Yasmine Galenorn - Night's End

So much had gone on. We were all changing; we were all shifting. The world would never be the same again, and we’d all have to man up.

Rhia let out a soft sigh. “I can’t argue with your logic.”

“Do you really think I’d hand Kaylin over to the Blood Oracle if I didn’t think he could make it through?” I stared at my hands. But then I shook my head. “You don’t have to answer me. I am honest enough to admit that I might do it, if I thought it were the only way to save the day.”

“Oh, Cicely—we know you wouldn’t do that.” Chatter tried to cheer me up, but I shook away his support.

“Yes, I would. And don’t tell me you wouldn’t—any one of you. Too much rests on our shoulders. We don’t have the leeway to be merciful anymore, not if it means we endanger everyone around us.”

“You’re right.” Rhiannon stood. “I stand by you. Chatter, you are my consort. You will abide by our wishes?”

Chatter merely nodded.

Grieve looked torn, but then he shrugged, giving in. “Okay, then. How do we work this? If there’s a chance that Kaylin is a spy, we can’t forewarn him. Or the others.”

I frowned, thinking. Grieve was right. We couldn’t take any chances, especially after the speech I’d just given. I crossed to the window and stared out into the snowy afternoon. It was nearing dusk.

“We talk to them as if everything’s normal. When they ask what’s up, we tell them . . . We’ll tell them that we needed a break. That the adjustments to life in the Barrows is daunting, and we are taking a few days out, to regroup. I’ll call Regina and have her summon us to talk to them. At dusk, we’ll all go over to Lannan’s estate. I’ll talk to him and Regina in private, and if they agree, we can take Kaylin to the Blood Oracle right then, before he’d have a chance to get away. And then, while still there, he can check the others. We’ll need to get Ysandra over here on some pretext though.”

“That shouldn’t be hard; she wanted to talk to Luna about some sort of magic they’re cooking up.” Rhiannon grimaced. “I dread the aftermath of this, though. I know it’s necessary, but the fallout is going to be problematic, at best.”

“I know, Rhia. I know. I’ve prepared myself to lose friends. I hate the thought, but there’s nothing else we can do.”

“Your Majesty, if you don’t mind me interjecting a thought: Kaylin is still weak from the attack a month ago, but he should be able to handle himself.” Check had been listening in, but now he moved forward.

“Do you think he’s well enough to handle the Blood Oracle?”

“Is anybody ever well enough to handle him, Your Highness?”

As Check posed the question to me, I closed my eyes and once again found myself in the grips of the Blood Oracle as he sought to drain me dry, to feast on my blood.

He was like an insect—long and lean and gangly, with limbs like hollow husks, except they were strong. Oh, so strong, and oh, so dangerous.

Crawl scuttled, shifted without seeming to move. He was a vampire—a dangerously old and mad vampire. He had been sired by the Crimson Queen herself, and he lived in a prison because he had long ago forgotten how to listen to orders, how to keep from being a one-man scourge on those who still walked with blood pumping through their hearts.

Crawl, the Blood Oracle, the seer of the vampires, the father of vision who foretold the future and who remembered the past. He was mad as a hatter, mad as a hare. Lost in a world of his own, he spoke in riddles, doling out dribs and drabs of information in return for the sacrifice of life, the sweet force of the veins.

Locked in his prison, a world between the worlds, he waited for an opportunity to free himself. He’d been loosed on the town not that long ago by the renegade vampires Geoffrey and Leo, and he’d fed and fed, drinking deep and casting aside the bodies. But Crawl hungered for more; there was always the thirst, the burning need to feed, and so he had driven his way through the people of New Forest, as ruthless as a spider spinning her web for flies.

People were chattel—food and nourishment. Our lives, our hopes and dreams, our desires were moot in the face of the Blood Oracle. He fed off pain, licked it up like a delicious syrup on top of ice cream or cake. He reveled in it, without care, without worry, without any shred of guilt.

It had been so long since Crawl had been human—yummanii—that he’d lost any semblance to the people on whom he now fed. He was beyond the scope of most of the vampires, and even the Emissary and her brother feared him. Crawl could just as easily stake their hearts, cast them aside, and move on, as he could feast off their slaves.

And the Blood Oracle had, three times, had me in his grasp. He’d fed off of me—the last time nearly killing me. Lannan had stepped in, brought me back at a cost that I could never forget. As much as he disgusted me, the hedonistic golden boy had been responsible for saving me, and I owed him a great debt.

And now I was planning on turning my friend over to the monster. That’s what Crawl was: a monster, a creature, no longer anywhere near human. I knew he would ravage Kaylin’s mind.

But . . . but . . . a small voice whispered. Kaylin is demonic. He can handle this journey, and he will understand why you did it.

Kaylin’s soul was wedded to a creature as alien to the yummanii as was Crawl. When we had woken the night-veil up to consciousness, we had not only saved Kaylin’s life but opened the door for him to change. He would never be the same—could never be the same.

And Crawl? Crawl would strip him down and sift through his psyche, but Kaylin was resilient. And he would come through intact.

And if he’s the spy?

The question raced through my mind. I didn’t want to think about it, but I already knew the answer. I knew what would happen. If Crawl told us that Kaylin was our downfall, I would leave him there. Let the Blood Oracle bleed him out, tear him to pieces, rend his soul even as he ripped at his body. Because if any friend of mine had turned sides, had voluntarily aligned themselves with the Indigo Court, they had automatically forfeited all protection, and my love for them would shatter like crystal.

I looked up. The others were waiting.

“Let them in. They’ll know something is up, but we have to lie. I’ll step out and call Regina’s day-runner in a moment, then we’ll leave for Lannan’s estate shortly after. Dusk will fall by the time we get there. I think I can convince Regina and Lannan to play along with us.”

At that, Grieve gave me a dark look, but I merely stared back at him. I would do whatever I needed to, and he knew it. And I knew he supported me. Even if it meant handing myself over to Lannan again. Even if it meant sacrificing myself at the altar of the hedonistic vampire.

“Open the door,” I said. And Check did.

As we neared the estate where Lannan and Regina lived, I shifted uncomfortably. We’d stopped on the way to pick up Ysandra, the last member of our inner Circle. She gazed at me, silently, and I had the feeling she knew something was up, but she said nothing.

The others had been less than thrilled about the idea of visiting the vampire compound, but there wasn’t much they could do. They deferred to us now that we’d taken the thrones.

I’d called Regina to tell her that we were on our way and to ask her and Lannan to wait for us—that we had something important to ask them. By the time we arrived she’d be awake and get our message.

A few minutes later, we pulled into the compound. It was hard on Grieve and the other Fae, for they couldn’t ride in cars so had to run along beside the vehicles. My father had done his best to ride in my Pontiac one time, but it had jarred him greatly, and he’d hated every minute of it.