The jubilee was a tangled mix of wights, vampires, and other oddities, but I hardly gave them a thought when I spotted Hull. My friend noticed me at nearly the same time, and without needing a shouted word or coordinating gesture, we made a hurried beeline through the press of people to reach one another. I used my shoulder to forge the sea of pasty flesh, and at one point I thought I heard Emerus demanding that someone empty their Mind Home, but I never considered slowing to see.
"You really are alive," Hull said when we met. He grabbed me close, hugging me.
"As are you," I replied as he squeezed, his grip seeming weaker to me than usual. When we parted, my eyes snapped to the intricate box at his waist. "And you have the vault key." Retrieving it had arguably been the most challenging part of my plan and yet here it was, close enough I could touch.
Emerus lumbered up beside us. "Show him your –"
"I've already seen his deck," I said, cutting the Soul off. I still hadn't gotten the lich to speak of anything else and the failure was starting to grate at me.
Hull eyed the Legendary up and down. "You start cultivating Death while sharing quarters with Felstrife?"
"Hardly. He's her watchdog, but never mind that. How in the Twins did you manage to get the key?"
"Mother gave it to me," Hull said, tapping the box with a finger. "Handed it over without so much as a fuss, in fact."
I considered that unexpected turn of events, taking into account what little I knew of her. She was conniving and self-centered, but she had also managed to kill our King, a living Legendary. She was no fool. "She must have been unable to open it. That or she already plundered it of everything worth having."
Hull gave me a crooked smile. "Glad to see that you're still thinking clear, even if you are wearing the world's worst hat. She told me she couldn't open it."
Only then did I notice my friend's sunken cheeks and the deep lines under his eyes. He looked nearly as sickly as the Undead all around us. It was probably just a passing weakness, so I didn't bother commenting on it. If my friend was in some sort of danger, he'd speak up – Hull was never one to hold something back.
Stepping closer to him, I dropped my voice. "Have you confirmed that? Gone inside?" The space the key led into was surprisingly large, but a few moments within should have revealed if it was stripped or not.
Hull shook his head, which was problematic. "Haven't had the chance. The Queen said my mother wouldn't get in, but she didn't say how I could or if I could."
So, the Queen was alive and Hull had spoken with her. I looked side-to-side, not bothering to hide what I was doing. We were getting some attention from those who milled around us, but nothing that struck me as out of the ordinary. Still, it's not as if we could open the vault in the middle of the party, assuming we could figure out how. We would need to locate an out of the way area. And what was I to do with Emerus during such a foray? Surely the Legendary wouldn't stay silent about a room full of priceless treasures, not to a master who loved her artifacts.
Yet another layer of frustration settled on me like a shroud. It was a boon to have the key, of that there was no doubt, but my plan had been to retrieve Esmi's card, then her body, and then finally enter the vault. The spacing of the items was meant to give me time to determine how best to proceed with each, and one jumping the line was causing me to hesitate, something I could ill afford.
"Met your father, too," Hull said offhandedly. "The man has being a prickly ass down to an art but there's no denying he's worried about you."
I registered that my father was also alive, but little else of what Hull was saying, my thoughts stuck on how best to handle the current situation. "And the rest of my family?" the barest part of me said, practically by rote.
"Your brother Gale is running messages. Don't know about anyone else, I'm afraid."
Something deep inside of me shuddered hearing that, but I clamped down on the sensation, forcing it still. I didn't have time to be worried about people I couldn't do anything for. They would have to take care of themselves.
Hull was frowning at me now. "You alright under that big cap of yours? I thought hearing some of that would make you happy."
A nudge in my side caught me unawares, and I turned to see my Master Shieldbearer pointing with a gauntleted hand. There, halfway across the room a vampire was holding a gold-edged card. No, not just any card, Esmi's card.
I moved without thinking, forcibly shoving aside any guests who got in my way. Over the shoulders of the people between us, I watched as the slim vampire traded Mythics with a large, white-haired leonid. I didn't see what the cards were, but they could have been Legendaries for all I cared. The only thing that mattered to me was Esmi's card, which hung loosely in the vampire's off hand.
The exchange was finished by the time I reached them, the vampire tucking his new Mythic behind his ear while the leonid did the same, both watching the other as they did. There was no mistaking the tense air hanging between them, but even if the pair had been fighting to the death I wouldn't have hesitated to approach.
"I would like to purchase that Rare from you," I informed the slim vampire.
"Go yip elsewhere," the leonid said, not breaking eye contact with his bartering partner. "We are in the middle of –"
"I was not speaking to you."
The leonid turned with a snarl. "You dare? I will shred you to bloody ribbons and feast on the spoolings."
