Steel Victory (Steel Empire Book 1) (8 page)

Victory realized she had missed Fabbri’s retort when Tristan’s deep voice resonated off the council room’s walls. “You are a lying bitch!”

She prepared to jump into the fray when Tristan’s apparent insult roused the meeker human councilmembers to attention. Lucia Stein, the eldest member of the council, leaned to whisper in Fabbri’s ear. Victory’s vampiric hearing picked up her reminder that to Tristan, “bitch” was just another term for a lower-ranking female. Still an insult, but not as great as it could have been.

Instead, Victory shifted to her right. “What did I miss?”

Out of the corner of her mouth, Lena said, “Emily is blaming her sign on fights breaking out in her restaurant. Pay attention, girl.”

Only she and Asaron could get away with calling Victory that. Outliving every other citizen of Limani with the exception of the more reclusive elves had a few privileges. And with privilege came responsibility. Fabbri mouthing off again directed her attention back to the present.

“My restaurant is private property! I have the right to deny service to anyone I choose.”

“What, like ‘No shirt, no shoes, no service’?” From where he lounged at the opposite end of Victory’s side of the table, Max radiated a veneer of unconcern. “But now it’s ‘No humanity, no pure blood, no service’?”

Fabbri looked down her nose at him. “Humanity has nothing to do with it. And I don’t see what your concern is. My policy doesn’t affect you.”

“Please.” Max smirked at her. “Do your research. I don’t just age well, I’m one-fourth elven, darling.” He toasted her with his glass of water.

She blanched, and faced the head of the table. “Don’t we have better things to discuss tonight, Alex?”

Alexander Sethri, human head of the Limani city council, had sat in impartial silence. He eyed Fabbri over his steepled fingers. “I think that while there is such dissent amongst our ranks, anything else we review tonight will be tainted by our strong emotions. And believe me, Emily—they are very strong.” He lapsed back into quiet calm, his disapproval made known.

“What are you looking for here, Fabbri?” Time for one of her fellow human representatives to speak up. Soren Abramson looked up and down the table. “For us to back your idiotic notions simply because you’re afraid of anything different?”

“I am not afraid of them.”

Victory swallowed the snort that threatened to erupt. “Please. You called the police on my daughter, a half-trained warrior-mage, before confronting her yourself. The only reason you didn’t do the same to me was because it’s bad politics to have councilmembers fighting in public.”

“I didn’t call the police on you because you didn’t storm in looking for a fight,” Fabbri said. “You at least have a reputation for civilization. I could not be sure about your daughter.” The biting emphasis on her last word showed her true opinion of their relationship.

“And what makes you so sure Torialanthas would cause trouble?” Toria’s given name rolled off the lips of another heretofore-silent observer. Daliana, this decade’s representative of Limani’s elven population, had watched the debate with the same aloofness she possessed during more routine discussions about traffic laws and residential codes.

“You mean beside her history of violence? The girl was a killer before she even graduated from high school!” Fabbri lit with success, the pleasure at being able to pull this trump card evident in her voice.

“You go too far, Fabbri.” With surprising defensiveness, Tristan beat Victory to the punch.

But if ever there was a time to speak in her daughter’s defense without seeming too biased, this was it. “The death that resulted at Toria’s hands was that of a criminal.” Victory kept her voice even, but her short nails dug into her thighs under the table. “Toria acted in order to protect her family.” She smiled at Fabbri, allowing a hint of fang to show. “But you wouldn’t get that, would you? Since you were just elected to council less than six months ago.”

“Elected is the key word there,” Fabbri said. “I earned my place on this council. What have you done besides live for a long time?”

“You mean beside doing her job keeping Limani safe from vampires who see humans as snack food free for the taking?” Lorus said. “What, exactly, have you done for this city, Fabbri?”

“My position on the council is not under debate here,” Victory said. “Your decision to discriminate against other citizens of Limani is.”

“Emily, your actions do contradict the oath you swore when you joined the council to uphold the values that make Limani a peaceful community,” Soren said. “And that’s grounds to impeach you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Fabbri said.

