Richelle Mead - The Immortal Crown

The Red Velvet Cloak

“You’ve been with Lucian the whole time?”

Justin seemed startled by Mae’s voice as he trudged past the living room at three in the morning. He came to a halt and squinted at where she was curled up on the couch with a reader she hadn’t really been paying attention to, save to occasionally check the house’s exterior security settings. Her mind was too full of the latest developments, both domestic and abroad, to focus on books or movies.

“Yup,” said Justin. “Don’t worry, just us boys. No side trips.”

“I’m more worried about you staggering home drunk in the middle of the night when there are people out there who want you dead. You’re going to a lot of pains for everyone else but not taking much care with yourself. I thought this was going to be a quick trip.”

Justin rubbed his eyes before answering. “Me too. But Lucian kind of dropped a bombshell on me.” Mae was too self-controlled to ask, but he read the interest off her face. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Wouldn’t I?” she asked archly.

He reconsidered. “Yes, you probably would. I’ll tell you tomorrow. I need sleep now.”

“Did you at least get what you initially went there for?” she called, as he started to turn.

“I did actually. Young Master Sandberg is going to be serving our fine country as a senatorial intern. We’ll see how long he enjoys his ‘reward.’”

Mae felt a smile spread over her face. “That’s what you went to

Lucian for?”

“It’s what the kid wanted.” Justin suddenly seemed uncomfortable at having been caught doing a good deed. “What’s wrong with that? He defended my home.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” she said, trying to look serious. “I just think it’s sweet you went out of your way for him, especially when you could’ve just called Lucian.”

“Did you just say—” He shook his head and stifled a yawn. “Never mind. I pay my debts, that’s all. See you in the morning.”

Mae watched him go, biting back any further remarks she might make about him disregarding his own safety. He deserved chastisement, of course. He had no business being out there, alone and intoxicated, especially after what they’d seen in Nassau. An image of a bloodied Mama Orane flared in Mae’s mind, reminding her of the severity of the forces they were dealing with. Justin had been insistent, however, that his family get Mae’s protection tonight, not him. His safety was also apparently secondary to him repaying an imagined debt to a boy he barely knew.

Mae sighed and leaned back, frustrated—as she often was—at these surprising streaks of nobility in Justin that popped up in what was otherwise a sea of selfishness. Apparently not even a mob of rampaging, deadly insects capable of regeneration was enough to deter him when he decided he had to do the right thing. Remembering the beetles made her sit up again and reach for her boot, where the amber knife was safely sheathed once more. She took it out and studied it in the light of a small table lamp.

Even in the dimness, golden fire played in the dagger’s handle, providing an almost fanciful contrast to the efficient, no-nonsense blade. A blade that had been capable of killing supernatural creatures when nothing else could. I should get rid of it, she thought. She’d meant what she told Justin: she didn’t want anything to do with the powers surrounding them. Investigating them as part of her job might be inevitable, but personal involvement was not—and this knife was personal. It had been sent to her anonymously in the spring, and that alone should’ve been reason for mistrust. Her initial thought had been that it was an unwelcome gift from Callista Xie, a religious leader and former lover of Justin’s. When asked, Callista had insisted she had nothing to do with it, increasing the knife’s mystery.

Mae still wasn’t sure if Callista was lying—or why she would. Regardless, the knife was Mae’s now unless she did something about it. It wouldn’t be hard. There were plenty of other daggers she could afford of comparable quality, if not style. Gingerly, she reached out and touched the blade, admiring the precision and workmanship. The gleaming edge was lethally sharp, showing no wear from the beetle attacks or the time she had killed the servant of a death goddess intent on—

“Damn!”

Mae jerked her hand back as she felt a sting in her finger tip. She looked down in surprise and saw blood beading on her skin. It was only one drop, and she started to wipe it on her jeans—but then paused. In the poor lighting, the blood had looked almost black when she’d first cut herself, but suddenly, it began turning a brighter red. She blinked, certain her eyes were playing tricks on her. But no, there it was. A rich scarlet, like the pip on her uniform’s collar. That didn’t last, though, and moments later, the blood covering her hand brightened into crimson.

Covering her hand?

What had started as a bead was expanding rapidly. Mae stared in mingled fascination and horror as that swathe of red enveloped her hand and then her arm. From there it spread to the rest of her body, wrapping around her like a cloak. No, it was a cloak, made of a heavy velvet that felt oppressive in the sun. There was sun everywhere, golden and glorious as it shone down from a clear blue sky. Mae felt that warmth enter her body, felt it connect her to every green and growing thing on the planet, to all that was alive and thriving. She threw the smothering cloak off and saw that she was naked underneath. It felt right somehow, that there was nothing between her body and the world around her.

A fragrance so intense it made her dizzy filled her nostrils, and Mae reached up to discover a wreath of flowers on her head. They were apple blossoms, just like the perfume she normally wore. The air around them shimmered, and suddenly, they were small, white stephanotis flowers. Then they were peonies. Then roses. The wreath fell apart in her hands, and a sudden wind picked up, scattering the petals away like shooting stars. They brushed delicately against Mae’s skin as they went, before disappearing altogether.

Do not be deceived by the crown. It may look fragile, but there is power in it. There is power in love and beauty and desire. There is more power in creating life than taking it.

Mae looked around for the speaker but could find no source for the woman’s voice, only the sun above. Or was it truly the sun? As she squinted, trying to make out that brilliance, she couldn’t be sure if it was actually a woman’s face, too dazzling for mortal eyes to behold. A small laugh made Mae look down, to where the red velvet cloak rested at her feet. Something under it stirred, and she flinched as a small face suddenly peered up at her. It was a girl’s face, a familiar face: the face of Mae’s niece, sent away when she was born for not possessing a pure Nordic gene set.

Mae had spent years trying to find her, her closest lead being a servant of the Morrigan named Emil—a servant Mae had killed with the amber dagger. Emil had promised Mae a lead to the girl in Arcadia, as part of his attempts to get Mae to join their cult and fulfill the pact her mother had made at Mae’s conception. Mae had refused and thought she’d lost her chance at finding her niece forever. And yet, here, right in front of her was the girl, looking up with hazel eyes that showed glints of green in the sunlight. She grinned, but when Mae reached for her, the wind stirred again, picking up the red velvet. It was no longer a cloak but a flag, rippling in the air, blocking Mae from her niece. Angrily, she tried to catch hold of the waving fabric, but when she finally did and jerked it aside, the girl was gone.