Steel Victory

Chapter 4

“Just a visitor. You can check with your captain. He should still be in his bunk.” Ignoring the men, she looked over the edge of the deck down to Mikelos. “Ready to go?”

Mikelos gave a curt nod before pulling loose the rope knot tied to their little boat.

When Victory swung one leg over the railing, the man of poor dental hygiene grabbed Victory’s arm. “Not so fast, girl.”

She smiled again at the man holding her arm, this time flashing a bit of fang. He yelped and jumped back. “I’m quite fast, thank you,” she said before dropping down to the boat, landing with a small rock of the vessel. “Take that as you will, but my husband might be a bit insulted!”

Asaron appeared next to the men at the railing above her. He tossed his rucksack and both swords down to her, then pitched himself over the edge of the boat to dive headfirst into the water.

“See ya,” Victory said up to the gaping sailors. She shoved the boat from the side of the barge when Mikelos revved the engine.

One of the sailors above her drew a pistol from his belt and took aim. “Get down!” Victory dropped to the deck, and a bullet whizzed past her head.

More bullets hit the water around them. Good thing Asaron didn’t need to come up for air.

The small fishing boat drew away at top speed, such as it was. There were a few more shouts from the crew, but they weren’t being paid to keep vampires prisoner. Victory was not inclined to complain when the shots ceased. Water lapped at her fingers, and she raised her head.

“This isn’t good,” Mikelos said.

The boat listed to the side when Asaron hauled himself on board. “Hey, Mik,” Asaron said. “Thanks for the rescue.”

“You might have been better off in the water,” Mikelos said, still staring at the bottom of the boat.

Victory followed the line of his stare. A bullet had cracked the hull, allowing water to flow in.

The fishing boat limped to the nearest shore thanks to frantic bailing and a lot of luck.

Asaron might be safe, but they weren’t out of the water yet. It had been a long day already if Victory was making puns that terrible, even in the safety of her own head. When the hull scraped sand, Mikelos cut the engine and Asaron jumped out. Water soaked them all from the knees down at this point, so Victory sacrificed her boots to help her sire. Between the two of them, they dragged the boat onto shore.

Asaron collapsed back onto the sand, and Victory avoided the temptation to join him. “How are we doing on gas?” she said.

Mikelos was examining the bottom of the boat as water drained out. “Not the problem. We might have enough to get back home at this point, but the boat itself isn’t going to make the trip. It’s not a leak. Looks like the bullet found a weak spot and now we’ve got a long crack.”

“Where are we?” Asaron propped himself up on his elbows. “And I don’t suppose either of you knows what time it is? I lost track, being locked up the past two days.”

Studying the lay of the stars, Victory said, “Not long till sunrise. As for where we are, I’m with you.”

“Daywalker?” Asaron gave Mikelos an expectant look.

Mikelos shrugged. “We passed Limani while you two were playing around on the boat. I lost track once the sailors found me.” He turned in a slow circle. “Nothing looks familiar. I’d say we’re no less than five miles from home, but that’s too far to walk in the time we’ve got left.”

The small sandy shore led to dense trees in the full leaves of summer, but held no landmarks Victory recognized. Mikelos was right—they had no way to ensure they would make it back to Limani before the sun. She eyed the boat sitting lopsided on the beach. “We’re making camp here, then.”

“Camp?” Asaron rose, and it was her turn to be on the receiving end of expectant looks.

“You, Asaron, and what shelter?” Mikelos said.

Victory pulled off her wet boots and socks and padded across the sand in her bare feet. Placing a hand on the side of the boat, she said, “This.”

“And how to do you propose to manage that, daughter?”

Now he was just teasing. This was not the worst situation the two of them had been caught in with the rising sun. “Toria told me about the time your truck broke down last summer,” Victory said. “Stranding you guys in the middle of the Wasteland. The farmhouse.”

Now that had been luck. Victory had traveled her share of the edge of the Wasteland, the flat desolate plain that stretched from west of Limani across the bulk of the continent and permanent reminder of the Last War between the British and the Qin. Now the land was home to dust and scrub and lingering radiation, unable to support more than limited life. The burnt-out husk of an ancient farmhouse had saved Asaron’s life. Now this boat provided the same gift.

