The Eldritch Conspiracy

There was a tap at the door. Rawlins made a low, grumbling noise, then rose and left the room, closing the door behind him. I’m sure they didn’t think I could hear them through a closed door, especially since they were speaking softly. But my vampire nature was very close to the surface now, and that made eavesdropping easy.



“You have to let her go,” said a man’s voice, not one I recognized.



“The hell you say! She’s a freaking killer. She’s admitted it.” That was Detective Rawlins.



“Doesn’t matter. It was a righteous shoot. Even if it wasn’t, she’s got diplomatic immunity from two countries. She’s also a freaking celebrity, and she just foiled an assassination attempt on members of a royal family. We’ve got press screaming for blood, politicos riding our ass, and no good reason to keep her. We can bring her back in if we need to. For now, cut her loose.”



“Have you looked at her? She has fangs. She should be staked or put in a fucking cage. Even her attorney admits that she could lose control if she doesn’t eat.”



“So let her eat, and let her go.”



“Is that an order?”



A pause and then the voice lowered to a growl. “Does it need to be?”



There was a long silence. I could hear Rawlins breathing harshly. “We’ll wind up regretting this. When that time comes…”



“If that time comes, there’ll be a note in your file.” The voice made it a threat.



“Good,” Rawlins spat. “Glad to hear it.”



When they cut me loose, the first thing I did was grab my cell phone and dial Adriana’s number. The call went straight to voice mail. Annoying, but not unexpected. Roberto had told me that Lopaka and the others had been taken to the secure ward of a local hospital, but he didn’t know which one. If Adriana was there with her mother, it was likely that no call could reach her. So I dug out the card Baker had given me and keyed the number into my phone. The line rang only once.



“Princess.” Ah, caller ID, gotta love it.



“Special Agent Albright.”



She sounded both amused and exhausted. “Am I to assume the police have finally tired of interrogating you?”



“They have. How is the queen? Where are Adriana and the others?”



“Her Royal Majesty is in intensive care at St. Anthony’s Hospital. Princess Adriana is with her.”



Intensive care? It was that bad? I couldn’t help but worry. Despite only knowing her for a short time, I really liked Lopaka.



“What about Olga and Natasha?”



“They’re secure at the Ruslandic Embassy.”



“As soon as I can get some weapons, I’ll head over to the hospital.”



“Don’t bother. We’ve got it covered for now. Get some rest. Check in again in the morning.” She hung up before I could argue. No surprise. She had a lot on her plate.



My aunt, the queen of queens, the most powerful siren in the world, was in intensive care. Crap.



It took a minute for that to fully sink in, which told me just how distracted I was. Sirens are hard to kill. Very, very hard to kill. I’d seen one get shot to pieces and she had kept breathing, her damaged heart still beating. It isn’t public knowledge, but I had it on good authority that the only things that can actually kill a pure-blooded siren are weapons wielded in jealousy—an emotion that is a poison to us—or certain specially made magical artifacts.



The shooters in the car hadn’t been women, so jealousy wasn’t a factor. That told me two things. First, someone in the know had leaked exactly where we were going and when we’d be there. Second, the attackers had arranged for literally dozens of bullets to be spelled—because that was the only way to try to kill royal sirens. Even a thousand standard rounds wouldn’t be enough. The cost to prepare this attack, in both time and money, had to have been outrageous. So we were looking at a well-funded group with inside information and access to some of the top-tier mages in the world. Artifacts take a long time to produce, which meant that these had been created long before Adriana and Dahlmar’s engagement was announced. The wedding was just an excuse.



That was very interesting.



I couldn’t help Lopaka at the hospital. My job was to protect her daughter. I wouldn’t be able to do that properly without rest. I wanted to do that someplace safe. I also wanted to go over the intel Baker had given me, and see if there was a clue that would tell me who the traitor was.



Because there was a traitor. Someone allowed that limo to get close enough to kill.



12



“I really appreciate this, Emma.”



“So you’ve said … repeatedly.” She smiled to take the sting out of the words. “Seriously, it’s all right.” She handed me a nutrition shake. “Drink this. You’re glowing.”



She was right. I didn’t feel vampy, exactly, but I wasn’t myself, either. I’d been hungry back at the police station and while I was waiting for Emma to come pick me up. Now, back at her new home, not so much. Still, I twisted open the bottle and drank as Kevin shoved past me into the main living area.



I flinched. He was really pissed and not even trying to hide it. I hadn’t expected him to show up, but he and Emma had arrived in his big truck and Emma had given me a this-wasn’t-my-idea look as they pulled up to where I was sitting and watching cops and civilians flow in and out of the precinct house. The ride back to the old church had passed by in a silence cold enough to frost the windows of his truck. Emma might not mind my being here. Her brother obviously did.



