A Shade of Vampire 79 A Game of Death - Bella Forrest Page 0,45

of him. Assuming, of course, that the Red Threads and the Darklings are cooperating, somehow.”

“Well, the Red Threads are definitely interested in us. We’re getting closer,” Kalon replied, blinking slowly as he leaned against the window frame.

I looked at the Nalorean woman, adrenaline still rushing through me. “You can’t tell anyone about this,” I said to her.

Kalon fumbled through his pockets and threw her a couple of gold coins, which she caught in her hands, still speechless and stunned by this clearly unexpected development. The woman was probably getting ready for a nice cup of afternoon tea and a good book. “Here, take these for your broken window,” Kalon said. “I’ll be getting a nice little prize from Trev’s victory tomorrow, anyway. I think I still have my winning flyer…”

He patted himself down, his words slurring. There was something wrong with him.

“Kalon, are you okay?” I asked, measuring him from head to toe.

“I don’t think so.” He sighed, his shoulders dropping.

“Oh, dear…” the Nalorean woman managed, pointing somewhere behind him. I followed her gaze and took a couple of steps to the side. A dart was lodged just under his shoulder blade. The poison was already spreading through him , hence the increasing sluggishness. He’d been hit somewhere along the way.

I gripped his shoulders, shaking him so he would look at me. “You said the dart wouldn’t kill us, right?” I asked, and he nodded slowly. “What will it do, though? If we’re hit?”

“It’s slow acting… for Aeternae… but… put… to sleep…”

A second later, Kalon was flat on his face, snoring like he hadn’t slept in centuries. I was baffled and genuinely alarmed. I had an unconscious Aeternae, an unconscious Rimian, and a barely conscious Nalorean woman who couldn’t understand what was happening or what we were all doing here.

We did have a member of the Red Thread faction in our possession, though, and I knew they were using a similar identification method as the Darklings, with the red leather strips. I also knew they wanted us silenced, so I had to find us a way out of here, and fast. The Red Threads might’ve left, but the Darklings were bound to show up soon.

If evil Rimians couldn’t take us, evil Aeternae definitely could.

“I need some rope for the Rimian and a cold bath for Lord Visentis,” I said to the Nalorean woman after a few minutes of feverish thinking and planning.

She stared at me as if I’d just insulted her mother. “Excuse me?”

“Did I not make myself clear?” I replied, raising my voice. “Rope. Cold water. Help. Now!”

I startled her, but it worked. She rushed down the stairs and came back minutes later with a handful of twine. She was panting, but I had her on my side, judging by the curious look in her eyes, as she watched me tie the Rimian’s hands behind his back.

“Thank you,” I said. “Now, the bathroom?”

The Nalorean woman pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “Down the hall, here.”

“Help me get Lord Visentis in there,” I replied.

I had my hands full, to say the least. I needed Kalon up and running, ideally before the Rimian came to. For good measure, I ripped a piece of the Rimian’s cloak and used it as a gag, to keep him quiet in case he woke up. I’d clocked him good, though.

Whatever this hot mess was, I was all the more determined to untangle it and get to the truth. Someone didn’t want me investigating the Darklings and the Red Threads, and that was exactly what I was going to do. First, however, I’d have to bring Kalon back into the realm of consciousness.

Tristan

We arrived in the far south of the city, where the Makios dynasty was known to live. One of the more fortunate families, they counted six to ten siblings per marriage, and they occupied an entire neighborhood in this area.

The alley was flanked by blue brick homes with three levels and whitewashed windows. The doors were white, with brass knockers, and there were flowers at every entrance and sill. “It’s a common theme for the Makios,” Valaine said. “The dark blue and white. They’re seafarers, most of them. Sailors. Matching their colors to the sea and its foamy waves.”

“Do you know Egan’s wife?” I asked, as we made our way up the steps to his house.

Two gold guards had come with us, and they stayed in the middle of the street. The sun was setting through the reddish haze, a giant crimson blotch spreading