They passed through the lab level, all white, sterile. Low ceilings. Some of the doorways were open a crack—the researchers kept all hours here. Others were shut and darkened for the night.
“I’m sure he would’ve liked that.” Cari’s polite voice, which Mason knew was meant to keep everyone at a distance.
So he made a sound of disagreement. “I don’t know, Adam. The Houses usually tread very carefully where outsiders are concerned. Magekind, even now, keeps to its own.”
Adam looked back at Cari as he led them to an elevator. “That’s too bad. Maybe we can get beyond that with your visit.”
“An optimist for the Dark Age.” Mason laughed. But it wasn’t going to happen, not with Dolan’s allies at least. They drew strict lines.
Cari glanced his way. “I’m an optimist myself.”
Mason sighed heavily. She was going to cause trouble among her faction if she mixed with outsiders. Humans, angels—they were barely tolerated.
The elevator took them up to the main level, which was illuminated with ambient light coming from the back of the building, where Mason knew the kitchens were. Too bad about Segue’s cook, who’d been murdered by someone from Martin House not too long ago. Maybe that’s why Adam was trying so hard to make nice with Cari. Maybe Adam was looking for allies. Martin and Segue had bad blood between them.
The ground floor rooms here were open, restored to the hotel’s previous glory, though Shadow webbed the darkest corners. Magic was thick, but as there were no wardstones, there was no sense of movement, no prickly-neck feeling of being watched, as there was at Dolan House. Adam’s attention to period detail was lost at night, but a feeling of open-spaced timelessness still prevailed.
Indistinct voices murmured ahead, so it seemed that others had waited up to meet them, too. Or rather, waited to meet Cari. If he’d come alone, he would’ve been let in by whoever was awake and would’ve had to fend for himself from there.
Through a pantry, Adam pushed a swinging door that led to the kitchen. The heady scent of coffee smacked Mason in the gut, made his mouth water. Segue was very much like that—a cup of good coffee waiting in the middle of a long night.
Introductions first.
Talia, Adam’s wife, started forward when they entered. Pixie blond, her Shadow-black eyes looked tired, but her smile was fresh. She held out her hand to Cari. “I’m so pleased—”
But Khan was suddenly there, blocking his daughter with an outstretched arm and pushing her back. His severe face was drawn into acute wariness as he examined Cari. His height made him impressive; the blackness of his slick, long hair and the shape of his eyes said he had once been fae.
Talia was cut-off, midsentence.
Mason too had halted, mid-smile, caught by surprise. Well, this was the person that Cari had wanted most to meet.
Khan welcomed Cari, saying, “Your father was a weak, sentimental fool.”
The gathering in the kitchen strangled into silence.
“Whoa.” Mason put a shoulder in front of her and held up a hand to keep Khan back. As if the mage who’d once been the Grim Reaper could possibly be stopped by flesh and bone.
“I don’t under—” Cari’s smile flickered on her face like a lightbulb about to burn out.
Mason’s smile had been snuffed already.
Khan didn’t move forward, but was still undeterred. “There’s a very old saying among the magicked of the world: Never suffer a Dolan female to live.”
Mason didn’t dare break his concentration from Khan to find out who else had gathered in the kitchen to meet Cari. Adrenaline, however, had done the coffee’s job. He was alert now, blood pumping fast and free. What had crawled up Khan’s ass?
“Your father should have left you in the wild as a babe, exposed for the beasts of the world to prey upon.”
“Mother of God, Khan!” Adam stepped back to protect Cari as well. “What’s your problem?”
Khan lifted his chin to indicate Cari. “The Dark Age begins with her.”
“You just met her,” Adam said to Khan.
“I’ve known her for ages.”
“I’ve known her since she was a teenager,” Mason said. “She’s a nice girl.” Er, woman. But it was too late to correct.
Khan craned his neck down to look into Cari’s eyes. “Mad Mab was never a nice girl.”
Adam leaned his head toward Mason to mumble, “Reincarnation?”
Mason shrugged. He didn’t know, but a hot and grim confirmation of his worst fears burned in his chest. He’d been worried something was wrong with Cari, and now he knew he was right. Mad Mab? Cari used to be the epitome of control and poise . . . until lately. Khan’s reaction reaffirmed everything Mason feared. Cari’s power was dangerous.
“Dolan Girl,” Khan said, “would you lay down your life to save humankind?”
Damn, but she was making no friends today.
“I serve my House—” Her voice quavered. Few, okay, none, were prepared to meet Khan in person the first time. And it went beyond his physical stature and unusual looks. His power was life and death, and every living thing in his presence knew it.
Mason had had enough of this. Khan would step the hell back. The Dolan Girl had had a rough week. Besides, Cari had already given her life . . . to her House. It was her duty, her honor, to do right by her people. The future of Dolan rested on her leadership and her womb. It was House 101. Khan had best sign up for the course.
“Retreat, Maeve,” Khan said into Cari’s face. “Or I swear I will bend my power to smothering the Dolan line.”
Mason put a hand on Khan’s chest to move him back. The badass mage didn’t budge a millimeter. “Enough. You need to explain yourself.”
Khan transferred his attention to him, eyes lit with predatory humor. The stray . . . no, a human . . . tangling with Death?
So squash me then, Mason thought. But lay off.
“You cannot think to shelter her here,” Khan said to Adam. “The fae queen abides in her umbra, and one day this poor girl will give birth to her, and madness will reign on Earth.”
Mason hadn’t thought Cari’s condition was that bad.
“Cari Dolan”—Khan straightened, as if making a pronouncement to all of Segue—“you need to die. And I am more than happy to dispatch you.”
Cari had steeled herself, but she couldn’t stop a slight tremor on the inside. It would help if Maeve would shut up for a minute. Queen of the fae? Mad Mab?
Don’t listen to him. Insufferable man. He always envied me.
Mason was arguing, and Adam Thorne arguing on top of him. Talia had rounded on her father, her pale fairness clashing with the jet black of his long tresses. And another woman stepped up, with reddish hair, and actually had the nerve to grab the arm of Death and make him turn to face her.
Cari’s heart beat against her ribs. So much yelling, and her life seemed held in the balance.
Show them. Show them our power.
“No,” Cari answered. She wouldn’t argue or beg for her life. It was hers and she was keeping it. These people, even the scary ones, could argue all they liked.
Someone nudged her elbow and she flinched. A very strange man held out a coffee cup. He had the look of Kaye Brand’s angel—perfection, though he was olive-skinned with dark blond hair—but Cari was certain that Shadow ran in his veins. The very darkest of Shadow.
Bah, and they have an angel. Death treating with Order? And he calls me mad?
The dark angel spoke: “They may be at this a while, so relax and take a load off.” For some reason Cari could hear him over—or under—the clamor. “I’m Custo Santovari, and I have a fae trapped inside me, too. We should start a club for the possessed. I’ll order jackets.”