Blood Heir Read online

  At the time, I’d guessed that Darren was a First. The legend said that during prehistoric times some humans made bargains with animal deities, and that’s how the first shapeshifters came about. Descendants of those bloodlines were very rare, even during the time of the Old Shinar. I only knew of one—Curran.

  The Firsts were capable of remarkable things. Other shapeshifters sensed them somehow and would follow them through fire.

  Derek wasn’t a First. Someone would have recognized it by now. It wasn’t a thing one could hide. His dad had gone loup, and the Firsts had the highest loup resistance. According to Erra, they were practically loup-proof. And if his mother had been a First, she would have squashed his dad like a bug the first time he raised his hand to her. Whatever that magnetic thing was, the old Derek didn’t have it.

  Becoming a beta of anything was a hundred-and-eighty-degree turn for him. Derek hadn’t just shown zero interest in climbing the shapeshifter leadership ladder, he actively avoided it. Desandra had offered him the beta position repeatedly and he’d declined every time. So, he left Atlanta for no apparent reason, went up to Alaska, and became the de facto ruler of Ice Fury. Why?

  I could just imagine Curran’s reaction to it. Why did you have to go across the country to be a beta there? What’s wrong with the Pack I built? Is it not to your liking? What was so bad about it that you had to move to a frozen hellhole and run around the woods with a bunch of crazy people who don’t want to be people anymore?

  I dragged my hand across my face. I would not want to be there for that conversation.

  When Curran retired from being Beast Lord, a group of people from his immediate circle separated with him. Like Curran, they enjoyed immunity. They had a right to be in the Pack’s territory without being subject to Jim’s authority.

  Derek was one of those people. But now he was also the beta of a rival pack.

  If he truly was the beta of Ice Fury, his presence in Atlanta was a catastrophe. Shapeshifters, especially high-ranking shapeshifters, didn’t just enter other packs’ territory. There were protocols in place, and Derek hadn’t followed any of them, or Ascanio wouldn’t be chasing him all around the city.

  It looked bad. It looked like Derek had snuck into the city to assess the Atlanta Pack for a possible attack. Although Ice Fury was far away, rival shapeshifter packs were known to stage raids. On the surface the idea was absurd because of the distances involved, but shapeshifters were a paranoid lot.

  The very act of him entering Atlanta could be taken as a declaration of war. And yet the Pack probably couldn’t do much to him personally because of his immunity. This was a diplomatic nightmare.

  I stared at the wall, trying to sort through this tangled mess in my head. Now would be the perfect moment for some wise wizard or a messenger of some god to pop in and explain it all to me.

  Derek was in Atlanta illegally, and Ascanio was chasing him all around the city. Most likely, Ascanio hadn’t reported it to anyone because, according to Derek, he had a mysterious score to settle.

  Ascanio always had an angle, and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what it was. How did this benefit him? Was he planning to subdue Derek and bring him in, pulling him out like a rabbit from a hat? Look at who I found!

  He probably had no idea Derek was Darren Argent.

  It would backfire. Oh dear gods, it would so backfire. If Ascanio somehow succeeded, he would assault and drag a foreign beta before the Beast Lord. If he failed and got hurt, a foreign beta would have injured the beta of Clan Bouda.

  The two of them were idiots. What were they even doing? They hadn’t seen each other in years. They were two grown men. There had to be more to this than some teenage feud. I felt like I was looking at a heap of puzzle pieces with all of the corners missing.

  And now Nick knew. Nick, who was in love with Desandra and who was the stepfather to her two boys. In a shapeshifter war, Desandra would be on the front lines, and unless the Order gave him their blessing, Nick wouldn’t be able to fight beside her. He would react. I had no idea how, but it would be bad. Really, really bad.

  I had to contain Nick. I’d bought myself a little bit of time, but I couldn’t dodge him forever.

