.

He crossed the room and pulled her out of the chair
to cradle her in his arms. “I’m sorry,” he murmured into her hair, hugging her.

“Is she dead?”
Her voice shook.

“Yes.
I’m sorry—I failed. I didn’t realize how desperate they were, how violent. I should have met with them separately.”

“To do what?
Get killed?”

“No
. But if I’d talked to them—”

She couldn’t let him take the blame.
This was her mess. “It wouldn’t have made any difference.”

“The
lady were right,” Sutton said, watching them cautiously. “There were nothing you could have done. They tried and failed.”

“I should’
ve protected you.” Kethan stroked her hair and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I should never have let you come.”


No—no. I’m okay.” Finding the energy to speak exhausted her. Her head throbbed dully as frantic thoughts of blame and guilt spun in circles.

Over and over again
, she tried to tell herself she hadn’t really killed her father. He’d died years ago. His death wasn’t her fault.

B
ut in that split second before he died, she’d seen her real father, the one she’d known as a child. Her heart ached with longing, wishing she’d been able to feel his arms around her one last time.

He
’d been human for a second, and he’d loved her.

“I just want to go home,
” she whispered. “Your home.”

“Our home,” Kethan answered before draping an arm around her shoulder and turning toward the door.

Chapter Thirty-Two

“We ha
d no part in this.” Sutton followed them into the hallway. “We want no battle with you and yours.”

Kethan
eyed him, feeling as if he’d aged another century or so. He rested a hand on Quicksilver’s slender shoulder when she wavered, clearly exhausted.

“The talks—”

“They’ll continue?” Sutton interrupted.

“Why do you care?” Quicksilver
’s voice sounded low and tired, as if she couldn’t conceive of anyone wanting to continue the talks.

“I
be master here, but I never wanted it, and I don’t fancy his church making me pay for something I never asked for.”

Suddenly, Kethan didn’t want to leave without something settled, without
accomplishing something amidst so much loss. “Sit. We’ll talk for a few minutes.”

Sutton studied him.
“A few minutes? That were enough time?”

“I no longer represent
the Church, you know that, Mr. Sutton. I can’t promise anything on its behalf, but if I were to present them with an advantageous arrangement, they might listen.”

“And what
be to our advantage?” Sutton asked, although he sat in the chair Kethan indicated.

Steering Quicksilver to the chair on his right, Kethan waited until the remaining vampires sat before he took his chair again.
“An arrangement to everyone’s advantage. That was the original goal. It’s still our goal.”

“Undis
turbed sleep were to our interest.” Sutton grinned at his two clan members. “No hunters. Nor slayers, neither.” His measuring gaze rested on Quicksilver. “And there’s her.”

“No
, not anymore. Not unless you force her to defend herself.” He pressed her cold hand. It quivered beneath his palm before she caught his gaze and nodded.

“Or the children. If you touch any children…
.” She let her threat drift off as if too exhausted to finish, but her eyes burned with the intensity of her promise.

Sutton gave one sharp nod.

“So what do you offer us?” Kethan asked.

He shrugged.
“What can we offer you? We must feed.”


Then focus your attention on consenting adults. Only those willing and no conversions.”

“Our clan
were small, too small for that!” Sutton’s clenched fist hit the tabletop. “No! To that we can’t agree! The Red Dragon—”

“The prairie
separates you. The buffer zone remains as it always did.”

“And we must be strong enough to enforce it
! And what of the Toltecs from the south? ‘Tis trouble there, of a certainty, and what of the remnants of the clan those two vampires brought with them? We’ve enemies on all fronts still, though we’ve destroyed two of them.”

“Me
rge with those who followed the Bankes here. That’ll increase your number to nearly one hundred. A strong clan, the strongest ever seen here.”

“We’ve no blood link with those heathens
, nothing to bind them to us.”

“I
nduct them.”

“Induct them?
What do you know of such things?”

“I know you can force them to share blood with you
. You taste of theirs, they of yours. Make them your clan.”

Sutton studied him with eyes deep with suspicion.
“And how would a human know of such things?”


Humans have been around as long as you. We’ve learned a thing or two.” Kethan leaned back in his chair and looped an arm over the back, striving for nonchalance. There were some secrets best left buried, like his own past. “A good negotiator always learns what he can of those with whom he bargains.”

“The C
hurch! That’s where you learned our ways.” Sutton turned his head and spat on the floor. “The bloody, high-and-mighty Church. They keep their secrets and ours alike, so I should’ve guessed as much. Well, we can share blood, right enough, but who’s to say they were willing?”

“Are
n’t you the master? A master vampire could force them to obey, to join his clan or perish.”

“Aye, I be master, damn you
. But strangers?” He shook his head. “Can I trust them? I know my brothers. We came here together, have been here together for over four hundred years. When you know what a man’s made of, you can trust him.”

“Then you refuse?
If there’s no agreement, I’ll have to inform the Church. They’ll be free to use whatever means they believe are necessary to protect the innocents.”


Then let them slay the heathens—”

“They must do what they believe is right,” Kethan
countered easily, rubbing his neck as if bored. “If they set the Jesuits to vampire-slaying, well, I suspect they’ll kill vampires. I doubt they’ll ask first which clan.”

“Th
en we’ll take what we need from the humans to protect ourselves!”

“And so you
’ll have weak fledglings, and you’ll face the Church, the remnants of the southern clan, and the Red Dragon should she chose to test your strength despite the buffer zone.”

“Enough fledglings for cannon fodder
!”


How long do you think you’ll last? How long before your own clan turns in on itself with squabbles and rivalry to wrest control from a leader too weak to protect them on three fronts?”

“I be
strong enough!”

“Peace,” Father Donatello said. “There is no need for threats.”

“You weren’t strong enough to fight the vampire who made you.” Quicksilver countered, ignoring Father Donatello’s attempt to defuse the mounting tension. “What makes you think you’re strong enough to fight the Red Dragon?”

Kethan caught her glance and nodded.
“You can’t afford this, Mr. Sutton. That’s why you agreed to these negotiations. Nothing has changed. Only two vampires are dead, the two who were your immediate threat.”

“And she,”
Sutton pointed to Quicksilver, “has changed. You changed her, to your sorrow. The Church has no warriors to compare with her. She’ll do no killing, now. She’s lost her taste for it. So perhaps we’ve nothing to fear.”

“Oh
, I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Quicksilver raised her head. Her eyes gleamed. “I’ve still got my weapons. All I need is a reason, one small reason, like a dead girl.”

“The fury
’s gone.” Sutton shook his head and rubbed the smug grin tugging his lips. “I’ve seen that.”


I don’t need to be insane with anger to use the whips. So if I were you, I wouldn’t rely on that saving you.” She glanced at Kethan and blushed. “If this doesn’t work out, that is.”

Sutton
shrugged, but Kethan saw a flicker of wariness in the vampire’s eyes.

“So what terms?” Sutton
asked, his voice casual, his gaze fixated on a spot seven inches above Kethan’s left shoulder.

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