God Save the Queen (The Immortal Empire) (34 page)

“What were you thinking, going after the shooter alone?” demanded Vex, so angry I could practically feel the heat of it on my cheeks.

“My job,” I replied, shifting against the pillows. I winced – the entire left side of my torso felt like it had been pounded, ripped apart and set on fire, which I supposed it had. “Why did you chase after me?”

“If the situation were reversed, wouldn’t you run after me?”

He had a point, but I was the one trained for this sort of thing. “You could have been hurt.”

His rugged features twisted in annoyance. “Please. If I hadn’t followed you, you wouldn’t be here. The prince wouldn’t have given you to anyone else.”

“Why not?” The tunnel had to have been swimming with halvies by that time.

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Xandra, you were shot from behind.”

Fang me and chew the wound. “I was shot by an RG? But I’d be certain the bullet had been silver. You’ve got to be joking.” When I saw that he wasn’t, “Who? Which bastard fired without being certain I was clear?”

Vex shrugged. “They don’t know. No one’s owned up to firing before they had a visual on the bastard, and once they did, they put more holes in him than a fucking lace doily.”

I ignored his antiquated comparison. “No one admitted to it?” No, I suppose no one would want that on their record, or the suspension that would come with it.

He took my hand in one of his. His fingers were so warm I almost sighed in bliss. Thank God for whatever meds they’d pumped into me, because right now I was just relaxed enough that hysteria couldn’t take hold.

He looked me dead in the eye, and made sure I was paying attention before he spoke. “I don’t think it was an accident.”

It was ludicrous. Ridiculous. Paranoid. And if it wasn’t for Simon’s death – murder – I would have laughed it off as impossible. But my life had been turned upside bloody down the past few weeks and I’d be mental to say anything was impossible at this point. A fortnight ago I would have claimed my mother being alive was impossible.

“Xandra?”

I glanced up. Vex wore a slightly pained expression. “What is it?”

“I think you just broke one of my fingers.”

I immediately let go, staring at his hand in horror as I eased my grip. I’d left white marks on his skin, and his left ring finger was bent at a strange angle.

“Bloody hell,” I whispered. “Vex, I’m so sorry.”

He popped the bone back in place with little more than a grimace. “Nothing that can’t be fixed.” His grey gaze locked with mine once again, but there was something in his eyes I couldn’t name. “I didn’t know halvies were so strong.”

“I didn’t either,” I replied. In fact I was certain I shouldn’t have been able to hurt a were like that. Human bones were different; they were brittle compared to an aristo’s. “Vex, what the ruddy hell is wrong with me?”

He took my hand again – brave man. “I don’t know, but we’ll find out.”

Since I’d first started to “forget” to take my supplements I’d noticed more and more changes. Humans hadn’t smelled like food before that. Everything felt … sharper.

Now I fancied I could hear nurses talking at their station, their voices low. I could smell the stale scent of piss from a long-ago patient beneath layers of cleaning fluids and disinfectants used in this room. And from where I lay, I could look up at Vex and count the dark individual lengths of his eyelashes.

The blood I was uncomfortably certain the prince had given me could account for some of that, but I’d noticed changes before tonight. What if the supplements that were supposed to keep me healthy, dampen those vampiric urges, suppressed the parts of me that were unusual? Ophelia had told me as much. What if I, like Vex’s son, leaned more toward an aristo genetic code than normal? It would explain my reaction to tetracycline.

“You’re going to be all right,” Vex told me. Coming from him it really did sound like a promise rather than a trite remark to make me feel better.

I pulled off a weak smile. “I suppose if I was well and truly buggered I would have found out long before this, wouldn’t I?”

His eyes sparkled. “Before you reached the advanced age of two and twenty? I expect so.”

“You must think I’m such a child.” I couldn’t even say it was the drugs talking, because those were pretty much gone. I suppose I was feeling a little sorry for myself, as well as sore.

“Yes,” he agreed with a mocking frown. “Because pain makes most people behave in a mature and rational manner.”

I flushed. I’m such an idiot at times. “You know what I mean.”

“No. I don’t.” He leaned down and kissed me. Even his lips seemed incredibly warm. “I think you’re adorable – in a completely mature and aged way.”

It hurt to laugh, but I needed the release. I was still chuckling – and groaning – when the nurse came in.

“Time for your medicine,” she remarked, holding up a needle. If that was for pain, I was glad of it. I’d never hurt like this before, and rest would only help me heal faster.

As though reading my thoughts, Vex gave my hand another squeeze. “I’m going to go. You get some rest and I’ll be back later.”

“Good,” I said. He kissed me again, nodded at the nurse and left.

The nurse smiled at me. “He’s a fine one.”

“Mm,” I agreed. “I think so.”

She came closer and slipped the tip of the needle into the small port on the IV attached to my arm. That was when I noticed the salt-water blue peeking out from beneath her green hair. I looked
past the glasses on her nose and the dark hue of her skin. The glasses were just that – plain glass – and the warm honey tone of her skin was purely cosmetic. She was also wearing coloured contact lenses, but her nose was almost exactly like mine.

I grabbed her by the front of her uniform and hauled her against the rail along the side of my bed, my battered insides screaming in protest.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demanded around clenched teeth.

Ophelia pushed against my fist. “Let go of me, freak. I’m here to help you. This needle has Prometheus Protein in it.”

I could feel her heart hammering against my fist. She was afraid – maybe of me, or maybe of getting caught, but it was enough for me to let her go.

“Why would I need your help?” I asked, suspicious, peevish as she depressed the plunger. By injecting me with the protein responsible for the aristo mutation, she would essentially jack my body into healing itself. The hospital staff had probably given me a watered-down version – the legal dose – already, but a concentrated shot would only make me heal all the faster.

