Page 77 of A Steeping of Blood (Blood and Tea #2)

ARTHIE

Arthie had always thought the monarchs of Ettenia held too much power, for she had only ever seen the Ram’s rule, but the Council was not pleased by her antics.

“Who are these people?” asked one of the Council members, seeing the encroaching line of black. It was a testament to how little they knew of what happened on the streets.

“Mercenaries,” another said. “After we limited her manpower.”

“First you press for the colonies, now we find out you’re running a monopoly?” a third thundered. Of course that was more concerning than colonization.

The Council was confused, but one thing was clear: The Ram had gone to great lengths to get her way. She had lied to the Council, she had lied to her people, but it appeared she had grown tired of working around both.

She wanted to rule supreme. To stand as Ettenia’s dictator.

How better than by removing the ones who stood in the way of that? And she was going to use the Ripper vampires to do it.

Arthie raced off the stage and into the panicked crowd, finding the others. Matteo, Jin, Flick and Laith lingered with the crowd, wide-eyed and confused. “She was never going to use the half vampires. She’s using Rippers.”

“Rippers?” Jin asked. “ Here? ”

Arthie pushed past them in the direction of the interior bunker entrance. “Get to the bunker. They’re underground.”

“For what? We can’t fight them, Arthie,” Matteo said.

“We’ll have to think of a way—now, everyone, move!”

Shaw had a fail-safe. It had died with him.

Arthie didn’t have Calibore to slow them down.

Around them, the Ram’s forces were pressing closer, tangible black shadows creeping to the gaudy, eye-catching gowns and sleek attire of the rich.

The Athereum vampires were too, waiting for their enemies to make the first move.

Arthie wove her way through the guests, ignoring any who tried to stop her. She didn’t have time to answer their frantic questions, not if she wanted to keep them alive. She stumbled through the rabble of the rich and reconvened with the others just outside the din.

“There might be a chance the Rippers are still in their cylinders. Can we stop them from opening?” Matteo asked.

“The tunnel,” Jin exclaimed. “If we can collapse it while the Rippers are trying to escape, we can bury them. They might not die, but it will at least buy us time to get everyone out of the palace.”

“Collapse it, how?” Matteo asked.

“Dynamite,” Flick and Laith said at the same time. Laith gestured for her to continue. “There’s dynamite in one of the bunker’s storerooms.”

Jin was nodding. “If we can line the tunnel and set them off, it’ll work.”

It was reckless, it was destructive, but Jin was right. It would work.

They dashed down the hall. The lights dimmed, the extravagance fading as they reached the back of the palace. Black-clad figures were everywhere. Surprisingly, not a single Horned Guard was present.

“A kitchen!” Jin said as they ran, detouring inside and returning with knives and a heavy iron pan.

“A pan?” Laith asked.

“It’s for me, assassin,” Jin said, handing them each a knife.

Arthie gripped hers tight, wishing, once again, she had Calibore by her side.

“You don’t need it,” Matteo said softly. He was watching her. How, in the midst of this mayhem, did he know what she needed to hear?

“You don’t need it,” he repeated. “You are our greatest weapon, Arthie. Look at what you’ve done.”

What she’d done was misjudge the Ram. She’d underestimated, yet again, how far the Ram would go. Arthie shook her head. “This is a mess; it’s not—”

“Artists know to trust the process, darling. For twenty years, she worked her infamy in the shadows. This is the first time someone’s forced her to show her hand.” He extended his arm toward her. “Now give me yours, and let’s stop the Rippers and give her the end she deserves.”

Arthie took it. But what was the end she deserved?

He closed his fingers around hers, and she realized she’d asked the question aloud.

“The end you wanted to give her. Save those high society snobs you loathe, and they’ll do what we hoped the press would in the Athereum.

They’ll spread the word. Her image will be thoroughly ruined.

She can’t wear that mask again, nor could the Council allow her to. ”

No, they could not. Arthie gripped the knife Jin had given her and ran, her shoes skidding on the polished floor, her hair coming undone. Until she came face-to-face with a man carrying a stake.

She had a sudden, sinking feeling when Matteo shifted, knowing with utter certainty that he would step in front of a thousand stakes to keep her safe so that she would see the Ram’s destruction through.

It froze her in place, even when Matteo stepped in front of her, even when the man tightened his grip around the stake, his aim clear and true.

A loud clang rang out.

The man wobbled and fell. Jin was standing behind him, pan raised in his hands as if it were a bat. Arthie snatched up the fallen stake, shaking away whatever had locked her limbs in place and caused her to freeze.

“You’re welcome,” Jin said, Laith behind him. “The bunker entrance is just up ahead. Where’s Flick?”

“She must have stayed with the guests,” Arthie said.

She would have too, if that was her mother who was about to be ruined in front of high society.

Jin pulled open the heavy door. A gaping abyss lit by scant sconces stared back, and Jin disappeared inside without a second’s pause.

Arthie, Matteo, and Laith followed. The tunnel was deceptively long, and when they emerged on the other side, they were met with men shouting, calling orders back and forth, footsteps pounding.

Arthie heard weapons being tossed from hand to hand.

“This way,” Laith said, steering them to the shadows until they reached the storeroom. It was stocked with everything the Ram could need in an emergency such as this, from preserved foods to even the green darts they’d seen on Ceylan. Laith grabbed several bundled sticks of dynamite.

