“Yes, that one is a man who understands patience, as you have never done.”
“It’s in my nature.” Venom shrugged, and Jason knew he referred to the impulses that had been seeded in him by the Queen of Snakes, of Poisons.
A faint smile curved Neha’s lips, the calculated gleam of her earlier question replaced by amused affection. “When does that barbarian weapons master expect you?”
“I am early. If I may beg your indulgence, I would stay and talk with friends I have not seen for many a year.”
Neha’s eyes shifted in that quicksilver way, now brown, now a jagged, slitted green, the speed such that Jason could almost believe he’d imagined it. “So, Raphael thinks to plant a second spy in my court?”
“You insult Jason, my lady.” Disarming charm. “I would be a great thumping elephant to his sleek cobra.”
An exasperated shake of Neha’s head, the archangel appearing more indulgent than Jason had seen her with anyone but Eris and Anoushka. “Stay, play your games, but, Venom? Do not forget who I am.”
Venom bowed over her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles. “My lady, never will I forget who you are—you did not Make a fool.”
* * *
Later, when Venom and Jason walked up onto the wall above one of the magnificent fort gates, Jason saw the vampire sigh as he looked out over the city below, the homes hugging the earth for the most part, but even the smallest with a door painted in a bright shade, or shutters of red, a roof of blue. “You miss this place.”
“At times,” Venom said, his hair lifting in the breeze that tugged at Jason’s queue. “This land is where I was born, this fort where I was Made. It’ll always have a claim on my heart, though it is Raphael who has a claim on my loyalty.”
Jason thought of the palm-edged sands of the Pacific, of the remote island that was his own, where he went when he wanted to disappear from the world. Though it wasn’t the place where he’d been born, it was close enough that it made his heart ache. “I understand.”
“Raphael thought you might appreciate a familiar face, someone you can trust to watch your back.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, thinking of a woman who lived in a fort surrounded by hundreds of others, but who was and had always been alone, without anyone of her own.
Even he had memories of love to keep him going. Mahiya had nothing. And still she had hope in her heart, the capacity for tenderness of the soul. Strong, she was so strong, stronger than him, for where he’d had to shut down to survive, she’d managed to do so intact.
“So,” Venom said, “tell me what has happened—I won’t betray your vow, and Raphael won’t expect it of me.”
Jason had never believed otherwise. “There is something wrong here.” He told Venom of the triple murders, of the details that didn’t quite fit. “You still know many people in this court intimately.” Friends the vampire had stayed in touch with, some out of true affection, others because they were useful—Venom could be coldly practical beneath his charm. “Find the connection if you can.”
The murders bore too familiar an emotional fingerprint to be the work of disparate entities, and yet Neha had no need or apparent motive to murder her lady-in-waiting in such a violent fashion. Regardless of all else, he simply could not see her breaking her vigil beside Eris’s body in order to commit the act, not when those were the final hours she’d ever spend with him.
Venom gave a thoughtful nod, sliding his mirrored shades back over his eyes. “I’ll do everything I can, but I’ll have to leave in three days at the most. Neha will not give me her indulgence beyond that.”
“You’re a better judge of her mood than I—go when you need to.” Getting Venom’s nod, he asked the vampire a question that had nothing to do with his task at the fort. “How is Sorrow?” The girl had survived an attack from a mad archangel, come out of it infected by a toxin that had changed her from mortal to something other, her abilities erratic.
Venom’s jaw went taut, tendons pushing against the skin of his neck. “Janvier has taken over her vampiric training for the time being,” he said, referring to the vampire who had worked directly under Dmitri on any number of operations and whose loyalty to the Tower was unquestioned—though until now, it had been more useful to have him out in the world as an apparent free agent.
“You know how good Janvier is,” Venom added, “but I’ll have to return periodically to do the speed dances with her.”
Venom could move with snake quickness, a skill Sorrow shared, though hers came from a different source. “Can she call it up on command?”
“No. And if she doesn’t learn to do that, she’ll die.” Unforgiving words. “But Honor’s right—she needs to get the basics down first before I start pushing her again, or she’ll make stupid mistakes speed alone can’t cure.”
“Who’s undertaking her physical training with Honor out of the city?”
“Ashwini.” Venom’s face thawed, his lips twitching a fraction. “You know what she did to Janvier the last time they met?”
“Honey was involved.” Jason had watched the hunter and the vampire spar since their first meeting, never quite understanding their relationship—they were adversaries one minute, determined to run each other to the ground, and allies the next. It was Janvier Ashwini had taken with her when she’d needed to work in Nazarach’s dangerous territory, and it was Janvier whose sapphire pendant the hunter wore around her neck. Yet, as far as he knew, they had never been bedmates.