Immortals After Dark 05 - Dark Needs at Nights Edge

bloody Russian. What do you want?”
    “I’d known the Wroths were genetically incapable of fawning to a king, but a modicum of respect... ”
    Conrad faced the natural-born vampire, surrounded by his king’s guard.
    “You’ve taken out my entire castle guard. Something a Horde battalion couldn’t do. They didn’t tell me you were this strong,” Kristoff said in a casual tone. His pale eyes were expressionless, but he was calculating. Conrad could sense it—and he believed he knew what Kristoff wanted.
    “But then, you’ve been blooded.”
    “I don’t have time for this!” Conrad snapped. “I’ll kill you just to keep you from speaking.”
    His guards tensed, hands at their sword hilts. “Kill me? You wouldn’t know your Bride if not for me, if not for your brothers. You’d have been dead three hundred years ago.”
    “I’ve put that together!”
    To Nikolai, Kristoff said, “He took out the guards without killing a single one—almost as if he was making a point. You were right. Conrad isn’t lost. He’s... quite a few things, but he’s not irredeemable. And I can concede when I made a mistake. Though you should have come to me instead of willfully breaking our laws.”
    Nikolai shrugged. “I couldn’t take the risk that you would say no. He’s my brother,” he said, as if that explained everything.
    Kristoff turned back to Conrad. “Swear fealty to me, and all of you leave today as allies. Otherwise we fight.”
    There wasn’t any time left to fight. “I’ll vow... that I’ll never engage you or your army.”
    Kristoff studied him, then said, “It will do for now.” To the brothers, he added, “Take a week off. And do get your Brides to cease plotting my downfall.”
    When the king and his men disappeared, Nikolai said, “Conrad, you must tell me what’s happened for me to help you. Who is your Bride?”
    Conrad hastily said, “Néomi, this beautiful little dancer. Love her. So much it pains me. Have to find her.”
    “Why do you think you need to go to a cemetery to find her?”
    “She was a ghost, the one I told you about. But no longer. She died again tonight and might have been resurrected—or embodied, fuck if I know the difference—but the witch, the werewolf, and I lost her body. One of the bodies. Or else I just can’t find it. I’m going to go to every goddamned cemetery in the city and listen for her heartbeat.”
    Sebastian raised his brows and said, “The ghost thing again,” just as Murdoch muttered, “Con’s thoroughly lost it.”
    Conrad snapped his teeth at them. “This happened!”
    “I don’t know what outcome I’m hoping for,” Sebastian said. “Conrad’s either irretrievably mad, or his Bride is a spirit from beyond whose corpse is lost. This seems like a lose-lose.”
    “He always did things differently,” Murdoch said, daring to slap Conrad on the back. “I would like to stay, but I have an emergency that’s weeks overdue. Good luck, Con.” He traced away.
    “Nikolai, do you have this one?” Sebastian asked. “I need to make sure the Valkyrie stand down.”
    Conrad turned to Nikolai, struggling to calm his tone. He wanted to punch his fist into the wall with frustration, to howl to the ceiling with anguish. His little Bride was in the dark... was she frightened? He stifled a shudder.
    To get to Néomi, he had to convince them that he hadn’t lost his mind. “Know this sounds crazy. But I am... I am asking you to believe me in this. Just... just take me to the cemeteries.”
    Sebastian said, “I don’t think he’s ever asked for anything.”
    Conrad grasped his forehead. “Nikolai, please, she’s going to be”—his hoarse voice broke with emotion—“she’ll be... afraid.”
    Nikolai finally said, “Go, Sebastian. Tell Myst I’ll return after this.”
    When Sebastian traced away, Conrad said, “You believe me?”
    “I... don’t.” Nikolai ran his hand over the back of his neck. “I don’t know if I can accept everything you said.”
    “Then why?”
    “For whatever reason, you need this badly, and you came to me for it.” Nikolai cast him a stern look. “Because I’m still your goddamned brother.”

42

    St. Louis Cemetery #1,
New Orleans

    In the third cemetery they traveled to, the tombs had seen better days. Many were storm-damaged, with crumbling stucco and rusted iron fences. Markings were eroded.
    Spates of rain were sporadic; it was well after midnight. And still this haphazard maze of tombs was