each of our wrists one after another, including his own. Fol owing his lead, we turned our arms so the blood could fal on the lace coverlet, watching the black cloth dampen as the droplets hit and soaked in.
Raoul said, “Queen Marie Alexandra Victoria of Romania. We beg an audience.” He waited. We al did while Aaron looked up, down, and around like he figured a gang of skeletons was going to jump out of a hidden doorway any second now. He whispered, “That’s it?
Ring-aroundthe-rosy, blood, and begging, and you think the ghost of a dead queen is just going to drop in on you like you’re her favorite cousins? I should’ve
—”
“Aaron.” One word from Vayl accompanied by a look that could freeze erupting volcanoes, and our tagalong shut the hel up. Just in time for the scent of violets to waft through the room.
“Do you…?” I raised my eyebrows at Vayl and Raoul. They nodded to show that they’d detected the odor too, stronger now, centering on the chaise under our noses. A rumble shook the room, or maybe it was the whole castle, because we could hear the distant shrieks of a terrified woman. A shiver ran across my shoulder blades and I turned toward the flower-painted door just in time to see two soldiers wearing uniforms I dated to World War I lead a majestic creature through the entryway as if it had been opened and the room prepared for them. She held her head high, as if the spiked platinum crown resting on her rich brown hair weighed nothing more than its gumbal machine knockoff. Her blue gown looked vivid against the gold wal s I could stil see glowing through it, providing a surreal backdrop to the light golden cape she wore over it. Two long ropes of pearls swayed back and forth across her breasts as she walked toward us, fol owed closely by the rest of her party, two ladies wearing pale pink-and-white lace scarves over their dark ringlets and two more cavalrymen in knee boots over tan trousers and hip-length tunics set off with gleaming buttons and shining swords.
I was impressed. And chil ed.
Because Queen Marie had chosen to stay in the Thin rather than move on. That meant she’d sacrificed her soul’s salvation in exchange for power, manipulation, greed, and the random cannibalization of her fel ow spirits. And she looked wel fed.
I curtsied just the way they’d taught us to in spy school and said, “Queen Marie, my name is Jasmine Parks. It’s a true honor to meet you.”
She raised her hand up to me, palm out, which seemed to be a signal to the guards. They glanced back at their ruler expectantly. She gored me with her pitiless blue eyes and said, “Kil her.” CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The woods beside Pelisor Castle seemed to fal as silent as the grave-searching half of our crew as they tried to figure out what the odds were of any one of them successful y overcoming a creature so ancient even vampires gave it a wide berth. While Cassandra, Bergman, and Cole debated the wisdom of fighting a battle that was real y Vayl’s, Astral and Jack stared at each other until Astral said, “Bad Moon Rising” in a low, even tone. Jack huffed. Cole told me later he suspected my malamute was in ful agreement.
Dave murmured a couple of lines from Creedence Clearwater Revival’s hit: “Don’t go ’round tonight./Wel it’s bound to take your life.” He looked around the circle at the others. “But we have to.
Vayl’s depending on us.” He shook his head. “No, I’m his brother. Or as close as he’s ever going to get. I’m the one who has to do this.”
Cassandra’s gasp had barely cleared her mouth before Bergman grabbed the knife out of her husband’s hand. Luckily my twin had lightning reflexes or Miles might’ve stabbed them both in the exchange. As it was Dave backed off fast, leaving our tech guru to stand in the middle of the circle holding Dave’s survival knife, looking down at its doubly lethal edges, one serrated, one sharp as a razor.
“Are you sure about this?” Cole asked him. “I think that blade is thicker around the middle than you are.”
Bergman dropped his arm. “You can’t do it. Even when you don’t have horns you’re a hel -raiser,” he said.
Cole’s nod admitted that his brush with demon-kind minimized his chances of winning a battle with a beast like the Rider. Bergman went on. “Dave has to find out where Vayl’s kid ended up, so he’s out. And Cassandra’s pregnant, so—”
A chorus of shocked denials and surprised gasps from his group along with distracted confusion from mine at his announcement. “Wel , crap, don’t any of you have even the tiniest shred of observational skil s? She keeps rubbing her stomach, which she’s never done before. She’s been kind of nauseous. And she married Dave without tel ing Jaz, when we al know she would’ve loved to have her and Evie there, and probably even that horrifying old colonel they grew up with. They had to do a quickie wedding so they could fake the kid into thinking he was legit. Which”—Bergman glared at the expectant parents—“if it has half a brain, you’re so not getting away with.” Cassandra put her hand to her mouth as Dave pul ed her close. “We didn’t want anyone to know until we were sure…” She took a shuddering breath. “I have lost babies early on before. I’m stil not out of danger.”
“What did the doctor say?” asked Bergman.
“That I’m fine.”
He waved his hand at her. “Then relax. As long as you don’t let this Rider jump you, I’m thinking you’l be changing real y disgusting-smel ing diapers in another six months. Which, as I said, leaves me to deal with…” He trailed off, biting his lip. “I can do this,” he whispered.
She held out her hand, realized the last thing he probably wanted right now was for a psychic to touch him, and pul ed it back. “I’l pray for you.”
“No offense,” he replied. “But how is your new relationship to the gnome-god going to help me?” She shrugged. Among her many talents, she’d recently rediscovered her original gift just in time to pul off a last-minute save during our mission to kick some fanatical gnome ass in Australia.
However, Bergman did have a point. As the oracle to Ufran, she probably didn’t have a whole lotta pul in the human arena. Stil , she said, “You’re very thin. Maybe he’l take a liking to you.”
“Great. I’m about to attempt the bravest thing I’ve ever done in my life, and you want to make me an honorary gnome.” He squared his shoulders and turned to Dave. “What do I do?” he asked.
Dave looked him hard in the eyes. “Fight. Look, Miles, Cassandra’s right in a way. You are thinner