Before the leonid could get his claws into me, both my Bodyguard and the tall lich intercepted him, pushing him back.
I lifted my wrist carrier, not bothering to watch the scuffle. "I have a number of cards available for trade, some from Order, Air, and even Life if you are interested." Many of these cards were dear to me, Atrea especially, but for Esmi there would be no cost too high.
The slim vampire looked between me and the raging leonid, raising an eyebrow that looked just as manicured as any court lady I had interacted with. That's when I noticed the overlarge vampire hovering protectively over the dandy's shoulder. He gave me an amused smirk when our eyes met. Clumsy of me not to have spotted Esmi's killer sooner, but it wouldn't have changed anything about my actions thus far.
"I take it," the slim vampire said, "that you are the interested buyer I've heard of. Basil, is it?"
Hearing my name on his lips was unexpected but not impossible; there were a number of ways the creature could have come across that information. "That's right," I replied, fishing out one of my unused cards.
"Perhaps this Spell might appeal to you. It's quite useful should you ever decide to cultivate Order." I normally tried to make such offerings sound appealing when making a trade, but for some reason my voice remained perfectly flat. Well, they were Undead. Surely they wouldn't care much about one's tone.
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He sniffed. "I cultivate all Sources, but I have no interest in such a paltry thing. What sort of Mythics and Legendaries do you have?"
All Sources? A seemingly impossible feat, yet far more disturbing was his asking price, and I wasn't about to tell him that I had none. "I'd be willing to trade you two Rares," I said, slowly tucking Equality away, "perhaps even with an Uncommon thrown in, but surely you can't be expecting more than that for a Rare?"
He took a sip of his wine, which was as red as his suit. "I expected nothing. It was you who approached me, and I have no desire to keep cards that have no worth to me."
"What about this card?" Hull said from my side. He had arrived shortly after me but had stayed silent until now. "Surely you'd like her back?" The card he flashed was garnet-boarded and one I'd never seen before.
Those plucked eyebrows narrowed over the living vampire's slim nose. "That is not Beliss. It is merely her castoff."
"Still," the larger vampire said, leaning close. "That is quite the ability the card possesses." He angled his head to the side, indicating that Hull should follow. My friend shot me a questioning look, but I waved him off, leaving me alone with the fashionable vampire – or as alone as we could be at such a gathering, partygoers giving us space but only a foot or two. Where the leonid went I didn't know or care.
"It seems we shall not come to an accord regarding a trade."
"It seems not," the vampire agreed with me, moving to place the card in a belt box at his side; he didn't even plan on using her. I wanted to rip Esmi from his hands but such a move would be the height of foolishness standing as I was in a room full of his people.
"Then let us speak on what you already owe me." He stopped what he was doing, eyeing me again. "I provided your colleague with information concerning Hull's whereabouts, which I believe was of considerable importance to you."
"My colleague," he tittered. "Oh, I'll have to use that. Stafford will have a stich for days."
Stafford, so that was the name of Esmi's killer. The letters carved themselves into my mind while my mouth stuck to the task at hand. "Surely you agree that deserves some recompense?"
The vampire sobered. "It was unnecessary information. The rough-mouthed boy found his way here on his own. "
"Not so," I countered. "He would never have come to the Palace if not for me. You can ask him yourself if you don't believe my word on it."
The vampire begrudgingly considered me, and I didn't say another word, sensing the scales tipping my way. "Why do you desire her so badly?"
I felt my left eye twitch. "Why do you care?"
"Let us say that I've grown fond of her and want to make sure that she is going to a proper home." He gave me a thin lipped smile and began tugging at his frilled sleeves.
Not for a moment did I believe that the vampire cared about his Souls, particularly not a human one. What was he playing at?
"I'm waiting," he informed me, glancing up from his preening.
Unsure of his game, I decided to answer simply. "She is my fiancée."
He made a noncommittal moue. "A few words spoken – perhaps meant, perhaps regretted. Not a particularly compelling reason. If you love her, tell me why." So saying, he leaned against a nearby pillar, like he expected me to begin a poetry recitation.
Why I loved her? Since Esmi's death, I had rarely let myself delve too deeply into such thoughts, lest I lose myself in utter despair that she was gone. And this vampire expected me to casually reach into my heart of hearts and pluck those feelings out for him to view?
"Perhaps this will help," the vampire said, tucking Esmi back behind his ear and summoning a swirl of Source – he did indeed have a multitude of types, maybe even more than that juggler my family had hired back before this madness had all begun. He then pulled a hand of cards from the air, sorting through them, before nonchalantly summoning one.