“I would.” Max raised a hand. “I would impeach you. Then kick you out of the city on top of it. While I don’t think the others would agree to exile you, I think I might have a little bit of backup for the impeachment.”

“Seconded,” chorused Victory and Tristan.

Max held out his hands in a “what can you do?” shrug. “And there we go. The proposal is on the table.”

“No one has been impeached by the council for over fifty years,” Lena said. “Victory, do you remember the proper procedures?”

Since she was the sole member of the current council to be present at that last event, it was a logical question. Victory shook her head. “That was a long time ago, and it was because Quinn murdered someone. Another councilmember. It wasn’t a hard decision to make, so I don’t remember the details. Alexander, you must have reviewed those council procedures more recently than any of us.”

“I don’t know the exact procedures offhand,” Sethri said. “I do know that an impeachment cannot occur during the same meeting as the proposal in order to prevent us from being ruled by our emotions instead of common sense.”

“So we break to review the policy,” Soren said. “I’d say this calls for an emergency session for tomorrow night.”

“As do I,” Lena said. “Despite how in favor I am of this impeachment, I’d still rather it be done correctly.”

“That is one representative from both the elected and appointed sides of the council,” Sethri said. “Seems fair enough to me. Anyone else have any complaints?” Fabbri raised her hand. “Beside you, Emily.” She put her hand back down with a fierce glare toward the head of the table. “It’s settled then. I hereby call an official council session tomorrow night led by Lena in order to follow proper impeachment procedure.” He made a note in the book in front of him without waiting for any argument.

Victory made her own mental note to thank Max the next time she caught him alone. She had resolved to bring up the issue of impeachment had no one else gone that far. However, if the idea had not been seconded, her place on the council could have become tenuous indeed. No other vampires lived in Limani to replace either her title of Master of the City or accompanying seat on the council. Max had a strong hold on his leadership of the local Mercenary Guild, but she knew he would have no regrets if forced to pack up and move on. He would probably follow through with his threats to finally retire to live out the rest of his life with the elves.

No drastic steps were needed. Instead, she noted her strongest backers. Now the problem would be to make the impeachment stick. Fabbri’s humanist superiority would be more difficult to argue than Quinn’s murder.

The elitist tone in Fabbri’s voice dragged her attention back to the present. “Now that this nasty business has been decided,” she said, “what are we going to do about the Roman army marching toward Limani?”

Asaron rapped on the doorframe to the den soon after Victory and Max left for the council meeting. “Travel gear. We’ve got work to do.”

Roused from the book on tactics she’d snagged from Max’s office, Toria blinked up at Asaron. “What?”

“Max gave me a mission,” Asaron said.

She stood, placing a slip of paper in the book to mark her place. “Does this have to do with the Roman troop movements he mentioned to us?”

Asaron escorted her through the kitchen and to the bottom of the stairs, explaining, “I hope it’s just simple training maneuvers. But I’m not inclined to take anything from them for granted now.”

Toria paused. “Kane coming with us?”

“You do come as a matched set. I’ll grab him from the library. You’ve got ten minutes.”

“One problem. The only gear I have here at the house is from two years ago. The new set from my latest growth spurt is back at the apartment.”

“You’re a smart girl. You’ll figure something out.”

A few steps up, Toria halted and looked back at Asaron again. “Does Mama know we’re going?” Mikelos had ensconced himself in his studio most of the day, but had headed into town after Victory left with Max, muttering about a replacement C string. Toria knew from long experience that once he and the proprietor of the local music supply store started talking, her father might be gone for hours. If Mikelos was even let in the shop. Victory had warned him about the sign in the window over dinner, but Mikelos was determined that friendship would win out.

Chagrin crossed Asaron’s face. “You actually think your mother would let me take you anywhere near an army? Why do you think we’re leaving while she’s at council?”

“Good point. We’ll leave a note.” She bounded up the stairs when Asaron headed back down the hallway in search of her partner. Starting an expedition by night was never her first choice, but she’d grown used to it during her previous journeyman stint with her grandfather.