Arthie snatched a lighter from the shelf, and the four of them stacked as much dynamite as they could hold and circled back, footsteps as light as could be.

“There they are!”

A score of the Ram’s men stood between them and the tunnel.

“We don’t have time for a fight. Cover me!” Jin shouted.

Laith and Matteo leaped into action. Arthie gripped her knife tight. They dropped two men, squeezing a gap for Jin to get through. He dropped to his knees to line the dynamite.

“I think we’re past the need for subtlety,” Matteo said, pulling out the revolver Arthie had given him. He fired, hitting one of the men square in the chest. Laith ran forward and slashed his knife through another’s neck.

Arthie grabbed a bundle of dynamite and dropped to the other side to help. Laith and Matteo continued fighting, slowly retreating with Jin and Arthie to the tunnel entrance.

Screams rang out from deep within the bunker, the wet spattering of blood chilling Arthie’s bones.

“What is that?” Laith whispered.

“Ripper vampires,” Matteo breathed.

Arthie looked up from the middle of the tunnel. More than a dozen vampires were barreling toward them, teeth bared in angry snarls, eyes void of life.

Jin dropped to the floor to light the wick, but the fire didn’t take. “It’s too cold!”

“They’re getting closer,” Arthie warned, snatching the lighter from him.

The flame took. The wick hissed. She hurried from one to the next, lighting them as Matteo and Laith stopped their fighting—letting the Ram’s men act as a barrier between them and the Rippers. She lit the last wick and clicked the lighter off.

“Done. Let’s go!” she shouted. They rushed to the mouth of the tunnel, but the Rippers had already barreled through the Ram’s men. They were moving fast. The wicks were burning far too slowly.

The Rippers would escape the tunnel before the explosion could bury them.

Arthie wanted to laugh. She wanted to scream.

Was it all for nothing? The journey to Ceylan, the fall of Spindrift, the death of the Siwangs and Penn and members of the press?

For a moment, she and the others could only stare.

What more could they do? The Rippers would tear through them, wreak havoc through the palace, and then what?

No one would be left to stand in the Ram’s way.

“Go,” Matteo said in their strangled silence. It was no more than an exhale. He cleared his throat and repeated himself. “Go! I’ll hold them off.”

Arthie wasn’t sure she heard him correctly.

“That—the dynamite will collapse the tunnel, Andoni,” Laith said.

Matteo nodded, avoiding eye contact. “I’m aware.”

“It will collapse on you too,” Jin said. “Unless the Rippers kill you first.”

Matteo nodded again. “That is the idea.”

The vampires were getting closer, shouting, snarling. Arthie didn’t hear them. She was in a glass case, where everything was muffled, even her emotions. She didn’t have Calibore to slow them down, nor the strength to fight. Jin’s pistol and pan would do little. Laith was human; he’d die in seconds.

“Please,” she whispered.

She could say nothing else. They were supposed to see this through together. It was supposed to be an eternity of him and her, dashing and deadly.

A new Spindrift. A new dawn. A new life.

“No,” Matteo said, hearing her every protest. His hands dropped to her shoulders as mayhem roared around them. He pressed a kiss to her brow, and the tenderness in his emerald eyes tore at her heart.

When had she begun to feel so much? He kissed her nose, then the side of her mouth, and Arthie tilted her chin to kiss him fully.

It didn’t flood her with heat. It didn’t fill her hope. It tasted of remorse and longing, sorrow, and farewells.

“We did have a good love story, didn’t we?” he whispered.

She was shaking her head, tears dripping down her chin to her sari. She wanted to shoot him again. To see him shake with laughter at her antics. To feel his smile curving against her skin.

“I had forgotten what it was like to live until you,” he said. “I forgot what it was like to have purpose.” He looked behind her. “It was a pleasure, Jin.” Then tilted his head to the side to look at Laith. “Can’t say the same.”

Laith dipped his chin. “Thank you, Andoni.”

“I’m not doing this for you.”

“I know.”

No, he was doing this for her. Hadn’t he told her as much? I would die for you, darling . She had simply never imagined a world in which he would have to, for Arthie always saved herself.

Matteo met her gaze one last time. His green eyes were bright, at peace.

Then he pushed her toward Jin and Laith and leaped into the fray.

Arthie ran for him, her sari shimmering cruelly out of the corner of her eye.

Jin caught her, held her, even as she heaved and thrashed against him.

The vampires roared as Matteo reached them.

He toppled two in one fell swoop, only for them to rise back up again.

He tore his claws down another’s chest with a snarl.

They were fighting back. They were hurting him.

Each gash across his skin was a bullet through her, each one numbing her to the bone.

But it was working.

He was slowing them down.

“Jin! Arthie!” Laith called behind him as the dynamite hissed and popped.

“No,” Arthie whispered, tears blurring her vision.

“I’m sorry, Arthie. I’m sorry,” Jin was saying, over and over again, his voice cracking when he saw her face.

He pulled her behind him, forcing her to run.

They reached the bunker door as the dynamite fell quiet, and Arthie turned back one last time to see the Ripper vampires overwhelming Matteo, climbing over him, she saw them rip through his chest, and she found a strange, sick sense of comfort that he wouldn’t live, that he wouldn’t suffer beneath that rubble for an eternity.

Then Jin was pulling her through the door and sealing Matteo inside as the explosion rocked the earth and the tunnel collapsed, her heart crumbling with it.