Asaron favored her with a proud smile. “Good thinking.”

Putting their strength to use, they dragged the boat toward the trees while Mikelos scouted out two full-sized tree trunks close enough together. It took all three of them to flip the boat and brace it against the trees.

While Asaron tied the arms of his coat around the boat’s cleats to create a curtain, he said, “I’m still amazed we came across that house when we did. Talk about a godsend.”

Victory stuffed brush around the cracks between the boat and the forest floor. Any extra cover would be useful, and it was a good thing the branches above them were dense. “I still can’t believe anyone used to live out there for you to find a house in the first place.”

“There used to be a lot more subsistence farmers in that area. Toria’s birth family was one of many.”

Victory swallowed back a snort. “Family. Right.” She hated to think what Toria’s life might have been like before she and Mikelos adopted her.

“Just because the elves said her father would become an abuser doesn’t mean it was set in stone,” Asaron said.

Victory shoved in a final handful of leaves. “Good luck you found her when you did.” Bandits had burned the farm and killed the parents, leaving the months-old baby to the elements. Not in any position to raise her himself, Asaron had brought the child to his progeny and her daywalker. Years later, they learned the elves had marked Toria for eventual “rescue” from her birth parents. Pure coincidence led Asaron to the site first. More memories of her last trip to the Wasteland swam to the surface of her mind. Dirt and rocks, strange animals, a desolation where nothing proper could grow or live. “Thinking of Toria growing up out there is terrifying.”

Mikelos wrapped his arms around Victory, drawing her head to his shoulder. She hugged him back, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

Asaron finished tying up a sheet of canvas he’d found stowed beneath one of the seats. Between it and the coat, they would be protected from direct sun. He stepped away from the boat, surveying their handiwork. “I suppose it will have to do,” he said.

Sire and progeny were both seasoned campaigners and had often traveled with humans or others immune to the sun’s rays. Both of them had been in worse spots, with much less time to cobble together a shelter. This ranked right up with a luxury hotel. “Guess there’s not much else we can do,” she said.

Asaron looked over the river to the east. The stars had faded as the sky transitioned from black toward midnight blue. Dawn approached. “Guess not.” She heard a hitch in his voice.

Liar. Asaron never could hide anything from her. “Hey,” Victory said. She disentangled herself from Mikelos’ arms and approached her sire, placing a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?” Centuries ago, a client had nicknamed them Sun and Moon. Considering his fiery red hair in comparison with her darker locks, and the way he towered a foot over her, she had not been inclined to disagree.

Asaron captured her hand and gripped it tight, tracing her fingers with his thumb. “I was locked in that cabin after we left port in New Carthage.”

“That’s what, a three-day ride?” Mikelos said.

“Closer to four, with all the stops.” Asaron gazed over Victory’s head. She glanced over her shoulder and realized he was giving her daywalker a hungry stare.

Realization dawned. “Four days, with no food?”

“Three days, after they locked me up and took everything I had bottled,” he said. “Bottles were gone when I grabbed my stuff after you broke me out. I’ll have to get Toria to charm me more when we get home.”

No wonder Mikelos looked like the evening special. But this was an old conversation. Mikelos belonged to her. Sire or not, vampires did not share daywalkers. She squeezed his hand. “Will you be okay?”

“Yes,” Asaron said. “Been through worse.” His eyes turned back to the imminent sunrise.

So had she, though it was never fun. But if Asaron thought he could handle it, Victory wouldn’t argue. “C’mon, let’s get settled.”

He nodded once, dragging his eyes away from the sky and ducking under the canvas. Before she could follow, Mikelos grabbed her again. Always a tug of war in this threesome. “Yes, love?”

“I can’t sleep under there with you,” Mikelos said. “Not while he’s like that.”

“I know,” she said. Not just a tug of war, but a never-ending process of soothing male egos. A hundred years later, it still wasn’t any easier. Pulling Mikelos behind her, she followed Asaron under the boat and settled herself into a corner. “Okay,” she said. Asaron had stolen the prime spot, lounging against one of the trees next to his belongings. She would have to be content with hunching over for this conversation. “Now for the real story. What the hell was that little escapade about?” Mikelos lay on his stomach, stretching his legs out of the covered area into the open air.

