The Sleeper and the Silverblood

Outmanned, outgunned, and outmaneuvered, Kitara panted against the ash-dusted, blood-spattered concrete. Tears and sweat mixed with blood, leaving weak red rivulets down the sides of her face.

“You done?” Scarlet asked as the Sleeper stilled. Kitara took a shuddering breath and didn’t answer. It didn’t matter. The vampire jerked her chin in Jamal’s direction. “Get her inside.”

Jamal complied with a gleeful leer. He skimmed his long pale fingers over Kitara’s body, but his hands lingered over her breasts, then her hips. With a snarl, she jerked to one side and lashed out with a foot she could still feel, connecting with Jamal’s crotch. Burning pain seared up her leg—the broken bone, no doubt.

“Fuck!” The vampire stumbled back a few steps and fell to his knees, his hands tucked between his legs. “Fucking bitch…”

Scarlet sighed with exaggerated annoyance. “Idiot,” she muttered. “If you weren’t trying to cop a feel…” She jerked her head at the remaining vampires, who in turn dragged Kitara into the apartment. A trail of blood streaked the floor, pooling beneath her once they dragged her inside. Whatever they wanted her for, they needed her alive.

“Nice place.” Scarlet surveyed the space as she sank leisurely onto the couch in front of the prone Sleeper.

Jamal hobbled in after them holding the discarded gun, his expression a mask of hatred.

“I really should thank you,” Scarlet said. “Your little showdown with the angel last night gave me what I needed to get the Maker’s friends’ attention. He sends his regards, by the way.”

They were working together.

Kitara closed her eyes against the surge of betrayal. Had Baylen’s text been a ploy to get her to leave her flat?

How stupid can I get?

“They wondered why an angel would keep bothering with a Dor out here,” Scarlet continued, enjoying herself. “What was it you said once? Slayers don’t mess with Doruri unless they’ve done something really impressive to piss Valëtyria off? Guess you were speaking from experience. But his attention got their attention, and wouldn’t you know—turns out the General himself put a bounty on your head. You must have done something truly spectacular to end up on Valëtyria and Ostragarn’s shit list.”

“So how much am I worth?” Kitara couldn’t resist asking. She needed information, any information that could give her an edge.

Scarlet chuckled, revealing fangs that gleamed in the dim light. “More than you can imagine, Sabine.”

Her cover was still intact, somehow. Storm’s confrontation hadn’t unmasked her—and given Scarlet’s blasé reference to him, his true identity remained hidden too.

She shouldn’t feel relief, but she did.

He’s safe.

“You’re going to do great things for us,” Scarlet murmured. “The General wasn’t sure about it at first. Apparently, the Maker had to spend some time convincing him you were the one he wanted. But those eyes…” A red cat-like smile spread across the vampire’s face. She leaned forward from her seat on the couch for a closer look at Kitara, who briefly considered spitting in her face. “Those eyes,” the vampire repeated. “He said they’d be like gems. The Dor with luminescent green eyes.”

“…A Dor with luminescent green eyes and a body that would tempt angels…”

Baylen called her the same thing.

Kitara’s lids fluttered closed, hiding the aforementioned eyes from Scarlet’s vicious red scrutiny.

“You’re so quiet all of a sudden,” Scarlet said, her tone mocking. “Don’t have anything you’d like to say?”

When Kitara refused to answer, the vampiress let out a dramatic exhale. “Guess I’d better go call him, then.” She jerkedher chin in Jamal’s direction. “Don’t fuck her up too badly. He wants her alive. And never say I don’t do anything nice for you.”

With that, Scarlet rose from the couch and exited to the corridor outside Kitara’s flat, her stilettos clicking mockingly the whole way.

The other vampires followed, leaving her and Jamal alone in the bloodied flat.

The paralytic—not to mention her broken bones, wings, and flesh—had left Kitara in a compromised state. Even if she wanted to wield the darkness of her father’s family, which she didn’t, they would kill her long before she could kill them all first.

Jamal loomed over her, a leering snarl on his face, gun still in hand. “Not so tough now that Blake’s lapdog isn’t around, are you?”

His words gave her pause.

Blake’s lapdog…

Was Baylen working with them or not?

She didn’t have more time to consider it. Jamal seized her by her hair, yanking her head up with a jerk. She stifled a hiss at the pain in her scalp.

“With what I have in mind,” Jamal crooned in her ear, “you’ll be begging Scarlet to let the General have you before I’m done.”

She would never see Devika again…

Grief washed through her, and Kitara closed her eyes.

«Dev…»

A beat.

«Kitara?» Devika sounded sleepy.

«I’m—I’m so—sorry.»

The Historian’s consciousness came into sharp focus immediately. «Kitara, what’s happening? Oh my god, Kitara…»

«I love you.»

«No no no, don’t you say that, Kitara!»

The Sleeper wouldn’t let her witness whatever the vampire had planned. She cut the connection. From her prone position on the floor, she could see the dust bunnies living under her couch.

