Roaring Dawn: Macey Book 3 (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 10)(17)

Damn.

What the hell am I doing here? he demanded again. He pushed the dripping hair from his face. Why am I even here?

Not for the first time—and more likely not for the last—he glared in the direction of the heavens and demanded an answer.

Why am I still here?

All he got for an answer was rain on his face.



+ + +

“Could it really be Rekk’s Pyramid?” Macey asked.

She, Temple, and Chas were all gathered around the onyx bottle stopper, which had prompted Macey’s question.

Chas had returned to The Silver Chalice after exhausting his search for Flora just as Temple had returned—dripping wet and from the outside door, not from the depths of the apartments—from wherever she’d been since who knew when. But from the looks of her, she’d been gone overnight, for even Chas knew the frock she was wearing was for evening.

The proprietor took one look at the destruction in her establishment and said, “I sure as hell hope you’ve got an explanation for this.”

“I do. And it’s going to make you even less happy than a few broken bottles and splintered stools.” With a grim smile, he flipped one of the chairs upright and shoved it into place at its table. “I suggest you get Macey out here too.”

So Macey had been roused from her bed only hours after her own return, and Chas filled them in on his altercation with Flora.

“Rekk’s Pyramid?” Temple frowned, still looking at the onyx stone.

It would be more accurate to say she frowned more, because the irritation lines between her brows and the grim folds at the corners of her mouth hadn’t relaxed since she’d entered the pub and saw the destruction therein.

“When I saw Flora at the photography exhibit, I managed to get some information about it from her. I would have told you earlier,” Macey said, sliding a sidewise glance at the other woman, “but…well, we went our separate ways. You must have gotten home very late, despite the thunderstorms.” She cast her attention down over the same glittering frock Temple had been wearing when they left for the photography exhibit.

A definite flush colored Temple’s cheeks, and now the frown lines eased, turning into something more like a secret smile. “Oh, there was some thunderstormin’ all right, sister,” she muttered. “In a good way.”

Chas cleared his throat and raised his brows. “What else did Flora say last night?”

“She told me Iscariot wanted the Rings of Jubai so he could retrieve Rekk’s Pyramid, which was supposedly in the enchanted pool near Muntii Făgăraș…but apparently someone beat him to it.”

“Presumably Sebastian Vioget.”

“Presumably. I wonder how long he had it. And why he never bothered to tell anyone.” Temple’s frown lines were back, making a little W between her slender brows.

“The joke’s on Iscariot—and whoever else wants the rings. It’s just bad luck Flora happened to be here and see it, or he never would have known.”

“We might not have known either,” Macey said, picking up the object in question for a closer examination. She’d seen it numerous times previously, but never paid it much mind.

The pyramid itself shone black with blue highlights, and it fit easily in the center of her palm. As she held it there, she felt the slightest tremor of something emanating from it…very subtle, and perhaps even imagined. The sensation made her want to set the stone far, far away from herself.

Someone had created a setting for it from silver, like that of a gemstone for a ring. But instead of it being attached to a band, the “gem” sat atop a rubber-ringed silver stopper in the shape of a cone.

“If we had known, or if Flora wouldn’t have managed to escape, we could easily have fooled Iscariot by giving him the rings and sending him on a fool’s errand.” Temple had begun to pick up the shattered glass behind the counter.

“Sorry I didn’t take the chance to dust her,” Chas replied sarcastically, gesturing at his damp, bloody shirt and the fresh scars all over his neck and throat. He was still oozing thick, dark blood, and his hair, though finger-combed away from his face, gleamed with rain. “It wasn’t as if I’ve had multiple opportunities to do so.”

Macey bristled. “Your point is made, Chas. But I couldn’t exactly poke her with a stake in the middle of the Chicago Library. Someone would have noticed.” But when she took a better look and noticed how deep and rough his wounds were, her ire dissipated. Flora had really done a number on him. If he weren’t a Venator, he’d be lucky to still be alive.

