Page 38 of The Bloody Ruin Asylum & Taproom (Sam Quinn #7)

Cadmael looked down at his missing hand and fingers and then at the blood dripping off my claws. I hadn’t retracted them yet. I was pretty sure I was okay, but I didn’t trust him that far, so the claws stayed out.

“Why did you send them away?” he asked.

“Because,” I said, “I figured it out. Why you’ve been tracking me all my life, keeping tabs on me.”

His expression was carved out of stone. He gave nothing away.

Blowing out a breath, I stepped closer and lowered my voice. “I’m very sorry about your son’s death—”

“Murder,” he growled.

“Yes.” I nodded. “As someone who is a werewolf, I can tell you that that man chose your son to kill. Our instincts might be stronger, our drive to hunt more pressing, but never is the human side of my brain gone. He recognized your son and you and chose to kill you both. Why, I don’t know, but he was never a friend. ”

I gestured down the hall. “They don’t know what I know.

You wanted to die in that rainforest alongside your son.

You wanted to enter the afterlife together.

Instead, you woke to this eternal undeath, wishing you could end it.

Every day for—what—two, three thousand years you’ve been gaining strength and gifts, but all you’ve ever wanted was to be done so that you might see your son again.

“You’ve been tracking me because in me you see your executioner.

Finally. And you hate me because it’s so close now, you can almost taste it.

Your memories of him are all you think about, and you need me to do it already.

But I haven’t. I’ve become the one keeping you from your son, and for that I’m despised. ”

“Do you always talk this much?” he said, finally breaking eye contact.

“Let me say this.” I stepped closer. We were almost touching. “If it’s really what you want, I’ll do it. Know that. Keep it in your pocket. Okay?”

His expression had lost its rigidity, as though he couldn’t quite believe what I was offering.

“I’ve been on the other side. I spent a little time in Hell.

Long story. Not the point. Time is different over there.

Ten thousand years. A day. It’s all the same.

When you eventually pass, your son will be there and it’ll be just like when you used to take him hunting, when he shadowed you through the forest. The love you feel for him hasn’t lessened, has it? ”

He shook his head, his eyes glassy.

“It hasn’t changed for him either. When you do finally see him again, it’ll be just like it was on the morning he left for the hunt.

There’s a lot you could still do here, though.

A lot of good in the world, if you chose to.

Vampire society is kind of a mess right now.

Do you want to help Vlad and Clive fix it or do you want to go? ”

I patted his arm. “No judgment from me whichever you choose. If you decide to stay and work, it’d be cool if you stopped being a dick to me. If it’s time and you’re ready, I’ll tell them the prince had control of you and I had to stop you.”

He grunted. “I don’t like the idea of people believing a fae man overpowered me.”

I nodded solemnly. “I don’t blame you. Especially one that was such a sick asshole. It doesn’t reflect well on you, if what people remember about you is being a fae puppet.”

His eyes went vampy black. “I am no one’s puppet!”

I nodded again. “Got it.”

He was silent for a good long time, thinking. Finally, he said, “I don’t care for you.”

“I get that a lot,” I responded.

Glaring at me, he added, “I have your promise?”

“You do.” I let my claws retract. I was pretty sure their work was done for now.

“I don’t have time for this.” He turned on his heel and strode off toward reception. “I have things to discuss with Vlad and Clive.”

Good.

While they planned, I went back to the bedroom to get our bags. We still needed to get out of here before the pack blew us up. When I opened the door, I found our room empty. Even the chocolates and book I’d left on the coffee table were gone. Hmm.

Do you have our luggage? I asked Clive.

Yes. We need to go, love. Vlad and Cadmael are going to fly back with us so we can talk.

Coming, I told him, jogging down the hall.

The three men were waiting for me in the main hall. “Not that way,” Clive said. “There are explosives on the front door. We’re going back out the tunnels.”

“Cool.” I paused, seeing the queen had appeared beside the men, her eyes back to their more natural—for her—swirling kaleidoscope of gold, blue, green, pink, and purple. She looked petite beside the men, but exuded so much power, it was hard to stand in her presence.

She stepped forward and pressed her delicate hand to my cheek.

The pain from fighting Cadmael disappeared.

“I am surprisingly pleased with you,” she said.

“I hadn’t anticipated that.” She tilted her head, her long silver hair glistening in the low light.