Once in her old bedroom, Toria ransacked her closet for something suitable since her leather armor was stored in the supply trunk at her apartment. She and Kane hadn’t lived in this house since starting college. Jeans replaced her cutoffs, and a black long-sleeved shirt went over her skimpy tank top. But her old duster was here, and after buckling on her belt with its various supply hooks and pouches, she snagged it from behind her bedroom door.

Toria met Kane in the hall coming out of his old bedroom. He was attired in a similar fashion, though he’d scrounged up a set of his old leather pants. He trailed after her back downstairs, where Toria pushed open a set of grand double doors off the main foyer. Since the beginning of Victory’s occupancy, the wooden floor of the old manor house’s formal ballroom had supported more martial forms of footwork. After joining with Kane and becoming a warrior-mage, she spent even more time in this room than in the magical workroom in the attic.

Kane pulled their swords—her returned rapier and his own elegant, curved shamshir—from the bags they’d left in the corner while Toria rummaged in a chest on the other side of the room for sword harnesses. Next came the knives, which they strapped to belt, ankle, and wrists. Toria had just turned to eye the locked cabinet in the far corner of the room when Asaron poked his head in.

“Ready to go?” he asked

“Once you tell us where we’re going,” Kane said, sheathing the shamshir across his back.

“And,” Toria said, “are we going to need guns?”

That stopped Asaron short, and Toria remembered that to the ancient vampire, firearms were still a modern novelty. Victory told her once that she’d had to more or less pry his crossbow out of his fingers to get him to pick up a musket for a try.

Then again, Asaron probably also viewed them as a passing fad. Part of the massive spell the elves cast over the world after the Last War prevented the creation of new firearms. Bullets were easy enough to manufacture—lead, steel, silver, whatever form needed for whatever creature needed fighting. But these days, guns were disappearing from normal wear and tear.

Her mother wasn’t a huge fan of guns either, but she kept a small stock in the locked cabinet in the most discreet corner of the training room. There were a few small pistols she and Kane trained on, along with a rifle and antique shotgun. Even a peculiar submachine gun picked up by Asaron in his travels and “forgotten” at the manor.

“I think we’ll be okay. Just a scouting run. The Roman army shouldn’t be that tough.”

Kane swallowed back a snort of surprise. “The Roman army? We’re not chasing that lead. Are we?”

On occasion, Mikelos imagined that music flowed through his blood and soul the way his daughter manipulated magic. But in his case, music was not what he had been born to. Instead, it had rescued him from a short life before he burned out into obscurity.

After being expelled from the Roman orphanage upon reaching his majority, Mikelos earned a scant living singing on street corners. One night, a young man swept out of the darkness to give him so much more. The vampire Connor welcomed him into the world of music and darkness, teaching him the art of the violin and transforming his entire world. Vampire and daywalker had formed a string duo that dazzled the elite of Old Europa’s society for almost two centuries. Mikelos transformed from homeless orphan to pampered musician. He had a family, even if it was a bit unconventional. He was happy.

Then Connor disappeared. Mikelos was left adrift once again, mortal, in a world changing faster than he could keep up. So he crossed the sea and settled in Limani, hoping to live out the rest of his days in anonymity, no longer connected to the famous concert pair long vanished across the ocean in a different world.

But Mikelos never lost his music. Taking Connor’s name for his own, he returned to his roots, playing street corners for spare change to supplement his day job. A few years passed, and then another vampire blew into his life. Once again, Mikelos found himself a daywalker, a human for whom time stood still. But now he was a true partner, and Victory cherished him for bringing intimacy to her cold life just as he treasured her for bringing meaning back to his.

Violin case thumping against his thigh, Mikelos pulled the strap of his messenger bag higher onto his shoulder to balance the weight of the two bags. Hans had finally kicked him out of his music shop a few minutes before, citing that some people did sleep during the night. He’d also promised to pull the offensive sign from the window, which Mikelos considered a win. Mikelos left the High Note with one C string and several books of new music from the British colonies. The night had been a success.