The shimmering motes coalesced into a face and form I knew as well as my own. My every fiber was drawn to her, wanting to hold her, smell her, speak with her, and yet a discordant note rang through me as I looked upon her: a card overlaying itself with her in the double-vision my Seersight created.
I blinked, feeling like I was being stabbed in the eye by a hot poker. My rational mind knew this was to be expected, but the rest of me railed against it. This was how I saw cards, not her, not Esmi.
"Basil?" she said, and the hope in her voice nearly killed me.
"Queit now," the vampire told her. "I want to hear it from him."
My breathing was shallow, and I closed my eyes, unable to handle her presence or the sight of him commanding her. Seeing her should have been the happiest moment of my life since she had died, yet all I felt was a swell of white-hot rage. She didn't even have a name.
"You want to know the depth of my feelings?" I whispered, my guts churning with a burning pulse that quickened with each word. "I want to rip Stafford's face off with my bare fingers, bit by bit, feeling the flesh break under my nails. I want to destroy everything, anything that might get in my way, and anyone who hurt her, who even thought of hurting her. Until my body fails, until I have no breath left in it, I want to choke the life from the world like it was choked from me the moment I knew that she was gone, that she was no longer with me. And it will never be enough, not until I have her back." I was shaking, and I think at some point I might have been yelling. Opening my eyes required more effort than it should have, and I discovered that Stafford and Hull had returned.
My friend was looking at me like I wasn't the man he remembered, and I suppose I wasn't anymore. As for Esmi – despite hating it and cursing my Seersight – my eyes couldn't help but flick her way, and the sorrow in her too real face stabbed into me.
"That…" the slim vampire ventured, "was not the bearing of the heart that I was expecting." He made a noise, somewhat disgusted, and snapped his fingers, causing Esmi to vanish. It was like I had been slapped in the face, and I almost leapt on him like the leonid had tried to do to me.
"That is precisely what I would say if you were taken from me."
I blinked the rage away, finding the speaker to be none other than Stafford. He seemed completely unconcerned about my desire to maul him. Instead, a single tear of what appeared to be blood tracked down his face.
"From you it would be delightful, I'm sure," the smaller vampire said, turning to touch Stafford fondly. He waved in my direction, "Not whatever that was."
Stafford smiled, kissing the other vampire. "My love, you do not give him enough credit. He is pain incarnate. The fact he can manage to string a sentence together and isn't using the cards he possesses to attack us on sight is impressive enough."
I loathed that it was Esmi's killer supporting me but I managed to keep my tongue still, not trusting myself to say another word. Hull put a hand on my shoulder to reassure me; the last thing I wanted was to be touched, but I didn't bother to shrug the gesture off, waiting to see if violence would indeed be needed.
"Besides, Alexi," the hulking vampire continued, "have you ever seen one of Felstrife's experiments allowed to wander without her? Yet somehow, this little human snuck out and came here, of all places."
"I told her it would help me level," I managed to say.
The big vampire chortled and then nuzzled into the one he had called Alexi's neck. "Remember when I snuck away from the battle of Haldrum to surprise you at home?" he said, nibbling at the smaller vampire's ear. "You said it was the most heartfelt thing anyone had done for you."
"That's because you had a five course meal waiting for me, made from the blood of a living Mythic," Alexi groused, looking uncompelled despite the other's badgering.
"Well, our reciter says he's here because of him."
"It's true," Hull confirmed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his fingers twitch, like he was waiting for me to say draw and start a fight. I might be a twisted shadow of myself, but I felt gratitude toward my friend keenly in that brief moment.
Alexi's lips thinned, and Twins be praised, he pulled a card from behind his ear. He started to hold it out toward me but stopped halfway, causing my breath to catch. "What my love says may be true, but she did just as much to convince me. If I find out that her loyalties were misplaced, you won't be keeping her long."
The card finally landed in my hand, and it was light as a feather. My fingers snapped together, holding it just as closely as Hull had when we first met.
"You're such a hopeless romantic," Alexi told Stafford, finally softening as he looked up at him.
"Only because you've made me so," Stafford replied with just as wide a grin. "And you get so protective about your Souls. It's utterly adorable."
The vampires were kissing with passion when I left them in a daze, hardly knowing what to think.
"You did it," Hull said at my side. "Twins twist me, you did it."
I was feeling many things but not the bubbling excitement my friend was. I hadn't won yet; success wouldn't be mine until she was alive again.
I was so focused on making my way to the door, I didn't notice the man who stepped into our path until my Bodyguard pulled me to a stop. When I did, I quickly recognized him as the one I had encountered before during my first day with Felstrife, the Epic who styled himself a necromancer lord – Rathamon, his lesser had called him.
"I believe this," he said, holding up a card between his stick-thin fingers, "belongs to you."
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