A female voice began singing in tune with the melody. Other voices joined in, their individual sounds like stems of a single tree, growing fast and winding around the first singer. The air smelled of flowers, bergamot, and lemon. A feeling of deep peace descended on the room as if the tranquility of the garden and the singers wrapped around us, not isolating us from the world, but gently muting its sharpness to a soothing calm. Soft light spilled from the ceiling onto the Marshal, forming a complex circular pattern on the floor.
He turned to me, his eyes opened wide. "The Liturgy for the Wounded Soul. How did you know?"
My parents had sheltered injured vampire knights before. "I'm an innkeeper," I told him.
He took a step forward and bowed. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. May She Who Heals ease his suffering."
"It will be as She wills it."
He turned to Lord Soren's body and knelt in the circle of light, his hair all but glowing.
Sean rolled his eyes, still seated in the chair.
"Are you sure you don't want to rest?" I asked him.
He leaned over, stole a crocheted blanket off the loveseat's back, and spread it over himself. "See? Perfectly comfortable."
"Good night."
"Good night."
I went upstairs. I had an wounded vampire knight, a Marshal of a vampire House praying over him, and an unstable werewolf watching over them in case either of them tried something funny. If only Dad and Mom were here, it would feel just like home.
Chapter Ten
I woke up because the morning sun was shining bright through the gap in my curtains, flooding the bedroom with honey-yellow light. It was so quiet. Usually birds were chirping by my window, but I guess I'd slept too late.
Common sense required that I had to come up with some sort of plan of action regarding the dahaka. I needed information, and I would have to somehow get that information out of the two vampires. I'd read what I could on the House of Krahr. They were a midsized vampire House with a long lineage and a fine tradition of extreme violence in the name of the Holy Anocracy. So far they had yet to contribute either a Hierophant, who served as the religious leader of the Anocracy, or a Warlord, a designated commander-in-chief of the Anocracy's combined military forces, who would lead them if a foreign invasion occurred. However, the knights of Krahr were financially stable, politically adept, respected by their peers and their rivals, and disinclined to suffer any insults.
In other words, they were a traditional House, which meant they would be secretive and suspicious and would take offense if the wind blew the wrong way. I was unlikely to be getting any answers out of them. I would need a crowbar just to learn the Marshal's name.
I looked at the wooden ceiling. Sadly no answers appeared on the planks. I'd gone through several bedroom styles in my life and my parents' inn always obliged. When I was a small child, I had a pretty princess bedroom, complete with a four-poster bed and clouds on the ceiling. When I was around ten, I saw a documentary about a Dale Chihuly glass exhibit and became obsessed with the strange bright shapes. My parents' inn had grown glass tendrils on the ceiling in every color of the rainbow. When the sun hit it in the morning, my room had shimmered like a mermaid's underwater palace in the middle of a magical reef. At thirteen, I wanted my room to be solid black. At sixteen, some of the black turned white for an uncompromising modern look. I had thought it was very adult. Going away to college was the strangest experience of my life, because for the first time my room refused to change depending on my mood.
When I moved to the Gertrude Hunt, I wasn't in a good place. I had been bumming about the universe looking for my parents for about three years and failed. I had told Klaus I wanted to stop looking, but he couldn't. The kids of innkeepers went one of three ways. A few led perfectly ordinary lives, happy to trade the sometimes uncertain environment of the inns for the reassurance of not having to worry about odd things like two ifrits from different hordes having a brawl in the lobby and setting the house on fire. Others became innkeepers, and fewer still became ad-hal. But the majority of us left, drawn away from Earth, into the cosmic Beyond. My brother was one of those travelers. There was too much to see and too much to do. He loved me but he wouldn't settle down and play house with me because I missed our parents.
Once I had accumulated a little money, I returned to Earth and went before the Assembly and passed with flying colors. There were only so many spots open for new innkeepers, and a high score was important. Normally a new innkeeper replaced one ready to retire or opened an entirely new inn, but for some unknown reason they had offered me the Gertrude Hunt, an old abandoned inn that had fallen so dormant nobody was sure it could be awakened. It seemed somehow fitting: we were both orphaned and unwanted. I accepted the offer and coaxed the Gertrude Hunt out of hibernation.
