Page 31 of The Bloody Ruin Asylum & Taproom (Sam Quinn #7)

Twenty-Five

The Shit Is Hitting the Fan

Clive addressed Sebastian before looking at all the other vamps assembled, “And this is what comes of being weak. The Guild has now lost four more Counselors. For what purpose? My mate and I do nothing to threaten my kind. I’ve made San Francisco my home for two centuries, but it’s only been the last year that we seem to be fighting wave after wave of aggression. Why is that? What’s changed?”

Expression hard, Clive scanned the room. “And don’t you dare say my wife. She has nothing to do with Garyn’s obsession—”

“She does, though,” Cadmael said. “Your mate is not just a werewolf. We all witnessed that today. Before we saw her in action, we felt it. Do you think there’s any here—besides the humans—who didn’t feel her approaching the Guild when you first arrived?

Who doesn’t feel the power, the magic radiating from her? ”

He moved forward, onto the mat, and gestured to me. “I’ve been tracking her since she was born.”

Clive looked between Cadmael and me. “What are you talking about? Why would you have any knowledge of Sam?”

Cadmael held up a finger. “The origin line of werewolves. The only female born wolf.” He held up a second finger.

“The daughter of the strongest wicche line in existence. Daughter of a wicche who would have ruled the Corey Council had her sorcerer sister not killed her.” He held up a third finger.

“A woman who the queen of the fae counts as one of her own.”

How the fuck does he know that? I demanded of Clive.

It seems we have a spy very close to us.

“And by giving this little speech,” Vlad said, walking toward us. “You’ve ensured that everyone in this room will share that information around the globe. That these two will never have a moment of rest from the never-ending attempts to kill them. My question is why she bothers you so much?”

Vlad glanced at me and then back at Cadmael. “Sam is no threat. A two-minute conversation would tell you that. She’s a child.”

“Hey.” I may not be six hundred years old, but twenty-five was hardly a child.

Ignoring me, Vlad went on. “You, a being thousands of years old, have been tracking her since birth? Garyn might have been obsessed with Clive, but you’re the one obsessed with Sam. Why?”

“I don’t answer to you,” Cadmael thundered, sending everyone but Vlad, Clive, and me to their knees.

“No,” Clive said. He was expressionless but I felt the deep betrayal he was experiencing. “But you can answer me. We’ve been friends for hundreds of years. I trusted you, as I trust very few. Why would you do this?”

Cadmael stood silent and then finally said, “This doesn’t concern you.”

“I beg to differ.” Clive’s tone was neutral, but his eyes were vamp black.

“Sam,” Vlad said, holding up my jacket, “may I borrow this?”

I nodded, pretty sure he didn’t mean the jacket.

“Clive?” he said.

“Yes,” Clive responded to whatever Vlad had asked.

Mayhem. Not a moment later, dust piles dropped all around the mat. Sebastian tried to run for the door, but my axe flew through the air and pinned his head to the wall. Beside him, Ava’s headless body dropped and then Chaaya’s.

No more than a minute later, less, blood spattered the walls and pooled on the floor. Dust hung heavy in the air. They’d killed everyone. To protect me, Vlad and Clive had killed everyone who’d heard what Cadmael had said about me.

Stomach turning, I had trouble breathing. They were all dead because of me.

Cadmael grabbed his head, his eyes screwed shut as he grunted in pain.

“Get out of my head!” he shouted and then snatched my arm with a force this side of breaking bone and hauled me close to him.

“You and I are going to have a talk.” He dragged me from the room while Clive and Vlad stood blood-covered and motionless.

I’d only traveled to the second floor in a dream. I didn’t even know how to get there, but Cadmael did. He hauled me down the hall, through a hidden door, and up stairs. It was pitch-black. The windows had been boarded up long ago.

I tripped on broken tile and smashed my knee against the floor, but Cadmael kept a tight grip on me and kept moving. When we took a turn, I felt it again: the sick, sticky evil from that room at the end of the hall.

I dug in my heels, trying to rip out of his grip, slashing his arm with my free hand.

He backhanded me. My head remained on my neck, barely, but my cheek exploded.

Dark spots obscured my vision. He tugged my free hand, pulling my wrists together and tightening his fist around them both.

Short of chewing off my own arm, there was nothing I could do.

He pushed open the tall wooden double doors, throwing me in.

I hit the side of a settee, jarring my broken rib, and a fire roared to life in the stone fireplace.

The room looked almost exactly as I’d seen it in my dream.

Dustier, perhaps, but the furniture, the artwork, even the candles on the mantle were all the same.

Cadmael shoved me onto the settee and then took the chair by the fire. “Why are you here?”

I didn’t understand the question. “You brought me here.”

“No. Here. In this house. How did you get in?” Cadmael had taken an instant dislike to me when I’d met him almost a year ago, or I supposed his hatred had been growing my whole life.

I couldn’t think about that right now, though.

The point was I was familiar with his usual look of disdain. This wasn’t that.

He radiated anger. His normally stoic expression had changed to barely contained rage and his eyes were all wrong.

“Clive brought me,” I said.

