Nightbred(6)
She straightened, pocketing the broken shard as she nodded at the girl’s upper arm. “One of your tats is peeling off.”
Like most Darkyn strongholds, Alenfar had two sides: public and private. Aboveground Lucan maintained the nightclub, the business offices, the guest quarters, the workout rooms, and the penthouse, all of which appeared as modern and functional as any beachfront property. In the expansive network of tunnels and chambers Lucan had built two levels belowground were the real and very private workings of the jardin, which included the garrison’s quarters, training facilities, the weapons forge and armory, the assembly hall, the infirmary, as well as a dozen passages to and from the suzerain’s surrounding properties.
Once inside the elevator Chris opened a panel and entered her pass code into a small keypad, which overrode the lift’s normal operating functions and sent the elevator down two floors. When the cab stopped, she keyed in a second code to open the doors, and stepped out into what appeared to be a half-empty storage room.
Two guards in full battle armor stood flanking the reinforced steel door on the other side of the room. Both studied her before they lowered their automatic weapons.
“Good evening, Miss Christian.” Aldan, a behemoth with a scarred face, braided silver mane, and laser beam blue eyes, inclined his head.
“Hey, Dan.” She smiled at him. “I need to go to the armory and see Mr. Turner.”
“Would you be needing an escort, Miss Chris?” That came from the other guard, Glenveagh, who was as tall and slim as Aldan was broad and bulky, and wore his blazing red hair in a fiery skullcap.
“No, thanks, Glen, I’m good.” She avoided looking directly into his big green eyes, which was the most polite way to discourage the interest of a Kyn warrior.
Aldan used one hand to open the door, which was too heavy for a mortal to budge, but stopped her with a hand as the distant sound of shouting echoed through the tunnel. “Mayhap I will walk you in myself.”
Chris would have liked nothing better than to go into the armory with Aldan at her side; the big warrior had a fearsome rep among the garrison. But if Turner had needed a guard, he would have sent for one, and if she kept hiding behind the guys while doing her job, no one would ever respect her as a tresora.
“That’s okay, Dan. It’s just a minor misunderstanding with the newbies,” she told him. “I’ve got it.”
He gave her a long, shrewd look before he nodded slowly. “We shall leave the door open until you return.”
She also had a valuable resource that the guards didn’t, one she kept on speed dial. As she walked down the hall, she tucked her wireless headset over her ear, covering it with her hair before she pressed 2 on her mobile.
“Realm Management,” a cool voice answered the line.
“Good evening, Lady Jayr.” She kept her voice to a murmur. “How are things in Orlando?”
“As vexing as ever. Aedan wishes to open another theme park, and does not believe me when I say modern mortals have no desire to attend Medieval Torture World.” Jayr mac Byrne, the only female suzeraina in the world, had been one of the first Kyn to befriend Chris. “You are well? Why are you whispering?”
“Lucan and Sam are occupied upstairs, Burke is at the airport, and we’ve got a visiting-warrior situation.” Chris stopped in her tracks as she heard angry voices spilling out into the hall. “Evidently the men are squabbling over a summons the high lord sent. If you’re not too busy, I could use some advice.”
“Tell me what you know,” Jayr said at once.
Chris quickly related what Turner had said before she added, “I’m almost to the armory now.”
“You should have Lucan attend to this, Christian,” Jayr scolded. “Whether bound by oath or visiting, all warriors within the stronghold answer to the suzerain.”
“If they were actually trying to kill each other, I would,” she assured her. “But Turner called me, and as a tresora I’m supposed to try to handle it myself first. Okay, I’m here. Let me take a peek at what’s happening.” She tiptoed up to the open door of the armory and darted a glance around the edge.
“Tell me what you see,” the suzeraina urged.
Chris swung back, pressing her shoulder blades to the wall. Now she had to whisper. “Ten guys, five on each side. There’s a torn piece of paper on the floor between them, and everyone’s holding copper swords pointed at each other. No blood, and no one’s dead.”
“Yet. The master of the armory, where is he?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t see him.” Which could mean anything; he might be staying out of sight, or he could already be dead. Chris felt the seep of her worry widen into a stream of panic. “Maybe I should get the guards.”