Harry chuckled. “C’mon, we probably both look like a wreck.” He was right. They both looked awful. He wasn’t sweaty like she was—undead and all—but he was just as roughed up from skidding around running as fast as he could.
Nobody in the hotel seemed to care or notice. Nor were they the only ones that clearly had come from the scene of the “international incident.” Several people were loudly talking into their phones about what they had seen. She didn’t need to know their languages to understand their wide-eyed fear and frantic hand waving.
Once they were in the elevator, she finally let herself relax a little. “I wonder what the news’ll say. ‘Giant evil shadow and priests with superpowers wreck downtown Istanbul’ probably isn’t going to be it.”
“Terrorist attack. That’s my bet.” Harry jabbed the button for their floor. The top floor suites. Of course. Because fancy-pants rich necromancer, that’s why.
“Yeah. I hate thinking about this getting pinned on another religious conflict, but I guess the other option is a worldwide existential crisis. Can’t have that.” She hummed. “I wonder if there’s a whole organization of people working to keep this kind of shit under wraps.”
“I’m sure.”
“Neato.”
“You’re taking this all pretty well.”
She chuckled and shut her eyes. The running had really tired her out. “After setting the Vatican on fire and releasing an ancient vampire, everything else doesn’t seem as nuts anymore. This is my life. I can either roll with it or jump off the balcony. I’ve gone with option two up until now. I want to see how option one plays out. So, why not have fun while I’m at it? Besides, the guy with the flaming sword was pretty badass.”
Harry laughed. Reaching out, he hugged her into his side. “Just glad you’re safe, Mags.”
She hugged him around the waist. “Thank you for protecting me.”
“Anytime.”
* * *
Yeah,the shower hurt like hell. She had more scrapes and bruises than she had realized. The abrasion on her forearm was the main problem, but she found a dozen other small cuts the hard way when she had climbed into the shower.
Pulling on her clothes—sticking with a short-sleeved shirt instead of her hoodie so she could wrap her arm, she walked out of the bathroom of the suite. Harry had gone out to fetch bandages from the pharmacy across the street, and already had them sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for her.
She could see the inky black blot of the undead vulture perched on their balcony, keeping an eye on the world below her. A tuft of feathers stuck out from one of her talons. Probably a pigeon who had made the dubious decision to land nearby.
Harry helped her clean and wrap her arm to the tune of her whining about how much the hydrogen peroxide stung the raw skin. Algernon sat beside her the whole time, wiggling his whiskers and still clutching the quarter of the talisman he had fished out of the display case.
Once her scrapes were cleaned and bandaged, she made them both a gin and tonic. Really, it was for her benefit. She just didn’t want him to feel left out. He was exhausted, so he lay down to sleep after downing his, and she walked out to the balcony to sit and wait for Gideon.
Eurydice glanced at her briefly and shifted her weight from one talon to the other.
“Thanks again, murder bird.” She sipped her drink, looking out over the city of Istanbul. It was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. The river that surrounded the city on two sides reflected the afternoon sun, shining so brightly she could barely look at it. The newer buildings that mixed with the older ones somehow suited the place perfectly. The new building on the old, building on the ancient.
She wondered how much remained of the Constantinian Walls that had kept the city from being ransacked for so many centuries. It was sad how little she knew of the history of the world, having experienced more of it than most people. Not as much as Gideon. Or that vampire I set free.
It suddenly occurred to her how little she actually knew. She had been alive for over four hundred years, give or take, and she felt like a total idiot. Four times the maximum lifespan of a human, and she hadn’t seen or experienced much of the world around her. Not that she could remember, anyway.
And what she had seen, she was pretty sure she spent more wrapped up in her own misery than appreciating where she was. Control, freedom, power—life. That’s what she wanted. She wanted to live. To really, really live.
A dark shadow slipped over the edge of the railing, and it startled her so badly she nearly dropped her drink. As it was, some of the gin spilled onto her hand, and with the sudden sting she discovered another one of the cuts she’d earned.
The smoke-like form of the lich slithered onto the balcony, and then took the shape of the more familiar Gideon. He collapsed into the chair next to her, covered in bits and pieces of dust and rubble.
“Don’t take this the wrong way.” She held out her drink to him. “You look like shit.”
He laughed quietly, taking the drink and downing half of it in a gulp before passing it back. “I look better than they do.” He plucked a piece of rock from his sleeve and flicked it away. “I never did like that building, anyway.”
She laughed and shook her head. “You all right?”
“I’m always all right. Nothing a good night’s rest and a few bottles of wine won’t solve.” When he saw her bandaged arm, he frowned and sat forward. “What happened?”
“Oh, just a good case of road rash from skidding along a building. I tripped when Harry and I were running away.” She held her arm out for him to examine it.