He blew out a breath and sat back in the chair. “And who is that? Another fisherman? One of the servants? Did he let you in to visit Cordelia or one of her sisters?”

Okay, I was pretty sure Cadmael wasn’t here anymore. Given where we were, I thought Scary-Angry Man from the dream might have had his hooks in Cadmael, now that Sebastian was no more.

“I don’t know who Cordelia is,” I said.

He scoffed. “Lies. Always lies. Thieves who come sniffing around what’s mine.” Pushing up from the chair, he paced in a strange arc in front of the fire. “I’ve been cursed with disobedient girls, but none so great as Cordelia.”

He picked up a mermaid figurine, looked like he was going to throw it, and then reluctantly put it back. “We’ll just see. Caine!” he shouted.

The door opened and a man in a black tunic and hose appeared, bowing to Angry-Man-Wearing-a-Cadmael-Suit. “Yes, sire.”

“Bring me Cordelia.”

The man looked uncomfortable before tipping his head deferentially. “Sire, she is still being punished.”

The angry man smiled sharply at me, his hands fisted at his sides. “And that is what happens to all who go against me.” Turning back to the man at the door, he said, “Dry her off and bring her up.”

The servant left and I said, “Sir, can you tell me your name.” All these silly hyphenates were getting to be a bit much.

Pausing, he glanced back, his brows furrowed. “What an odd question. You sneak into the prince’s palace to steal his property and you ask who I am.”

With a shake of his head, he walked to the window, brushed aside the drapery, and gazed out.

“You’re all vermin, sneaking in under doors, hiding in the grain, sniffing around my possessions.

Worthless and thoughtless as they are, the girls are mine.

Even when they sneak out to dance with common trash like you. ”

It felt more like he was talking to himself, voicing an oft-repeated complaint.

Was I me in this whole scenario? It didn’t seem like it. Who was I filling in for, though? He’d said another fisherman. Did that mean I was a fisherman or that another fisherman had tried to see his daughter earlier? Was I a dude? What did the prince see when he looked at me?

It didn’t take long until the young woman I’d seen in the dream was pushed through the door, the servant closing it quietly but firmly behind her.

Her face was swollen and bruised. The gown she wore covered her from the neck down, but she was holding herself like she was hurting. “My lord, you sent for me?”

“I did,” he said. His eyes had a glint that was more than a little crazy. He pointed at me and said, “Who is this?”

Cordelia glanced at me and then back at her father. There was something communicated in the brief look, but I didn’t understand it, not knowing her or the situation currently being played out.

“I know not,” she said.

He grabbed her arm hard, causing her to gasp, her eyes to well up. Given the state of her face, her whole body had probably been battered. The prince dragged her to me. “Been whoring yourself out to so many you don’t even remember, is that it?”

“No, my lord. I don’t know this man. I haven’t left the palace. You have guards watching me. You know I haven’t gone anywhere.” She blinked back tears, never shedding a single one.

“One of your sisters then,” he growled, shoving her aside.

When the prince turned his back to us, walking to the fire again, he stepped over something directly in front of the fire. Whatever it was must have been why he was pacing in an arc around it.

Cordelia turned and sent me a frantic look before giving me her back and saying, “Surely not. My sisters would never go against your wishes.” Her gown was soaking wet, her hair dripping on the thick carpet.

Caine, the servant, had said that she needed to be dried off before being brought to him. How in the world was she being punished?

He scoffed. “Your sisters? They glide around the palace, beauty fading, playacting devotion, but their lies are a poison in my ear.”

He spat into the fire. “Lies and manipulation.” He turned to Cordelia. “And you’re just like them. They’re whores too.”

I flinched at the word, at the unhinged rage behind it, and I wondered if he punished her sisters as well. This guy was a psychopath, and a strong one. He’d taken control of Cadmael, one of the oldest and most powerful vampires in the world. And I had no idea how to escape.

When the prince spun away again, returning to the window, Cordelia turned to me and mouthed megy! Only it wasn’t Cordelia’s face. It was Léna’s.

She ran to him and threw herself at his feet, holding on to his legs while she cried, begging for his forgiveness.

I rose silently and moved to the door. I didn’t want to do anything to attract attention. The problem was that even though the prince was engaged with Cordelia, Cadmael had a vampire’s acute hearing and awareness of nearby warm, blood-filled bodies.

Reaching for the doorknob, I heard a yelp. Prince Cadmael had picked up Cordelia-Léna and thrown her at the fireplace before barreling across the room at me. Cordelia-Léna’s gown caught fire and she howled in pain, but I was already tearing open the door and flying down the hall.

Vampires were silent, but I knew he was right behind me. I raced through the pitch-black, digging my mental claws into his blip in my head, trying to slow him down or throw him off. I knew I wasn’t strong enough to kill him, but I tried.

I couldn’t see, but I felt the air change. I wasn’t in the hall. Sliding, I turned to the left and ran for stairs I’d never find. Screaming, Clive! in my head, I hoped for a rescue.

Instead, a large hand palmed the back of my skull and spiked it into the tile floor.