Blood Kin (19 page)

If it were true, my father was playing a dangerous game.

And my mother and Reggie might be right in the middle of it.

Come to think of it, so might I.

* * *

The sky was starting to show the first hints of dawn light when I finally returned to the Swallow. I had taken the time to go over the rest of the rooms in Cormen’s town house, hoping to find a trace of either my mother or Reggie. But despite the faint hint of rosewater in one of the bedrooms—a scent Reggie favored along with half the female population of the City—there was nothing to give me any reason to think Cormen had brought them there.

A side trip to the salon in Gillygate had proved similarly fruitless. So really, all I had to show for the night, other than the discovery that my father possessed a Halcyon token, were eyes that felt as if they’d been dipped in sand, a fervent desire for sleep, and an increasing feeling of desperation.

I opened the door to my rooms carefully and slipped inside. Guy still lay on the bed, looking as if he hadn’t moved from where I’d left him. Somehow in the few hours I’d been gone, he’d left a stamp on the room—a masculine scent of leather and soap and faint hints of whiskey mingling with my own perfumes.

A momentary hint of insanity made me want to crawl in beside him, but I pushed it away. Instead I stole across to my wardrobe, pulled a blanket from the top shelf, and curled up on my small sofa to steal a few hours of sleep myself.

GUY

“I thought Templars would be early risers.”

The voice swam through my consciousness accompanied by a strong scent of coffee. But it didn’t help me break through the fog of sleep holding me down.

“Guy
.
”

The voice was sharper now.

“We have work to do.”

A finger poked my shoulder. That was enough to kick my instincts into action. My hand snapped up and grabbed
as my eyes snapped open.

“Guy!” Holly’s face was outraged. “Let go.”

I loosened my grip, still somewhat confused as to where exactly I was. “Never wake a sleeping soldier.”

“I called you several times,” Holly said, rubbing her forearm ruefully. I belatedly remembered what Simon had said about her bones still being fragile, and winced.

“Next time,” she continued, “I’ll use a bucket of cold water.”

I doubted there would be a next time. I was usually a light sleeper. Which made me wonder why I wasn’t today.

“What time is it?” I asked while I sorted out my recollections of last night. I reached for the coffee Holly held out, and froze as I saw the snarling beast on the back of my hand. Memories crashed back with a vengeance. I swallowed coffee so I wouldn’t start swearing.

“It’s close to three,” Holly said.

“In the afternoon?” The sunlight pouring into the room made this somewhat a stupid question. But the habit of rising for dawn services was so ingrained that I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d slept past sunrise. “What did you do to me?”

Holly tilted her head, little rivers of sunlight gleaming on her hair. “Me? You’re the one who drank most of a bottle of whiskey last night. If you’re feeling sorry for yourself this afternoon, I’d imagine that might have something to do with it.”

I inhaled more coffee, considering. Perhaps she was right. There’s only so long you can go without enough sleep, after all, and adding more alcohol than I’d drunk in one sitting for a long while to the mix couldn’t have helped any. But I was rested now, or at least some semblance of rested, the coffee scalding away the cobwebs in my head quite nicely. “You should have woken me earlier. We have work to do.”

“Most of the people you’re interested in are asleep right now,” Holly said. “Besides which, I’m not letting you go anywhere near them until I’m sure you understand how to behave.”

“I know how to behave.”

“In your world, you do. This isn’t your world. Mistakes could get you—or both of us—killed.”

“I—”

“Don’t argue. You wanted someone to help you find out things you can’t find out on your own. So it would make sense if you’d listen to me and let me do just that.”

I regarded the dregs of the coffee in my mug for a time. She had a point. I didn’t particularly like it but it was nonetheless a valid point. I drained the coffee and held it out for a refill. “Fine. Start talking.”

HOLLY

By the time the sun had set and the Night World was beginning to think about stirring, I was just about all talked out. I had given Guy a crash course in surviving the border boroughs and the edges of the Night World but still wasn’t sure that either of us was truly ready for what faced us.

Trouble was, after almost a week in St. Giles, I was out of touch myself. Things were shifting fast enough in the Blood Court that five days might as well be five months. Which was why I had decided that our first port of call had to be the Gilt.

Now I just had to convince Guy. Who, after a day cooped up in my room, was prowling around like a dog too long on the chain. The fact that he looked very good prowling was one I was trying to ignore.

“Can we go yet?” he asked as he finished his latest circuit of the room.

I looked over at the tiny carriage clock on my dressing table. “It’s early yet. It will be a few more hours before things pick up around here.”

“So we just sit here?”

“No.” I shook my head. I didn’t think that being confined to quarters with Guy for much longer was a good idea. Or my good intentions might just decide to decamp. “No, now I get changed and we’ll go out and make a spectacle of ourselves. Show everyone that I’ve caught myself a fine new man.” I managed to sound careless as I said it. But it was far from the truth. The longer I’d talked today, the more nervous I’d become about what we were trying to do.

That little black box I’d found at Cormen’s weighed on my mind. Veil’s eyes, if he was mixed up with some Blood plot . . . I’d swung from worrying about my mother and Reggie and what the hell Cormen was involved in to trying to ignore the effect that proximity to Guy was having on my baser instincts all day.

The combination was making me distinctly seasick.

And there was no one to throw me a life preserver.

