The Sleeper and the Silverblood

Unease crawled over Kitara’s skin as she left her apartment that evening, like eyes followed her every move. But not a single breath or movement indicated surveillance. The unease didn’t abate, and she silently thanked Storm again for suggesting she prepare a go-bag. It didn’t help with the disquiet, but she felt better knowing she could disappear quickly if necessary.

Following a disconcerting call with Devika that afternoon, Kitara had to find Baylen.

Kitara headed for The Sanguine Queen. The Maker’s “friends” held court there tonight, lounging and laughing in their VIP area.

Kitara sidled up to the bar and found an empty stool: a wonder, given the establishment was nearly at capacity. Blake nodded and held up a finger, to which she waved a hand. She wondered when Storm would head home. Maybe his father—

No, she wouldn’t think about that. He would have let her know already if Cornelius stopped him. But the lack of communication from him, even after her conversation with Dev, put her on edge.

She almost laughed at the irony: oh, how far they’d come since those first fraught days of their partnership. Relationship? Whatever they were, she’d be relieved when he came home.

Blake finally approached. “Busy night,” he commented.

“I noticed. Just give me whatever vodka’s easiest.”

“You got it.”

As Kitara waited for her drink, she surveyed the crowd. No head of flaming red or brilliant white hair. She paid Blake, who was much too swamped to make idle chit-chat, then went searching for a dark booth where she could covertly observe.

In the smokiest corner of the bar, she settled into the only available booth: small, designed for two people. The acrid smoke from cigarettes and who knew what else clouded the ceiling overhead, giving the impression that eerie, blue-tinged fog hung over the azure-lighted area.

A burst of laughter erupted from the VIP area. Kitara peered across the bar, then her eyes widened. She recognized one of the faces.

Jamal and Scarlet sat with the Maker’s friends.

Storm’s aura blossomed nearby, shifting her focus. Surprised, she pulled her phone from her pocket and checked the screen.

No new messages.

She looked up again, brow furrowed. Why hadn’t he told her he had returned from Myragos? Or let her know he would meet her out here tonight?

He came in wearing a dark sweatshirt over black jeans, the hood obscuring most of his face. Blake noted his entrance with a slight frown, but no one else appeared to recognize him as the rash Valëtyrian who repeatedly visited. Kitara sat straight up as he pushed through the jostling crowd, his expression unreadable.

When Storm reached her table, she regarded him with the general disdain of a Fallen facing an unwelcome angel. Yet for a moment, she forgot her pretense at the look in his eyes. Hard and cold, like the frozen mercury of their first meeting, it sent a chill down her spine. He didn’t speak, but emotion radiated off him in near-palpable waves.

Before Kitara could determine if this was an act, Storm leaned over her, speaking in a low voice meant only for her ears. “I know who you are.”

Fear iced over her heart as the darkness within her raised its head in wary concern.

Kitara tried to play it off. “What are you talking about?”

In the same moment, she reached out to touch his mind, to privately ascertain his intent. His subsequent refusal, therefore, sent surprised anxiety thrumming through her.

“I know what your father was.”

Kitara couldn’t breathe. Panic rooted her to her seat. “Storm, I—”

“No more lies,” he growled. “You told me once you wouldn’t lie to me. That I might ask questions you wouldn’t answer, but you wouldn’t lie. Was that, in and of itself, a lie?”

“No, of course not—”

“Are you actually a Ninthëvel, Kitara Vakrenade?”

She winced at the sound of her full name, and not because he should have called her “Sabine.”

If she didn’t defuse the situation, he would blow her cover. Acid churned in her stomach while fear stripped her nerves raw, exposed and vulnerable. “Storm, there are things I can’t talk about,” she whispered. “Things I’m forbidden to talk about…” The suspicion in his eyes made her chest ache.

The air around them crackled with electricity. It swirled in his aura, his power pressing against her own. For a moment, she worried the emotion roiling through him might turn into something more powerful. Something much darker and more dangerous.

And her own inner darkness was not responding well to his volatility.

“Don’t do this here,” Kitara managed, suddenly grateful for the hazy atmosphere camouflaging the wispy darkness curling around her clenched fingers. “You are going to get us both killed.”

“I visited my mom before I went to Myragos, did you know that?” Grief echoed so strongly in Storm’s voice, a lump rose in Kitara’s throat. “Where she’s been for almost fifty years. And when I left Valëtyria, I passed the facility again, except that time I knew your dad probably put her there!”

“Storm, that’s not—”

“Did you really attack Phoenix because of Devika? Or were you just trying to continue what your fucking family started?”

“Keep your voice down—”

“All this time, telling me you ‘don’t want to lie,’ encouraging me to find the truth—fuck, is anybody capable of telling me the fucking truth?” His voice cracked on the last word.

“I am.” Her voice came out smaller than she liked. “I’ve always told you the truth—”

“Just stop it. Stop it! Your entire—” he gestured in her direction “—everything is a lie. Stars and hellfire, I’m such an idiot; I fell for it! Fell for you! Would I have been next? Hasn’t my family lost enough?”

Unshed tears shone in her eyes. “I can’t explain here,” she rasped. “You have to let me explain—”

“No. I’m done.” The hurt in Storm’s expression disappeared behind a mask of cold, brutal indifference. “Find yourself a new handler, Kitara. I can’t—I can’t do this anymore.” He clenched his fists at his sides as electricity sparked in his hands. “My dad tried to warn me—I should never have accepted this assignment in the first place.”