The second I stepped into the living room Kevin turned to me, his expression granite. In a flat yet furious voice he said, “Computer, big screen, channel six.”



At the far end of the room, the television came on. The perky brunette and her silver-haired coanchor wore grim expressions as film of the front of the destroyed bridal shop ran in the background, immediately followed by photos of King Dahlmar and Princess Adriana.



“A terrorist group calling itself the Guardians of the Faith has used various social networks to claim responsibility for the attack.” A close-up of a screenshot appeared; the group’s avatar was a blue-green S bisected diagonally by a bloody harpoon. I’d seen that symbol before, but couldn’t remember where or when.



I pummeled my brain, searching for the answer as the anchorwoman droned on. “The group has vowed to continue the violence against all sirens unless King Dahlmar breaks off his engagement. Our sources say that the governments of all three nations are treating this as a credible threat.” An image flashed onto the screen of a note written in a foreign language, accompanied by photocopied pictures of Lopaka’s face, Adriana’s, and mine, all marred by black “X” marks.



My stomach heaved and I locked my knees to keep from swaying on my feet. It’s one thing to hear you’ve been targeted. It’s quite another to see it in color on the big screen.



“Damn it, Kevin!” Emma was seriously pissed. Her eyes were blazing and there were two spots of color on her cheeks. “Was that necessary?”



Her brother was perfectly calm. Smug, even. The bastard. “She wasn’t taking it seriously enough. She never does. She brought you into it without a second thought.”



Emma rounded on him in fury, hands balled into fists at her sides. “You didn’t have to do it that way. You were deliberately brutal and callous and you know it.”



“Celia’s tougher than you give her credit for. Quit treating her like a fragile snowflake.” Kevin made a disgusted noise and stomped over to fling himself into a recliner. Emma led me to a nearby chair, where I sat down hard and lowered my head into my hands. Above and around me, I heard Emma and her brother arguing and the television playing sound bites of statements released by the Ruslandic and Siren ambassadors, but nothing really sank in. Terrorists. I was being hunted by armed, organized, freaking terrorists.



“She needs to know what you’re risking, having her here,” Kevin said.



Emma glared at him. “It’s my choice to make,”



He slammed a fist down on the armrest, causing his assistance dog, Paulie, to raise her head just a bit. “It’s unnecessary. There are other places she can go. Places that won’t endanger you.”



Keeping Emma safe had always been Kevin’s main priority. It was why he and his father had served me up as bait for the insane siren, Eirene, a serious misstep that had cost me my friendship with Warren and nearly cost me my life. But Emma had grown tired of being babied. She was a grown woman now, capable of striking back and of making her own decisions.



“Not tonight, she can’t. The cops took her guns as evidence, remember?” Emma argued. “Bruno can’t get into her office until morning.”



He can’t? Why not? I opened my mouth to ask, but she’d moved a step forward and was pointing a finger at her brother’s nose. “Celia’s staying here until the sun comes up, and that’s final. This is my home and it’s my choice, Kevin. Mine. Not Daddy’s, not yours. Mine.”



“I don’t like it.” He probably meant having me here. Then again, maybe not. Having Emma stand up to him probably wasn’t a happy development in his life.



“You don’t have to.” Emma met his gaze without flinching. Points to Emma. Kevin was maybe a step and a half from going wolfy. His eyes were glowing amber and I swear his teeth looked sharper than normal. He was clenching and unclenching his fingers around the arms of the chair. It might have gone further if Paulie hadn’t placed herself between the two of them and started barking.



Kevin glared at the dog and she sank into a sit. But she didn’t move out of the way, just stared at him with those huge brown eyes: calm, trusting.



He sighed and closed his eyes.



“I’m going to go outside and calm down.”



“Good idea.” Emma’s words were crisp. “Meanwhile, I’ll fix us all something to eat.”



“Come on, Paulie.” Kevin strode through the living area to a side door, the dog at his heels. I couldn’t help but heave a sigh of relief as the door closed behind them. Kevin was not himself. Not at all. Maybe being out in quiet and moonlight would help. I was betting he’d go to the little walled cemetery on the west side of the building. I’d wandered through it when I’d visited before and seen that it really was old, two hundred years at least. Where the stones could be read, they told of the missionaries who founded the church and of their very first converts. They’d probably been such true believers that there wasn’t even a single ghost left to haunt the place. Hopefully the graveyard would be peaceful enough to soothe Kevin’s troubled soul.