Page 54 of A Steeping of Blood (Blood and Tea #2)

ARTHIE

The docks were empty one moment, then flooded with dark figures the next, streaming from the square beyond. In the center, like the eye of a storm, was the Ram, cloaked in black and masked in silver. Even from her distance, Arthie could feel the monarch’s eyes on her.

She stepped onto the slatted wood of the dock and lifted her chin. She was not the same scared little girl setting foot on Ettenia for the first time.

And she was not alone.

Behind her, Matteo exposed his fangs with a growl.

Flick was waiting, brass knuckles on her fingers, her expression frantic yet determined.

Jin rushed forward and flung his arms around her, burying his face into the crook of her neck.

Even Matteo looked shocked by his boldness.

He pulled away, eyes dropping to her lips before he settled for brushing a curl from her brow.

“You’re not supposed to be here, love,” he said, “but we’ll get to that later.”

He paused to glance back at his parents, and then at Arthie. She knew what he was asking.

“I’ve got your parents,” she promised.

“They’re yours too, remember,” he said, and he turned to the vampires crowding behind them and pumped his hand into the air, umbrella in his fist. “The floor’s ours!”

The docks rumbled as the vampires thundered after him with shouts and growls, fangs sharp, claws long, coconuts held tight. Their pain and zeal was a veritable, tangible thing in the air. Arthie felt it in her veins. The Ram had to feel it too.

She had to know the vampires wanted her head. Would she flee?

Within moments, vampires and black-clad forces clashed on the cobblestones just beyond the docks.

Shots rang out, steel clashed, for the vampires had grabbed what they could within the ship to use as weapons and shields.

There were more wooden stakes than Arthie had ever seen in one place, fisted in the hands of the Ram’s army.

Humans and vampires alike ducked for cover where they could, behind stacks of crates and delivery wagons, others stormed to the tops of them before launching into the throng of the battle.

Even some of Vane’s crew joined the chaos.

A gust of wind rolled through the port and waves rammed against the side of the ship, eager to join them.

Arthie ushered Jin’s parents to stay close. They ambled, both of them green from the voyage.

“Jin,” Sora whispered at the sight of him and Matteo at the front of the battle, tumbling toward their enemies like steam from a fresh pot of tea.

“He’ll be fine; now stay close,” Arthie told them. She drew Calibore from her holster, transforming it into a knife as she scanned the battleground.

The Ram was nowhere to be seen.

“Come with me!” Flick shouted over the din. She looked torn between minding her manners by introducing herself to Jin’s parents and wanting to run. At the wharf, she guided them up a short flight of steps to the cover created by the short partition fishermen used to sell their wares.

Flick spoke as they moved. “I’ve been hiding out here, but you were right about the tribute. She’s built an entire bunker under the palace.”

Arthie pulled Flick down beside her when footsteps pounded behind them.

One of the Ram’s men rounded the partition.

Before she could react, he slashed a knife toward Sora, catching her arm.

She cried out, but Shaw pulled her out of the way as Arthie knocked the knife to the rot-ridden stones and kicked him to the docks below.

Blood was gushing down Sora’s arm. Arthie smelled it before she saw it, relieved when it wasn’t hunger that lurched through her, but concern.

“I’ll be fine,” Sora hissed. Beyond the wall, the battle continued, louder than the crashing waves, louder than Arthie’s thoughts.

They crept along the cover of the partition, nearing the large, open square.

It would be a harrowing escape, but once they reached the cluster of White Roaring’s slums, Arthie and the Siwangs could easily lose any assailants in the maze of alleyways.

Because unlike Ceylan, Arthie knew this city like the back of her hand.

“How do you know there’s a bunker?” Arthie asked, on Flick’s tail.

“I was trapped in it,” Flick said. “She somehow knew you were a vampire too. I thought very few did.”

Outside of Penn and the crew, no one did. No, that wasn’t right. Someone else did too.

Arthie moved past Flick and peered over the partition.

The square was a bedlam of vampires and black-clad men, the Ram’s carriages far beyond like a dark dam.

Just up ahead, Matteo tore a man apart, crimson staining his shirt.

Jin was beside him, fighting two men at once, oblivious to the one behind him.

“Jin!” his mother shouted at the same time that Flick screamed his name and raced into the fray, masterfully evading the Ram’s men.

Arthie couldn’t protect them both. She clamped a hand over Sora’s mouth and pulled back in time to see Flick pull a wickedly long knife from a makeshift sheath at her side.

“We need to keep moving,” Arthie shouted, searching once more for the Ram. Not a glint of that silver mask was to be found. Arthie pointed to a cobbled wall halfway through the open square. “See that ledge? On my count, run for it. Stay on my left. Hide.”

She didn’t know if she could ever call the Siwangs her parents, but she meant to protect them as if they were. Only because I need them for a job.

“Now!” Arthie shouted, and the three of them rushed into the open. They were spotted immediately. Men broke away from the vampires, heading for seemingly easier marks. In her hand, Arthie transformed Calibore back into a pistol and swung a wide arc, driving the men back.

Two of them launched themselves at her. She fired, striking one in the arm. The third rushed forward with a knife, only to go flying when Shaw swung a rotting board of wood and caught him straight on. The man hit his head on the cobblestones and didn’t rise again.

“What? I need to keep my daughter safe,” he said at her look.

Arthie couldn’t make sense of the emotions that rose at his words. She fired at the last of the men and skidded beside the cover of the ledge, Shaw and Sora on her heels. Sora leaned against the stone with a relieved sigh, clutching her arm beside Shaw.

Sidharth’s carriages still hadn’t arrived, but the slums were just paces away. If Arthie could sneak the Siwangs past the guards that were bound to be waiting up ahead, they would be infinitely safer. But the Ram was still out there somewhere, and Arthie didn’t like not knowing where.

“Looking for me?”

Arthie whirled.

The Ram stood before her, gunmetal mask glinting in the wan light. She turned her bright eyes from Arthie to the Siwangs leaning against the stone ledge. It might have been just the four of them in the world in that moment, isolated from the others and hidden from view.

“Did you think bringing them back would hurt me?” the Ram asked her. “They belong to me. Everything in this empire belongs to me, and soon, that will include the rest of the world.”

Arthie lifted Calibore and squeezed off a shot.

Quicker than Arthie anticipated, the Ram evaded, swinging a shield that was as small as a handheld mirror.

The bullet bounced off its surface and shot straight back at her.

Arthie rolled out of the way, heart in her throat, and that was her fatal mistake.

The Ram didn’t look at her again. She didn’t need to. She had what she needed:

The Siwangs. Unprotected.

Shaw leaped in front of Sora, but the Ram didn’t care who died first. She fired.

Twice. Two bullets. One for each of Jin’s parents.

One for each of Jin’s long-lost parents, one for each of Arthie’s new parents.

They rang in Arthie’s ears as if they’d landed in her own body, and by the time she could fire back, the Ram was gone and Arthie was surrounded by a throng of her men, the last of the Ram’s words echoing dully.

I’ll see you at the tribute.