I looked at my bloody hands for a second, then glanced at Javier. “It’s good she was worried about me. We are distant cousins. You can see the family love.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the journeyman said.
At least he didn’t “lady ma’am” me. Thank goodness for small favors.
I hurried to catch up with Rowena. We went down the staircase, through the labyrinth of twisted, branching hallways, and into a cavernous room. Rows and rows of vampire holding cells filled the floor, set in widening sections radiating from the round platform at the center of the room. The bloodsuckers, secured by thick chains, snapped at us as we walked by, their eyes glowing, their foul magic polluting my mind like dirty smears on a window.
Ahead Rowena stopped, holding Conlan. My son sniffed at the vampires and grimaced.
“Daa phhhf!” Conlan declared.
Yep, phhhf is right.
We followed Rowena up the staircase to a room raised above the floor. Two-thirds of it was tinted glass. It served as Ghastek’s office, and from there he could survey his entire vampire stable. His predecessor had sat on a golden throne in the cupola of the Casino, but Ghastek was a scientist at heart. He never strayed too far from his subjects.
My vampire escort fell away and lined up in a row at the bottom of the stairs, sitting on their haunches like mutant hairless cats. Javier invited me up the stairs with a sweep of his hand. I climbed after Rowena into Ghastek’s domain. He stood with his arms crossed, silhouetted against a window, a tall thin man in a black shirt, charcoal pants, and expensive dark shoes. All of the Masters of the Dead dressed as if they anticipated being ambushed with a surprise board meeting, but since he’d become my Legatus, Ghastek had been steadily moving away from suits and corporate-slick toward clean and comfortable clothes, more suitable to a wealthy academic researcher than a captain of industry. As I entered, a vamp scuttled out of the small kitchenette on the side and set a cup of coffee on the polished black granite of Ghastek’s desk.
My Legatus peered at me, his eyes sharp on a narrow face. “What happened?”
“Sahanu.”
Ghastek pivoted toward the journeyman. “Initiate Counter-Invasion Protocol One, Sierra Delta, Target Group Charlie.”
“Yes, sir. The medic team is closing on the office. Should I ask them to wait?”
“Yes,” I said.
“No,” Ghastek said. “Send them in immediately. Aside from them, I do not want to be disturbed.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That will be all, Javier.”
The journeyman made a shallow bow, or a deep nod, it was hard to tell, and left, closing the door gently behind him. Through the glass I saw him walk down the steps and park himself next to the vampires.
Ghastek faced me. “As I recall, we discussed this possibility thirteen months ago. We both agreed that it wasn’t a matter of if Roland would try to obtain your child but when.”
“The sahanu who attacked us didn’t want to obtain Conlan. She wanted to eat him.”
“What?” Rowena drew back. “His own grandson?”
“I’m sure that wasn’t part of the plan,” Ghastek said. “It makes no sense. Your son is too important to be wasted like that.”
“My father kidnapped a bunch of children, imprisoned them in a fortress, and brainwashed them into believing he is a god to mold them into fanatical assassins. Then he turned them loose in the world on a suicide mission without any supervision. You’re right, he couldn’t possibly anticipate anything going wrong with that plan. I need to call him.”
A woman hurried to the door, carrying a bag, two men behind her. Ghastek shook his head. The woman and the men went down the stairs and went to stand by Javier.
“We’ve been over this,” Ghastek said. “One doesn’t simply call your father. Especially not now and not from this place.”
“We’ve betrayed him,” Rowena said. “All of our contacts are cut off.”
“Do I look like an idiot?” I asked.
Ghastek raised his eyebrows.
“I know my father and I know you. He has spies among your people, and you figured out who they are ages ago, and now you’re sitting on them.”
Rowena smiled. Conlan wiggled out of her arms and padded across the floor to the vampire that sat motionless by Ghastek’s desk. My son and the bloodsucker stared at each other, their noses inches apart.
Ghastek grimaced. “I liked you better as a merc.”
“Well, too bad, because I spent two years knee-deep in Pack politics, and I know how you operate. Get me a phone number, Ghastek.”
Ghastek inhaled. “No.”
I spoke slowly, sinking menace into my words so there wouldn’t be any misunderstanding. “What do you mean, no?”
Ghastek leaned against his desk, braiding his long fingers into a single fist. “We are aware of three people who report to Roland. Of those three, one is a second-year journeyman and two are apprentices, both of whom are wavering in their devotion to your father since you personally singled them out with your goddess routine.”
The goddess routine involved me radiating magic during a tech wave. “You insisted on the goddess routine. You claimed it would boost morale.”
“It did. Do you really think that any of these three would have a direct line to your father? They don’t. They report to someone and that someone reports up to someone else and so it goes, up a very tall ladder that may reach your father or may terminate with the Legatus of the Golden Legion or any of half a dozen people in Roland’s inner circle. These contacts are best used for subterfuge and disinformation. I won’t let you throw them away so you can yell at your parent.”
“Be very careful with words like ‘let,’” I told him.
“If you wanted someone who always said yes, you should’ve picked someone else.”
“I’m reviewing the error of my ways,” I told him. “He gave an order that resulted in one of those freaks trying to eat my son. Conlan is probably traumatized for life because he watched me kill a woman in front of him.”
“Your kills are usually quick,” Rowena pointed out. “Maybe he didn’t notice.”
“He noticed.”
Conlan raised his hand, fingers outstretched, as if they had claws, and slapped the vampire upside the face.
The undead remained unmoved.
“Your son doesn’t look traumatized to me,” Ghastek observed.
“I’m sure this will surface as a repressed memory fifteen years from now.”
Conlan smacked the vampire again.
“Stop,” I told him.
“What a shame,” Ghastek murmured. “He isn’t even trying to pilot.”
Conlan raised his hand.
“Har.” No. The ancient word rolled off my tongue, suffused with magic. I was too keyed up.
Conlan dropped his hand, backed away from the vampire, and came toward me, his hands raised. “Up.”
I swung him onto my hip. My right arm screamed.
“Oh my God,” Rowena whispered. “He understood.”
Of course he understood. “Erra sings to him in Shinar every night. He speaks it better than English at this point.” I petted his hair. “I need to speak to my father, Ghastek. You’re my Legatus. Make it happen.”
Ghastek leaned over to the window and knocked on the glass. The woman ran up the stairs and opened the door.
“Just you, Eve,” Ghastek told her.
She shut the door behind her and crouched by me. “May I treat you, In-Shinar?”
Given that my arms burned like fire, it was probably a good idea. I turned to Rowena, and she took Conlan from me and smiled at him. “There is my little prince.”
Conlan petted Rowena’s fiery hair and made a cute noise.
I tried to take off my shirt. Pain shot all the way through my shoulder. Nope.