I’d gotten myself into this mess and I was going to have to get myself safely to shore again.

“Where exactly?”

Guy’s question broke my spiral of worry once again. I considered his point. The more time we spent in public, the better. It would give people a reason to talk and keep both of us occupied. We’d spent the better part of a day in my rooms. People would already be assuming that we’d put the bed to good use.

“Dinner first,” I said.

“Here?”

“No. The Swallow’s clientele is mostly human. We need somewhere with more . . . scope. Somewhere with Night Worlders. Where we can see what there is to see.” And be seen ourselves, more to the point. See what the Night World made of Guy DuCaine out on the town with a half-breed Fae like me. See if that rattled any cages amongst those who knew what I did. Then our dangerous charade could begin in earnest.

“Where, then?”

“We’ll go to Justine’s. Always plenty of people there. And then we’ll go to the late show at the Gilt.” Friday night, the Gilt started its mostly respectable opera a little earlier and then, after that was done, put on a more risqué show to keep the crowds in their seats and spending money on wine and food.

“Opera?” Guy looked as though he’d swigged a mouthful of soured wine.

“The late show isn’t opera. Just singing and dancing.” I hid a smile, wondering exactly what my straitlaced knight would make of the sorts of songs and dances he was about to be subjected to. “It will be fun. Besides, the Beast packs are fond of opera.”

That sharpened his gaze.

“The Favreaus?”

“Christophe is often there, yes. And where the alpha goes, so go others in the pack.” Of course, we didn’t know if the Favreaus were behind the attacks on the Templars or if Christophe knew anything about it, but it was as good a place as any to see what might come crawling out of the woodwork.

“Will he be there tonight?”

“I don’t know. Even if he’s not, we’re sure to learn something useful. Trust me.”

“We don’t have days to waste on frivolities.” Guy’s mouth was set. Unconvinced, the Templar.

“I know,” I said. I knew it better than he did, most likely. “But you still need to trust me.” I gave him a stern glance, then crossed the room. “And we both need the right clothes.” I threw open the wardrobe and studied my choices. Not black. Black was for Blood Assemblies. The Gilt required something showier. More flamboyant. I reached for Reggie’s latest creation, lifting it carefully from the rack and holding it at arm’s length.

Definitely showy. Heavy silk in a bronze gold shade like the edges of a peacock’s feather, it fit like a snake skin, apart from the bustled rear of the skirt, which billowed and flowed down in tier after tier of small ruffles that swayed when I walked, drawing the eye to my behind.

The neckline plunged and swooped, doing the same for my décolletage in the front. Reggie had beaded and embroidered long curling feathers here and there on the skirt and bodice, picking out highlights with a deeper green like a real peacock.

Reggie, who’d never actually seen me wearing the dress in public. Reggie, who might never see it.
No
. I pushed the anxiety away. I couldn’t afford it just now. I needed all my wits about me.

I forced myself to focus back on the dress. It was spectacular and tarty and, really, just what the Gilt required. Of course, it required a ridiculous corset to make it fit. I would have to send for someone to help me put it on.

“What’s wrong?” Guy asked as I laid the dress carefully across the bed.

“I’ll need help with my laces. I’ll just—”

“I can do it.

My eyebrows shot up. “You?”

“Don’t look so shocked. I have dealt with women’s underwear before,” he said.

I wasn’t shocked that he knew; I was shocked by the flutter in my stomach at the thought of him lacing me up, his fingers on my back and waist.

“It looked busy downstairs. Why pull one of the servants away from their work when I can help?” He leaned back in the chair slightly, a challenging gleam in his eyes.

So we were back to our little dance, were we? I contemplated the flutter in my stomach for a few more seconds. Guy thought he was calling my bluff. Let him continue to think that.

But I was rapidly realizing that there was only one likely ending to this particular waltz. Eventually we were going to give in to whatever it was that caused the flutters in my stomach and the heat I felt in his kisses.

One of us would fold. And then we would end up in bed. It was inevitable. Even if I was going to do my damnedest to delay as long as possible, I was also going to enjoy the dance.

“If you’re sure you don’t mind,” I said, letting my own voice turn lazy and female.

“Sugar, if you’re meeting men who mind helping you with your underwear, you’re meeting the wrong sort of men.”

“Are you
sure
you’re a Templar?” I said as I returned to the wardrobe to fetch the corset. It was a thing of beauty, like the dress, but I still regarded it with reluctance. The corsets I wore under my day dresses were designed to be done up by a woman alone and laced more loosely than the ones that went with Reggie’s confections, which could leave me feeling light-headed if I wasn’t careful.

“Turn your back,” I said, feeling suddenly shy.

“Won’t that make lacing you up difficult?”

“I’ll tell you when I need your help.” I wasn’t sure that if he stood there watching me take off my clothes, I wouldn’t just give in right now and throw myself at him. We had a job to do tonight. Which meant doing what we’d come here to do rather than what my body wanted to do.

Guy rolled his eyes but obeyed, standing and turning around, arms folded across his chest.

I unbuttoned my dress, unlaced my normal corset and slithered into the silk drawers that went with the gown before picking up the corset.

“You can turn around now,” I said when I had the front secured. I was devoutly thankful that the silk of the drawers was the same color as the dress rather than a more revealing white or pale pink. Maybe Reggie was psychic.