Though there was a chance it would also make the differences in me that much more pronounced.

“Because you’re not safe here,” she hissed, casting a glance towards the door. Then she turned to me with a shake of her head. “I still can’t believe you’re shagging the alpha.”

“Why?” She didn’t have to sound so freaking surprised. “Did you think your liege had better taste in women?”

“No, I thought it went against your vampire-loving sensibilities.” She wiped the now empty syringe with the edge of my sheet and tossed it in the sharps bin. No prints. Clever. “What’s your precious Churchill have to say about it?”

“My personal life is no more Church’s business than it is yours,”
I retorted, though she had struck a nerve. Everyone, even the general populace, seemed to have an opinion on my private concerns.

“I wonder what Vex sees in you?” she mused with a smirk. “I suppose it’s your feral nature.”

I glared at her. “Fuck off.”

My back ached and itched – the shot she’d given me was working already, forcing my battered body to repair itself. “What is it to you anyway? Jealous?”

The mockery in her eyes faded. “He’s a good man. I don’t want to see him get hurt.”

I met her gaze. If I could beat her senseless with my eyes I would, but she was sincere in her concern for Vex. She’d probably known Duncan. “Neither do I.”

“Then we don’t have a problem.” Her smile was mockingly sweet. “Word from our human connections is that tonight’s attack on Victoria was a hired hit.”

“And?” I asked, knowing from the gleam in her eye that there was more.

She lowered her head to whisper near my ear. “Hired by an aristo.”

I froze. I think my heart might have stopped for a second. I turned my head so that we were practically nose to nose. “You believe this?”

“I do. They wouldn’t have told us at all, except the assassin was killed. And you got shot.”

I snorted. “As if they care what happens to a stinking halvie.”

Was that pity in her blue eyes? “There was only one intended target, Xandra, and it wasn’t you. That you put yourself in front of that bullet makes you honourable, whether human, halvie or aristo.”

Her words caught me so far off guard, the only expression I could muster was a scowl. “I did my job, that’s it.”

A teasing glint brightened her eyes. “Look at you, all humble and annoyed. You’ll be famous when the morning rags come out.”

I hadn’t thought of that. I supposed taking a bullet for one’s sovereign was newsworthy. Fang me. I was not looking forward to this.

“Good PR for the RGs,” Ophelia remarked. “Mayhap you’ll get a promotion.”

My heart jumped at the thought. “Is there something else you wanted to say?”

The light in her eyes died. “Mum was terrified when we heard the news.”

Throat clenched, I clung to my surliness. “So distraught she had to come see me for herself.”

My sister’s face tightened. “I had to stop her from doing that very thing, brat.”

I shifted against the pillows, wincing as the healing muscle and tissue inside me protested against the movement. My gaze locked with hers, and I saw nothing but honesty – indignant at that – reflected back. “Why? She hasn’t seen me for years, and you don’t even know me.”

She looked affronted. “You’re my sister.”

Something else we had in common: a sense of familial loyalty that was as knobbed up as it was commendable. I wasn’t about to throw out my arms and spout poetry about the love of sisters, but I was touched.

“Thank you,” I said, some of the fight draining out of me. “You can tell her that I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You were shot – twice. Once by someone on your own side. Xandra, you’re truly not safe here.”

“As safe as I am anywhere else. Whoever shot me knows me. I wouldn’t even begin to guess who to suspect.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Her stare bored into mine. “Maybe you
should think on that. I have something for you.” She reached into her pocket. When she brought her hand out, she offered her closed fist to me. Slowly, her fingers unfurled. In her palm was a spent slug wrapped in tissue. It was silver, with bits of dried blood on it.

“It’s the one they took out of you,” she explained. “The one that wasn’t from the human’s weapon.”

“You stole it?” I could have slapped her. And maybe hugged her. “Albert’s fangs, woman! It’s evidence!”

“Evidence that someone tried to steal not thirty seconds after I grabbed it. I had to hide in a cupboard to keep from being seen.”

I took the metal from her, careful not to touch it with my bare skin. As it was, the tissue was little protection. My thumb and forefinger began to sting. “How do you know he was after this?”

“Because when he discovered the bullet wasn’t there, he made a call to someone telling them it was gone. The person on the other end was not impressed.”

I set the bullet on my lap, where layers of sheet and clothing would protect me from it. What had I landed myself in? “Did you recognise the voice?”

She shook her head, her expression rueful. “It was familiar, but I haven’t run with London’s respectable crowd for a long time. Most of my life’s been spent in Scotland.”

I knew that. I stared at the squashed bullet. It was a relatively small thing, yet it had done so much damage. “Still, the human was apparently shot by every RG in pursuit. Even if I found a match, there’d be no way to prove whose gun fired it.”

Ophelia arched a brow. In that moment it was almost like looking in a mirror – except for the fact that she had made her skin so dark. “I reckon you’ve got a real puzzle in front of you then. Oh, I have something else for you as well. From Dede.”

I glanced at the door, making sure there was no one there, listening to our damning conversation. “What?”

She pulled an envelope from inside her “borrowed” uniform. “Here.”

I opened the flap and pulled out several photographs – the kind taken with an Ensign “immediate” camera. The first showed Lord Ainsley and his wife.

“Did Dede take these?” I demanded, glancing up. It was one thing for her to be a traitor, but another thing altogether for her to risk herself for a bastard who never loved her.

Ophelia jerked her chin towards the photos. “Look at the next one.”

I did, and the image captured made my heart skip a beat. There was Ainsley, Lady Ainsley and their son. He was a little boy of approximately four or five years of age, with shaggy blond hair and green eyes.

“Fang me,” I whispered. There could be no denying the kid’s parentage; he had his father’s hair, but he had his mother’s green eyes. He looked just like her.