When I restructured the inn and created my suite, I wanted comfort and I wanted to feel at home. I was tired of not having a place that was just mine. I'd always had this romantic idea about a mountain lodge lost somewhere in the snowdrifts. I didn't want to completely replicate that, but I came close. Above me, heavy wooden beams crossed the knotty pine boards. The ceiling slanted at an angle, simulating an attic room, the lowest point near the queen-sized bed, the highest at the opposite wall where a tall window flooded the bedroom with light. The walls were a soothing beige, the thick rug by the bed was eggshell, but the same wide planks of knotty pine lined the floor. It wasn't a fancy place, but it was warm, comfortable, and completely mine.
I lay in the comfort of my bed and evaluated my situation. Right now I had three beings in the inn who were neither guests nor staff. Having strangers in the inn was a really bad idea. When a guest was admitted to the inn, both the guest and the innkeeper were bound by the rules of hospitality. The innkeeper promised to protect and shelter the guest, while the guest promised to abide by the inn's rules. Compensation changing hands sealed that deal.
Neither Sean nor the vampires had promised to abide by the rules of the inn. They were in this gray, undefined area, and I liked things to be clear. I couldn't shake the feeling that somehow I was botching this whole thing up. Somehow even my bedroom didn't feel as secure as it had a week ago.
Lying in bed brooding about things wouldn't solve anything. I got up and went to the bathroom to freshen up. I was brushing my teeth when the house creaked. Something was happening downstairs.
I got dressed and went down the staircase. Lord Soren still lay on the table and the Marshal still knelt by him. A circle of thin sage-green stalks sprouted around him, each delicate two-foot-tall stem tipped with a narrow bud.
Sean still sat in his chair. Beast sat on his blanket-covered lap. They were both staring at the vampire with identical freaked-out looks on their very different faces.
Sean saw me, pointed at the vampire, and mouthed, "What the hell?"
I walked over to them. "Has he moved at all?"
"No. Stayed like that the whole night. Are you seeing this?"
I had expected as much. "He's praying and emitting a lot of magic. The inn is responding a little. Nothing to worry about. Under normal circumstances, I would've given them a private space, but we were in a hurry."
When things settled, I would need to allocate an easily accessible room specifically for emergencies. A hospital room wouldn't be a bad idea anyway, once funds were less tight.
Lord Soren took a long shuddering breath. His eyes snapped open. The buds split, opening into flowers, each with five intense blue petals. At the very center, the petals suddenly turned bright purple, forming a thin round border around five stamens tipped with yellow.
The Marshal raised his head and smiled. "Hello, Uncle."
"Arland," Lord Soren said, swallowing, his voice labored.
Arland stood up. "Why didn't you wait for me?"
"Time was short. I was afraid he would leave the planet." Lord Soren cleared his throat. "I have failed."
"No." Arland shook his head. "You found him."
"Five men." Lord Soren's voice shook. "Five good men."
"It's in the past. You must rest, Uncle. We'll need you. We'll need your strength."
Lord Soren lunged forward and gripped his nephew's arm. "Don't go after him alone. Promise me."
"You have my word." Arland touched the metal disk and gently lowered Lord Soren back onto the table. The big man sighed and closed his eyes. His breathing evened out.
Arland turned to me. "Thank you for your hospitality. I'm afraid I must impose further. I wish to rent a room for myself and my uncle."
Now was my chance to squeeze some information. "You and your uncle pose a significant threat to my guests. I will gladly rent you a room, but I must ask for explanations."
"You're asking me to disclose the confidential business of my House. I can't do that."
"Then I can't rent a room to you."
Arland stared at me. His eyes perfectly matched the flowers from the floor --the same deep, intense blue.
"My lady, you leave me no choice."
"You have a choice," Sean said. "You can walk out of here."
Beast barked once.
Arland raised his eyebrows. "A Shih-Tzu-Chi. What a delightful animal. My sister had one."
He took a step toward her, his hand raised. Beast bared her teeth at him and growled low. Arland decided that lowering his hand was an excellent idea.
"I have to insist on disclosure," I said.
Arland turned to me. "I ask for sanctuary."
The inn creaked around me, waiting. It was an ancient request. It meant a guest was in imminent danger. To turn him down now would be to fly in the face of everything innkeepers stood for. He'd outmaneuvered me.
I raised my head. "Sanctuary granted."
Magic rolled through the inn.
"What does that mean?" Sean asked. "So, what, he can stay here and he doesn't have to tell us what's going on?"
"Yes."
"To hell with that."