  If Curran were still the Beast Lord, Derek would have been given about six hours of freedom, and then he would get a formal invitation. Something along the lines of, “We’re delighted that the beta of Ice Fury has graced us with his presence and anxiously await his arrival at the Keep. We’re dying to meet him face to face.” It would have been delivered by Clan Rat, and knowing them, it would just magically appear on Derek’s pillow while he took a shower.

  Where were the rats? Clan Rat handled the Pack’s security. I hadn’t seen a single rat operative in the city. They were very good, so I might not have noticed them, but still, they would keep an eye on Ascanio.

  What in the bloody hell was going on with Atlanta’s Pack?

  Argh. I didn’t have time for any of this. I needed to get to Mark Rudolph and squeeze the information out of him before any more people got murdered or the ma’avirim made their next move.

  My head was killing me. I desperately needed rest. Either I went to bed now or my body would shut me down and I’d fall asleep right here, on the floor.

  Maybe I would get a flash of brilliance in the morning.

  I locked my doors, both of them, and dragged myself to bed.

  14

  The morning brought a fresh magic wave, and a strong one too. The lotuses in the basin bloomed in seconds, and now their petals glowed gently above the water.

  I brewed a fresh pot of tea and built a fire in the cauldron. The flames licked the dry wood, it caught, and I tossed a handful of herbs into the fire. They ignited in a flash, turning the flames blood-red. Magic splayed from the cauldron. I grasped it and reached through it to my grandmother.

  Her voice came through first.

  “Seven days! How very modern of you.”

  The flames snapped into the image of my grandmother. Tall and broad-shouldered, in real life she towered over me. Like Kate, she was stunning. Powerful face, beautiful features, bronze skin, and a wealth of black hair streaming down over her shoulders. I’d seen her in armor and in formal gowns, with gold jewelry tracing her brow and neck. Seeing her in a tank top and sweatpants never failed to crack me up.

  “Ungrateful child. I see you smirking. Was my worrying funny to you?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Ugh.” Erra shook her head. “Tell me everything that’s happened.”

  By the time I brought her up to speed, I was on my second cup of tea.

  “What a damn mess.”

  Don’t I know it.

  “What are you going to do about Feldman?”

  “Depends on where his mind is when I meet him this morning. I must contain him at all costs, or he might mobilize the Chapter and start a manhunt to find Derek. Or worse, he might rope the Pack into it.”

  “That man is good at keeping secrets. Use it.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Erra frowned. “Tell me about this divine beast.”

  “I have no idea what it is. I have never seen that magic signature before. I’ve never heard of anyone eating some creature’s heart to see the future. There are legends of people eating mystical birds’ hearts and gaining magic powers, but nothing that fits.”

  My grandmother tapped her fingernails on something, thinking. “You said the historian had a chance to flee, but she didn’t take it.”

  “Yes. It looked like she started to but stopped.”

  “It must have spoken to her.”

  “Why?”

  Erra drained her cup. “An academic like her would be trained to keep an open mind. Something made her more curious than frightened, and as a teacher, she would place great value on communication. If the beast spoke, she would stop and listen to it. She would reason and ask questions.”

  How did I not see it before? “That makes perfect sense.”

&nb
sp; The list of creatures that could speak was short. The general rule was if the creature was depicted with a human head, it had the power of speech, provided it reached a high level of magic or the right age. Lamassu was one. The manticore was one, too, although the manticores I’d run across were beast-like and never spoke. Sphinxes. Nagas. Harpies.

  “An idiot would have run away and kept running. Sometimes our intelligence is to our detriment.” Erra sighed. “There has been a development. If you hear about any incidents related to the Casino and necromancers, try to avoid that area.”

  “Why?”

  Erra hesitated.

  “Grandmother?”

  “Namtur is in Atlanta.”

  I choked on my tea. “What is the High Sakkan doing here?”

  “Damned if I know. He said he wanted a ‘respite.’ I gave him a month, and what does that ingrate do with his vacation? He goes to Atlanta and gets himself captured by the necromancers.”