Her eyes settled on a lumpy dark shape just on the other side of the couch.

Her go-bag.

Within which she’d packed a spare set of knives.

Her state of consciousness was iffy at best, and the blood loss alone would make her sloppier than usual. With damaged wings and a broken leg, she wasn’t exactly playing with a full deck, but any chance of escaping hinged on getting to the duffel bag.

She needed to get this paralytic out of her system. She needed to be able to move.

She swore never again, but this…this was an extenuating circumstance.

In the dim light of her flat, Jamal didn’t notice when dark power twisted around her deadened fingers, then sank into her skin. The tendrils of inky blackness snaked through her veins, darkening the vessels in her arms for a moment, then disappeared.

Feeling surged back into her hands.

Déjà vu. That’s what this was. Storm stared blankly at the text conversation between himself and Kitara, where she’d left him on read.

Again.

And whose fault is that, asshole?

With a deep sigh, he sent another message.

Kit, I’m so sorry.

He tossed his phone on his bed, feeling defeated.

Ninthëvel. Ninthëvel. Ninthëvel.

It echoed around and around in his brain.

What had Aramis said?

“…those answers may change the way you perceive the world, your mother, and yourself. There is no going back…”

The Myragnar couldn’t have known how right she was.

Someone banged on his door, startling him.

“Storm!” someone yelled. “Let me in!”

Panic saturated Devika’s voice.

Storm jumped up and wrenched open the door. “Dev, what—”

“It’s Kitara,” she cried.

Storm’s heart plummeted into his stomach.

With disheveled hair, wearing shorts and a t-shirt, Devika had clearly just woken up. “She—she mindspoke with me and she sounded…she sounded bad, Storm. I didn’t catch all of it and I tried to find Kenric but he’s missing too.” Devika wrung her hands. “I think…I think she’s in trouble.”

All the color drained from Storm’s face. He swore loudly and dashed back into his room.

Devika followed. “What are you going to do?” she asked with a tremor in her voice.

“Well I can’t just sit here, that’s for damn sure,” he said as he fished his phone out of his pocket. “Did you get any indication of where she was?”

“I don’t know. Her flat, maybe…?”

Storm initiated a phone call.

Voicemail.

With a snarling curse, he dialed again.

Alasdair picked up this time. “Now’s not a good time, Storm—”

“’Dair,” Storm cut him off as he pulled on clothes. “I need a portal, now. I don’t care how you do it, I don’t care what corners you have to cut—”

“Storm, I can’t just—”

“Kit’s in trouble!” Storm barked, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder as he laced up his boots. “I don’t have time to argue ’Dair, please!”

“Storm, I don’t know what to tell you, something else has happened and they’re all in use—the Commander’s just blown through here—”

“Alasdair Vidmar,” Storm ground out through his teeth. “So help me, if you don’t find a way, I will blast my way out of this facility and charbroil anyone who tries to stop me.”

A second of silence—a second that felt interminable as Storm waited.

The response finally came. “You and Kitara…that’s how it is?”

“That’s how it is,” Storm snapped.

“Shit,” the Engineer swore. “Okay. Keep your tablet on you. I’ll try to find one not actively transmitting.”

“Thanks, ’Dair, I owe you—”

“Storm?”

They spun. Zayne stood in his doorway, having apparently heard them a few doors down. He too appeared to have just stumbled out of bed.

“I’ll be on standby,” Storm said into the phone and hung up.

Zayne frowned at their expressions. “Stars, what happened now—”

“Kitara’s in trouble,” Devika interrupted.

He blinked. “Shit, how?”

“I don’t know,” Devika wailed. “She’s hurt, I don’t know—”

“What are you doing?” Zayne asked Storm.

“I’m going to her.” Storm pulled a black hoodie over his head.

“Storm, wait.” Zayne held up his hands. “Let’s wait and think about this. Your dad—”

“I’m her handler. It’s my job to protect her.” Storm’s tablet chimed a soft melody at him. A glowing blue sigil appeared on the screen. “Alasdair’s hacked a portal.”

“Jesus…” Zayne muttered, rubbing his forehead.

His phone rang—Alasdair.

Storm answered. “Yeah?”

“Be back in thirty minutes. Whatever happened out there tonight…it’s bad.”

“I’ll be back before then,” Storm promised.

“Be careful.” The Engineer hung up.

Storm set coordinates on his tablet.

“I want to come with you—” Devika began.

“No way,” he cut her off fiercely. “I have no idea what I’m walking into. She’d never forgive me if I put you in danger.”

“What should we do?” Devika asked with a trembling breath.

Storm hesitated. “If I’m not back in thirty minutes…” he began as the sigil appeared on the floor before him. “If I’m not back by then…”

“You’ll probably be dead,” Zayne muttered darkly.

“Let’s hope not,” Storm growled under his breath, then stepped on the sigil.

The blue light hummed, surged, then both he and it vanished.