“It was good that I saved your life when I did.”

“And thanks again for that,” I said. “Did you find the prince? Was he still alive?”

Her eyes swirled faster, the colors turning darker. “He was. He’s not anymore.” Shaking her head, she glanced around at the building. “A spell had been put on this palace by… someone.”

She meant the fae king, who was a complete bastard.

“I’ve been looking for the women he stole for a very, very long time. I never would have found Cordelia or him if you and my ring hadn’t been inside the spell. Algar tracked that,” she said, pointing to my finger, “and we were able to finally find them.”

“What happened?” I asked, desperate to hear about the creep’s comeuppance.

“Tick tock, little one,” she said, which seemed odd, as I was quite a bit taller than her. In terms of power, though, I was infinitesimal, which was probably what she meant. “The wolves have almost completed their task.”

“Oh.” Right. I forgot.

“But,” she said, “as a thank you for my Cordelia, I’ll give you this.” She touched my cheek, and a rush of images filled my brain. “Run along now. You can experience my memory later. The bombs will begin in forty-three seconds.” And with that, she disappeared.

I ran for the big metal door. “The queen says forty-three seconds.”

Clive swung me onto his back again and we were racing through the tunnel. We stepped out behind the Bloody Ruin’s dumpster, the dark still thick around us, and I said, “Can you take us to the edge of the asylum property?”

He did, so we had front row seats when the explosions started. I squeezed Clive’s shoulder and he let me down. Moving away from the men, I tapped into my necromancy and called to any still trapped in the asylum, asking them to come to me and pass over.

Could I have forced them? Probably, but my Great Aunt Martha had told me never to do that, never to impose my will over the dead.

I was taught only to ask. The problem was that many of these spirits weren’t in their right minds when they passed.

Was it right to let them linger when they didn’t have the ability to objectively choose?

Did they bring that mental confusion into death, or did it fall away?

I wasn’t sure, so I did the only thing I could. Ignoring the booming and the fire, the alarms and the people beginning to gather, I closed my eyes and sent out wave after wave of love and acceptance, calling the spirits to me so that I could serve as a way station to the other side.

Many came, not all, and with each I was gifted with a burst of color, a barrage of memories, as they passed through me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Viktoria step out from behind some trees to watch us.

There was no wind, but a breeze seemed to blow just for her, swirling her hair around her face.

The last, the one who was shepherding the others, was Léna.

She’d stopped to bid her daughter farewell and then her short, pain-filled life ripped through me.

I caught a moment of joy when she was reunited with her sister on the other side.

Then the door was firmly shut and I was alone again.

Except not really. Clive was there, wiping away my tears and holding me close.

“That last one was Léna, wasn’t it?” Vlad asked.

I nodded.

“Good,” he said.

The pack is in the trees, Clive told me.

I saw.

László stepped out to stand beside Viktoria. He studied the four of us before his gaze settled on me. He nodded once and then, grabbing her arm, they disappeared back into the trees.

“All right, love. Back up you go. I’m afraid we have no car, so we’re running for the airport,” Clive said.

Vlad and Cadmael each took a suitcase and then we were racing so fast, I kept my head down on Clive’s shoulder to avoid my eyes tearing from the wind. And because it was nice. Clive smelled like love, safety, and home.

“Why are you limping?” Clive said.

“Ask your mate,” Cadmael growled back.

Gloriana’s memory was pushing at me, so I popped the soap bubble and…

I’m in a dark place. A ball of light shimmers in a delicate hand.

It’s the queen’s hand still wearing my engagement ring.

She tosses the light up and a golden glow fills the dark wood corridor.

Directly ahead is yet another portrait of the prince.

This one is full-length and shows him holding a great sword.

The queen makes a tsking sound and the portrait crashes to the floor. Centuries of dust and dirt cover every surface. As soon as I note it, it’s gone. Apparently, Gloriana isn’t going to deal with filth.

The dark wood floors and walls gleam. The rugs are thick and lush.

She walks like she knows exactly where she’s going.

She flings open the door at the very end of the hall and steps into a stark room.

I would think it was for storage, if not for the remnants of seven pieces of fabric on the cold floor, the withered husks of fae women lying atop three of them.

Gloriana screams and Algar appears beside her. She points. “Look! Look what he has done to my children.”