“Did I tell you how much I appreciate this, daughter?” He tried to appear innocent. It failed, since his face was only about three feet from hers.

She met his look full on, aware of how unsettling an intent look from her could be. Mikelos could meet a vampire’s eyes, but Asaron didn’t live with a companion who stared him down on a regular basis. No escape behind coyness this time. Not after dragging her who-knew-how-far away from the city on what was supposed to be a normal evening. “Don’t even try to pull that. I want to know why I just risked our lives to save your sorry old ass. Why the sudden trip home?”

“Have some respect, girl. This sorry old ass can still whip yours. But I do appreciate the timing.”

“So talk, then,” Mikelos said. “Why were you in the Roman colonies to begin with? Max said the Guild contract was sealed and wouldn’t give us any details. Then you disappeared last month, and we didn’t hear from you until Toria told us we needed to meet you at the customs house tonight.”

“I should have taken the train instead of setting foot on that boat. But as for why—” Asaron pulled the second sword out from under the pack next to him and laid it in front of Victory.

She unwrapped the cotton to reveal the hilt. “Toria’s rapier! I was wondering where it went.”

“She also didn’t tell you that it broke.” He held up a hand before she could demand explanations. “It’s all better now. She asked me to get it fixed for her, and that’s what I did. I’m friends with a good smith down in the Grand Strand, so I figured that was the best place to take it.”

“But why wouldn’t she tell me?”

“She didn’t want you to be mad that she’d broken Jarimis’ sword.” Asaron took the blade back and rewrapped it. “I was actually about to head west to look into some deaths when I got quite the panicked message from her. Something to do with science and alloys.” The elder vampire made a face.

Victory could commiserate. Like her sire, she’d never understood her daughter’s fascination with the modern.

Asaron continued, “So since I wasn’t the only one looking into that case, I promised Toria I’d get it fixed. Then it showed up in my hotel room in two pieces. I figured magic had to be involved somewhere at that point.”

“But why would she think that I’d be angry at her?” Victory said.

“My fault,” Mikelos said. “I flipped out once when she let a friend play Connor’s cello. She is terrified of hurting the relics from those that we loved. And Jarimis was your progeny.”

A guarded look crossed Asaron’s face. “I would have been gone longer, but there’s been news from the south. Bad news.”

“Is there any other kind?” Victory said. “Let me guess: something about the secession of the new Emperor?”

“Politics.” Mikelos snorted. “Romans are crazy. I grew up in the capital, and I still don’t understand them.”

“Things have changed, but not that much. Since the Emperor didn’t have a son himself, the heir was chosen from his nephews,” Asaron said. “And who the senators approved wouldn’t have been my first choice.”

Her sire paid more attention to global politics than she did these days, since he still made his living off warring factions. “Why?” Who wasn’t important, Victory knew, but rather the motives behind the choice.

“Humans are beginning to forget about the war that created the Wasteland,” Asaron said. “The Romans weren’t involved, and the Senate in Roma wasn’t directly affected by the results. The imperialist faction won.”

“So?” Mikelos said. “That’s always been the case on the continent. The colonies have spread as much as they can. The southern Wasteland is even more uninhabitable than ours.”

Asaron shook his head. “There’s still north.”

Victory froze. “But north is Limani.”

“And that is where the Roman Army is currently marching.”

Sun broke over the horizon. This was not the sort of news Victory needed when she wasn’t safe at home. Asaron would have to meet with the city council to share this information, and they’d need to start coordinating with Max Asher, head of the local branch of the Mercenary Guild. Mikelos squeezed her hand, and Victory realized she’d frozen in thought.

“Is the army going to get here today?” Mikelos said. Asaron shook his head. “Then both of you sleep, and we’ll raise the alarm tonight.”

Mikelos might be Victory’s best friend and lover, but daytime guardian was the daywalker’s original job description. She handed him her sword and he ducked out of the shelter to settle against another nearby tree.

She curled up next to Asaron, entwining her fingers with his. Asaron completed her family, and with them, Limani could stand up to anything.