Page 113 of A Steeping of Blood
He whirled to Jin. “We’re sorry, Jin. We tried to keep her safe.”
“I suppose I can forgive you,” Jin said with an overly dramatic sigh, but then he looked back at Flick. “What happened?”
This time, his voice was a death sentence, spiking her blood with a promise to do horrible, horrible things to anyone who hurt her.
“I found coordinates in the ledger, and when I realized they led to a place close to the palace and the tribute, I thought I’d find out what her plans are, but her men found me first,” Flick said. “It’s a bunker, sprawling under the palace. I couldn’t explore it in its entirety, but—”
Flick stopped. How was she meant to describe the cage full of girls and boys? How was she to talk about the helplessness in their eyes, the knowledge that their monarch was worse than the vampires she blasphemed across the country?
“What is it?” Matteo asked.
“I found the people she’s been kidnapping off the streets.”
“In the bunker?” Jin asked.
Flick nodded grimly. “They’re caged in a room.”
“But why? If she was kidnapping them under the guise of vampires slaughtering innocents on the street, she wouldn’t need to worry about keeping them alive.”
Flick cradled her wrists in her lap. She hesitated to call the Ram heartless when she always had been. It was Flick who hadn’t been any wiser. Still, shewasworse now.
“She’s going to turn them,” Flick said. “They—I spoke to the kidnapped. She’s going to turn them on the day of the tribute.”
Jin took a sharp breath. “And?”
Everyone knew the story of how the Ram came into power. She appealed to the masses by creating the Wolf of White Roaring and taking the reins. She was careful with her chaos and greed. Now Flick wasn’t so certain she would be.
“I don’t know,” Flick said. “Unleash them onto the streets while the rich and powerful are safe in the palace, perhaps?”
“Not if we get to them first,” Matteo said quietly. “We’re not letting the Ram replicate the massacre from twenty years ago.”
Sidharth brought in a tray holding several flutes filled with crimson and a cup of tea for Flick. Matteo took one of the flutes and offered it to Jin. Flick wondered if he’d taken her gift on the ship, if he knew why she’d given it to him: to tell him that she accepted him no matter what. She didn’t care that his heart no longer beat, or that he couldn’t walk out into the sunlight.
But at the same time, shedid. He had lost so much of what he enjoyed. He had died, even if he had returned seconds after. That was the core of it, wasn’t it? Being a vampire meant mourning one’s own death forever and ever.
Flick took the flute from Matteo, doing her utmost not to let the smell of the blood twist her features, and extended it to Jin herself.
“Another gift? Felicity, you spoil me,” he said, soft and despondent, though a smile wavered on his lips.
He took a dainty sip at first, his eyes brazenly lifting to hers. Heat rose to her cheeks. She wondered what it would be like to have her own blood staining his lips. To have his fangs at her throat, his tongue smoothing the goosebumps rising even now with the thought alone. He took another sip, then another, downing the rest in one quick swig. He swayed, relief and satisfaction wrapped in a deep-throated sigh.
“Much better,” he said in a low tone that made her shiver.
“The carriage is ready whenever you are,” Sidharth said. “My driver will take you to the Horned Guard minister, if you have his address.”
“I do,” Matteo said, and rose to his feet. “How are the vampires?”
“I’m glad we had the foresight to clear out a wing for them,” Sidharth said. “There’s a good number, eh? And I had almost forgotten how many of them were members. I can’t say everyone’s happy to be here, but they understand the situation. None of us ever saw the Athereum becoming well-nigh a prison, but it’s only temporary.”
Flick hoped so, for all their sakes.
“They’re acclimating well thus far. We’ve given them each coconut water, as instructed, and will continue to monitor and aid as necessary. They have rooms, free rein of their wing. They’ll get through. Oh, and”—Sidharth handed something to Jin—“we found these on your father’s person. I thought you should have them.”
It was a book, bound in leather the same deep shade of green Jin favored in his suits. It was bursting with notes and slips of paper shoved inside, wrapped tight with cords to hold everything together. Flick didn’t know if they were notes from his work or a diary, but she was glad Jin had another piece of his father to hold on to.
“I am sorry, Jin,” Sidharth murmured.
Jin took it, jaw clenched as if he, too, was just barely holding himself together. Then he looked at the others. “Right. Let’s go meet the Council.”