  Now her frantic attempts to reach me made sense. Namtur was a ticking time bomb. She didn’t even trust Hugh enough to tell him about it. Probably because he would’ve dropped everything and come to drag Namtur out of Atlanta before he caused a massive incident.

  “He let the People capture him? How are they still alive?”

  “They’re alive because he has some kind of scheme.”

  “That’s what I am afraid of.” When Namtur schemed, streets ran red with blood. Literally. “I thought we agreed that I would handle Atlanta on my own.”

  Erra raised her hands. “I didn’t send him there! I didn’t even know where he was until Ghastek called us two days ago.”

  Ghastek, the head of the People, now EIN, in Atlanta, was trouble. He was calculating and ruthless. A navigator armed with a single vampire could wipe out a SWAT team in seconds. Ghastek could easily pilot two at a time and had enough navigators under his command to massacre everyone in the city in twenty-four hours. I couldn’t afford him as an enemy. Not right now.

  “What did Ghastek want?”

  “He wanted me to send someone to escort Namtur back. He’s worried about Namtur’s safety because he is elderly.”

  I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

  “That was my reaction, too.”

  “Could he know who Namtur is?”

  Erra grimaced. “I doubt it. That old fox can look so decrepit, you’d think he couldn’t make it up a flight of stairs.”

  “Ghastek is a lot of things, but he isn’t an idiot. If he has even an inkling of what Namtur is, he wouldn’t have detained him.”

  “I honestly don’t think he knows.” Erra shook her head. “None of this is your problem. I just wanted to warn you, so if something happens, you don’t run headfirst into the Casino and get exposed.”

  If Namtur started killing the EIN personnel, Kate would get involved. Kate and Ghastek had a complicated relationship. When Grandfather attacked the city to subdue Kate, Ghastek had thrown his lot in with Kate. For a short time, he became her Legatus, the head of the navigators under her banner. When Kate gave up her claim to the city, he had argued against it. I remembered hearing that conversation. He’d actually raised his voice. For some reason, he desperately needed her to remain in power, but she had no interest in ruling anyone or anything. They had had a falling out over it, but Kate considered him a friend. If Namtur caused trouble, she would come to Ghastek’s defense.

  That was the last thing I needed. “I’ll go and get him.”

  “He can handle himself. He made that mess. He can get himself out of it.”

  “Grandmother, he is your blood brother. He can’t be allowed to run around unsupervised in the city with the ma’avirim sniffing all over the place, Ghastek plotting gods know what and me trying to hide. I’ll go and get him right now. He likes me. He will come with me.”

  “If you pick him up, you won’t be able to get rid of him.”

  “I’ll find him something to do. I love you. I have to go now.”

  “I love you, too. Be careful.”

  “Always.”

  Of all the places in Atlanta, the EIN Casino was my least favorite. Cavernous and devoid of windows, the main floor resembled a luxurious cave decorated in rich purple and gold hues and filled with rows and rows of slot machines. Entering through the main gate put you straight in the middle of it. The slot machines, rigged to work during magic or tech, flashed with bright lights and played jarring music, keeping the patrons awake. The people in front of them stared at the screens with vacant eyes, while waiters glided between them, offering alcohol and caffeinated drinks. There was something infantile about the bright lights, oversaturated colors, and treats delivered on demand, and the chaos of it unraveled you, until you lost yourself to ringing tunes and spinning screens and became one of the anonymous gamblers.

  I turned left, where two journeywomen in identical purple blouses and black pencil skirts waited behind a marble counter. The path from sensing an undead to becoming a full-fledged navigator and earning the coveted Master of the Dead title was long and took years. Those who embarked on it became journeymen. Most of them never made it.

  I flashed my Order ID. “Please let Mr. Stefanoff know that I’m here to pick up Mr. Sakkan.”

  When talking to non-Shinar people, Namtur used his title as his last name.

  “Please wait,” the shorter journeywoman told me.

  I parked myself in the lounge area, a soft shadowy spot, tucked away into an alcove and furnished with overstuffed purple couches. Below the floor, underneath the slot machines, the gamblers, and the gaudy carpet, vampire minds glowed like angry smears of foul magic.

