Page 31 of A Kiss of Flame
The moment they entered the room, Barith understood why the inner chambers weren’t offered to everyone. The first face he recognized was the elected Magistrate for the witches of London—a chubby male witch stripped to his boxer shorts, bound, gagged, and bent over a table as a daemon male and female dressed in leathers tickled him with outrageously long feathers. Next was a fae princess passionately rolling about naked withtwo other fae females from different kingdoms on one of the giant pillows. A zephyr highborn, likely of the Court, lounged on a couch, his white feathery wings unfurled as a topless pixie straddled him, dropping raspberries into his mouth. He waved lazily at Levian in greeting. The last familiar face was Deckland, Sirus and Niah’s vampire brother, who sat in the darkest corner, fully clothed, with his grey shirt half unbuttoned, smoking a long pipe.
The vampire stared directly at him, causing Barith’s skin to prickle. He still got that chill when Sirus looked at him, despite knowing the vamp for centuries. He was surprised to see Deckland here—vampires weren’t usually welcome amongst the Folk, even in these circles. Though things had shifted somewhat for vampires in recent years, given their impending extinction. They were a rare commodity. Only a dozen or so remained now. The magick used to create new ones had stopped working over a century ago.
Levian glided along the edge of the room, taking two glasses of pink, bubbling fae wine from a tray. She yanked Barith into a vacant, dark alcove. “We may have a problem,” she mumbled, shoving a drink into his hand.
He grunted. “Already? Is it the zephyr?”
Levian took a sip and turned to look at him. “The zephyr is a highborn brat whose father sits on the Zephyr High Court and would likely have him flogged if he knew his son was here with a pixie.”
Barith grunted again. “Sounds like a real peach.”
Levian rubbed her temple. “The point is he won’t say anything about seeing me here, and I won’t say anything about seeing him either. Did you see Deckland?”
“Aye,” Barith grumbled, peeking out from their nook. The vampire was still watching him. A shiver ran up his spine, dousing some of the raging fire Levian had left behind.
“Well,” the mage whispered, her voice barely audible above the thumping electronic music—an odd choice, given the nostalgic decor. “I’d forgotten until just now that Niah mentioned something about Deckland working for some pixies in the Americas.”
Barith’s stomach churned. “What kind of work?” he questioned.
Levian’s face was uncertain. “I don’t know, but him being here tonight feels like more than a coincidence. I think he might be involved in tonight’sdeal.”
“He could just be here for the same reason as everyone else,” Barith countered. “It’s not like some of the Folk don’t enjoy vampires, and this crowd clearly has unique tastes.”
Levian let out a deep breath through her nose, downing her wine. “Maybe,” she half-conceded. “But I have a feeling and?—”
“Ye, I know,” he grumbled, finishing his glass too. “Yer instincts are never wrong. He could be doing other work, though,” he added. “Ye can’t know he’s here to do that deal. He might just be here to kill someone.”
Levian shot him a look that said enough. Deckland wouldn’t be so noticeable if he were here to kill someone, and that wasn’t exactly what his and Sirus’s clan of vampires was known for. They were hunters primarily. Trackers.
Her gaze drifted, and Barith’s stomach grew more uneasy. “We need to stick to the plan,” he reminded her. “Play with the others, build goodwill, meet with those pixies, and negotiate for them to sell your orb. Don’t involve Deckland if you don’t?—”
“Don’t you think we should at least try to find out if Deckland is involved?” she pressed. “If he’s brokering deals for Dökk artifacts with the Eldreth, it’s not exactlynothing.”
“It’s his business,” Barith said firmly. “We aren’t part of his clan, and neither is he anymore.” He’d left it years ago, leaving Sirus and Niah as the last two remaining members of the Clan ofWolves. Deckland was a rogue vampire now, which made him an even more dangerous wild card.
Levian let out an irritated huff. “We can’t ignore him,” she snapped. “It’d be strange if we did.”
“I think we can do just that,” he told her. Neither of them knew Deckland well; if he was working with the Eldreth, that was even more the reason to leave him be.
The mage snorted, and Barith’s unease deepened. Levian was stubborn, and once her heart was set on something, it was near impossible to deter her—short of locking her in a steel box. Barith didn’t doubt he could find one here in Kamár, but he doubted the attendants could get one fast enough.
He’d been right. “I’ll just say hello,” Levain told him, sliding out of the alcove and heading straight for the vampire, leaving Barith with little choice but to swallow his anxieties. He cursed, still facing the wall, then turned to follow.
Deckland had been an English aristocrat, by Barith’s guess, before he’d been turned into a vampire. The vamp was of average height, ghostly pale, with a slim athletic build, wavy dark hair, thick brows, a hooked nose, and slightly crooked teeth, forever appearing in his early thirties.
As they approached, Deckland finally shifted his gaze from Barith to Levian. “Well,” Deckland drawled, exhaling a puff from his pipe, “what brings two of my brother’s wayward friends all the way down to the catacombs of London?”
“A pleasure to see you again, too, Deckland,” Levian replied, notably standing behind the empty chair across from the vampire instead of taking it. “I thought you were in the Americas?”
Deckland smiled slightly, his crystalline blue eyes shifting between them. “I was,” he replied. “I came over for a bit of work.”
Barith could sense Levian’s tension rising like his own. It’s why nobody liked lingering around vampires. The instinctual discomfort felt near vampires had lessened with Niah and Sirus due to familiarity and exposure, but Deckland was unpredictable.
“I see,” Levian said. “Have you been home, then? To visit Volkov?”
Deckland’s face lit with the pale orange glow of his pipe, smoke seeping from his nostrils. His taunting demeanor shifted to something darker. “I haven’t. Though I hear my brother is to be married. Apparently, all the Hells of the Underworld can freeze over after all.”
Barith doubted Deckland knew the whole story. It wasn’t as if the vampires shared family gossip. Barith wasn’t even sure Deckland knew about Gwen possessing the Celestial Star of Umbra or that she was now half-vampire.