“My question is…how did she even know it is Rekk’s Pyramid? Could be she’s wrong.” Temple was piling thick, curved pieces of glass on a towel spread over the bar.

“Could be. But the minute I brought the bottle out from the safe—”

“Which, by the by, what the hell do you mean snooping around back here?” Temple growled.

“Macey’s the one who found it,” Chas retorted. “She’s been sneaking that drink on the sly for week—”

“Traitor,” Macey said. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you have any.”

“Children, children,” Temple mocked them. She paused, standing with her hands on her hips. Her hair was almost dry, and she’d hung up her wet coat. “Do I have to draw circles on the blackboard and make you stand with your noses in them?”

Chas blinked. “What?”

“Never mind,” Macey said. “You were starting to say: when you removed the bottle…?”

“Right. As soon as I removed the bottle, Flora reacted. It was as if she’d been stung…or maybe… Hell, maybe she sensed it. I can feel the evil when I touch it. Maybe that’s why it was locked in a lead safe—we’ve had undead in here before; there’s always that risk—and Vioget couldn’t take the chance that one of them might come in and recognize the pyramid’s presence—or, at least, the presence of something malevolent. So he put it in a safe to mask it.”

“Why even have it in the pub at all?” Macey grumbled. “Why not put the damned thing in the church sacristy like we did with the rings—or somewhere else just as safe?”

Chas shook his head, a small smile playing about his lips. “That’s Vioget for you. He probably found it wildly amusing to know the very thing Iscariot and all the other damned vampires are desperate for was right here, under their noses. And ours as well,” he added darkly.

“Yes. And ours as well. And he never told anyone. We might never have known about it,” Macey added, suddenly horrified at the thought. “What if we’d never found out?”

“More importantly, what if Flora had managed to escape with it?”

Their eyes met, the three of them, and Macey shuddered.

“But now she knows, which means Iscariot will soon know,” Temple said, dropping another piece of glass onto the pile with a sharp clink, as if to punctuate the proverbial falling of the executioner’s blade.

“Right. My question is, what’s he going to use it for? What does it do? Why is it valuable to an undead?” Macey was still holding the innocent-looking object.

“That’s going to require some time in the research library, or an answer from Wayren. And since no one’s heard from her for a while…” Temple said, looking pointedly at them both. “Well, if I didn’t have a disaster to take care of here, and a pub to run, I could—”

“Go off with you, then,” Chas said with a sharp gesture. “That’s more important than opening up the bloody pub—and it’s well before noon anyway. No one expects you to open till five. Plus it’s Sunday anyway—they don’t expect you to open at all. But I sure as hell am not going to hunch over tiny, faded text in languages I don’t know.” He glanced at Macey. “You like books. You could help.”

Obviously, he had a burr in his trunks, but she wasn’t certain why. Because Flora had gotten away? Because she’d left him bleeding and mangled? “Thank you for the suggestion, Chas,” she replied sweetly. “But I think I’ll help out in here.”

“You’ll both just get in my way,” Temple said, sounding like a parent again. “I’ve got all my notes organized, and I know just where to look. As long as the information is there, I’ll find it.”

After Temple left, Macey turned her attention on Chas. “You need to get doctored up.”

“You offering, lulu?” His dark eyes fastened on her mockingly.

“Sure. I’ll be happy to pour salted holy water over your open wounds,” she replied evenly. “Pitchers of it. With great relish.”

He just cast her a black look, then turned to continue setting the tables and chairs upright—using a little more force than necessary.

“Chas, don’t be an ass. Those bites and scratches need to be seen to.” She could make out fresh blood pumping gently from a deep gash over his shoulder, a result of his current exertions.

When he kept whipping the chairs back onto their feet, she stepped away from picking up chunks of glass. As she approached, he stiffened.

“Leave me alone.”

“What the hell happened when Flora was here?”