  Ugh.

  They glowed in my mind, evenly spaced, each undead confined to its own stall in the stables under the building, twenty per column. One, two, three…ten… At least six hundred. Probably more, the dots were beginning to blend in the distance. Kate would’ve known precisely how many. She could also pilot them all at once. I used vampire blood, molded it, and worked with it, but piloting was forever beyond me, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I would not share my mind with one of those things.

  A male journeyman in his late teens stopped by me. “The Director will see you now.”

  I followed him deeper into the bowels of the Casino.

  Director. That was something new. I supposed it went well with their new name, the Eastern Institute of Necromancy. Why Eastern? Was there a Western Institute?

  In the next few hours, I needed to get Namtur, somehow convince Nick to stand down, do something with Namtur to keep him occupied and out of trouble, and then go see Mark Rudolph. There were too many fires to put out, and if I didn’t do it fast enough, Moloch’s priests would set the kind of fire I couldn’t deal with.

  We reached the back wall and walked through a hallway past a velvet rope, into a wide room ending in a spectacular staircase. Ghastek came down the steps, a tall, gaunt figure in a black suit and charcoal dress shirt. He’d been balding as long as I could remember, but the receding hairline only accentuated his high forehead. His features were narrow, and he looked at the world with piercing dark eyes.

  Usually Ghastek wore a turtleneck or a Henley, sometimes a sweater. His clothes were simple, but expensive. He dressed like a busy CEO who had too much on his plate to worry about dressing up. Why the suit? It couldn’t be for me. I was an anonymous Order knight.

  His gaze fastened on me. “Ms. Ryder, I presume.”

  “Knight Ryder.”

  He smiled.

  “Did I say something funny?”

  “Not at all. You’re too young to get the reference and it would take too long to explain. What’s your relationship to Namtur?”

  Direct and to the point. No pleasantries. My disguise was holding. “I don’t have one. I was told to escort him to the chapter.”

  Ghastek studied me. I had made a reasonable effort to look as normal as possible and hid most of myself with my ragged cloak. People in cloaks were a common sight in the city, and he could see my face
well enough.

  “You’re not one of Feldman’s regulars.”

  “I’ve been recently assigned to the chapter. If you contact the Order, they will confirm my credentials.”

  Ghastek looked at me for another long moment and said under his breath, “Bring him.”

  Somewhere in the depths of the Casino a vampire had just spoken in Ghastek’s voice.

  We waited. Ghastek stared at me. Most people would at least try to pretend to look elsewhere out of politeness. Ghastek openly scrutinized me.

  Two journeymen appeared at the top of the stairs. A short elderly man walked between them. He wore a dark brown tunic that was two sizes too big and hung around him like a sheet on a clothesline. Age had stolen his hair and cut wrinkles into his walnut-brown skin, but his eyes, the color of clover honey, were alert and bright.

  He saw me. His eyes sparkled, and he straightened up and picked up speed, sandals flashing under the hem of the tunic. The journeymen struggled to keep up. Ghastek turned to look at him, taking his eyes off me for a second, and I put two fingers on my lips and touched the outer corner of my right eye in a single quick motion. You do not know me.

  A small smile flickered on Namtur’s lips and vanished. He was the one who’d taught me the language of thieves.

  Ghastek turned back to me. I presented him with a blank, almost bored expression. Just a knight preparing to escort a senior citizen. Nothing to see here.

  Namtur stopped about two feet away and gave Ghastek a withering look. “What is it now? Are you offering me this pretty child? What is an old man like me supposed to do with her?”

  Ghastek looked offended. “A knight has come to escort you to the Order. I didn’t realize Eahrratim and the Order had such close ties.”

  Using my grandmother’s full name wouldn’t score him any brownie points.

  Namtur stuck his chin in the air. “The things you don’t know or realize are an ocean, and your mind is a tiny boat upon its waves.”

  Ancient disses were the best.

  “Delightful,” Ghastek said dryly.