Kitara tentatively reached for him. “Storm…”

He jerked away like she might burn him. “Don’t.” The ice in his tone raised goosebumps on her arms. “Don’t try to make this okay.” He laughed with a bitterness that twisted Kitara’s heart. “This will never be okay—”

“Is everything all right over here?”

The two of them looked up. A few feet away, Blake warily observed the exchange. Kitara didn’t think she’d ever seen him out from behind the bar before. Scarlet’s fiery hair stood out behind him, her red eyes darting between them as she tried to decipher their interaction.

Another time, Kitara might have appreciated the vampiress checking on her despite her meeting with the Maker’s friends.

“Fine,” Kitara rasped, swiping at her eyes. “Just an angel being a colossal dick to a Fallen. Nothing new.”

Storm scoffed at her description.

Blake scowled at him and pointed in the direction of the door. “Get the fuck out. Step foot in my place again, I’ll hand you over to anyone who wants you.”

Without a word, the silverblood spun on his heel and disappeared through the doors again.

“Jesus, chiclet…” Scarlet stepped forward.

“You okay, Sabine?” Blake asked, his expression still wary.

Kitara waved a hand at the pair as she tried to compose herself and preserve her cover. “I should be used to this,” she said with a shaky laugh. “But fucking hell, they’re so good at finding new ways to tell me what a piece of scum they think I am. I shouldn’t let it get to me—”

Scarlet grimaced. “This is my fault. I brought you to his attention, even when you told me not to. Christ, I’m sorry. Let me buy a round of drinks, yeah? I think you’re in need of some hard liquor.”

“On the house,” Blake added. “I shouldn’t have let him in, not after the other night.”

Kitara nodded but the way Scarlet emphasized the word “hard” discouraged any desire to imbibe anything the vampiress brought back.

Scarlet followed the bartender across the establishment to collect whatever “hard” drinks they had in mind.

“That was monumentally stupid.” Another voice in her ear made Kitara spin with a stifled squeak.

Brilliant sapphire eyes and shocking white hair stood behind her booth.

Kitara pressed a hand to her chest, heart hammering. “Fuck, you scared me. Stars…”

“Was he trying to get you both killed?” Baylen hissed, his gaze glued to the redheaded vampiress who stood at the bar as Blake poured drinks from behind it. Clearly, the Netherling had no desire for Scarlet to notice his presence.

“I don’t know,” Kitara choked out. “Stars, I just don’t know.”

Baylen observed her for a long moment with something she would almost call concern. “Make your excuses to the vampiress,” he said after a beat. “But extricate yourself and meet me at The Lantern once you do.”

Kitara could only nod, too shell-shocked to produce a more coherent response. By the time Scarlet returned with drinks that looked as dangerous as she implied, Baylen had already disappeared.

“You okay?”

Kitara nodded, cradling the glass in her hands. “Yeah. He just…blindsided me, I guess.”

“What the hell did you say to him the other night? Blake said something went down.”

“Well, I kinda threw my drink in his face.”

Scarlet stared at her, then began to laugh. “Only you would do something like that in Blake’s bar!”

“He tried to get handsy,” Kitara defended herself. “And I don’t tolerate that shit.”

“Also probably my fault,” Scarlet replied with a grimace. “I was toying with him before I left…”

“Yeah, after you teased me with the possibility of information about the Maker.”

“Right.” Scarlet appeared genuinely contrite. “I’ll tell you what I know. I got some intel about what happened to Erik.”

“You did?” Kitara replied, surprised. “I’ll be honest, I figured everyone had forgotten about him by now.”

Scarlet put a hand over her chest where her heart should have been. “I’m hurt,” she said with a pout. “What matters to you matters to me.”

Kitara resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “What did you find out?”

“You were right,” Scarlet said in an almost-whisper. “The Maker was involved. ”

The Sleeper’s heart leapt into her throat. “He was?”

Scarlet nodded. “I heard the Maker suspected Erik’s loyalties, so he killed him.”

Kitara frowned. “Loyalties? How?”

The vampiress shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe Erik somehow got in with him and did something stupid, like skim money or leak information to a rival. Maybe the AIDO approached him. No idea. Either way, the Maker has no patience for shit like that.”

So they didn’t definitively know he had ties to the AIDO. That was something, at least.

Kitara sighed. “Thanks for telling me. Obviously, I have my own reasons to suspect his loyalties since he was screwing around on me. The Maker probably did me a favor.”

“He might have,” the redhead agreed.

“Scarlet.”

They looked up at Jamal hovering nearby, his gaze darting sullenly between the vampiress and the Sleeper.

Scarlet’s expression cooled. “What?”

His eyes flickered to Kitara again, then he jerked his chin toward the opposite side of the bar. “They want to see you.”

They all turned to see the group of VIPs watching them with poorly-concealed interest.

“Sorry, Sabine,” Scarlet said, rising. “If it was anything else—”

Kitara shook her head. “It’s fine. I think I’m going to head out anyway. The angel kinda killed my buzz.”

Scarlet edged toward the VIP tables. “Understandable.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks!”

With that, the two vampires cut through the haze and headed back across the bar.