Chapter 33: The Envoy - The Night Market

High in the bone-white crown of Leroux Tower, behind stone and reinforced glass, beneath chandeliers that shimmered like dawn frost, the Cavendish Family prepared to receive their guests.

The meeting chamber was an old tradition, redesigned in modern dress: arched ceilings, columned shadows, the floor polished until it bore the room’s reflection more clearly than memory. While its name might have elicited discussion, its true purpose was to entertain negotiation. Enforcers lined the edges – suited, sharp-eyed, armed beneath dark jackets. Their presence wasn’t for show.

Pepper stood just off the central stairwell that curled upward to the main balcony, her back half turned to the cavernous room and the gathering below. The marble banister beside her was cold beneath her fingertips, a static kind of cold that didn’t thaw with time. Swan stood a pace to her right, his coat draped unevenly over his good shoulder, the other arm still tucked in a sling. The wound had paled his face, but not softened it. He had returned to his duties the moment he was given the all-clear by medical. A Cavendish didn’t take kindly to showing pain.

‘Feels weird, don’t it? Like waiting for someone to throw a match before everything burns. Oddly calm,’ he stated, voice hushed.

Pepper didn’t answer immediately. She was watching Mortis on the balcony above, rigid beside Concetta, both of them exchanging words. Then her gaze drifted across the Enforcers among them. A wall of white collars and cold stares, they weren’t here to talk. They were here to measure.

‘Nothing calm about it,’ she said finally. ‘Everyone’s pretending not to notice how close we are to snapping. There’s a difference between expecting carnage and wanting to start it . . .’

Canis Cavendish, ever composed, drifted between them like the host of an evening soiree rather than a war council. A tulip-shaped glass of red wine caught the low light, swirling lazily in his fingers. Despite appearances of aloofness, his mood was unreadable. He approached upon noticing them.

‘Ah, good evening. How are you both?’ he asked.

Swan stood tall despite the bruise across the temple, straw-toned hair slicked back.

‘Just a bang on the head, sir,’ Swan said. ‘I’m embarrassed that it was enough to take me out of action. I think . . . if that wasn’t the case, things would have transpired differently.’

Canis gave a small chuckle, just a shade above a hum. ‘They transpired exactly as they were meant to. To my understanding, it was you who alerted the Family to the danger occurring. My sister’s survival is undoubtedly down to your actions. Has she thanked you, yet?’

Swan blinked. ‘Uh . . . no, sir.’

‘Then I will offer my manners where hers are either lacking . . . or simply misplaced. Thank you for your sterling efforts.’

‘Happy to serve, sir.’

Canis turned now, his gaze catching the woman beside him. Pepper stood with her arms loosely crossed.

‘And you,’ Canis said, voice dipping into dry amusement. ‘I’m starting to wonder if trouble follows you or if you chase it.’

‘It very much finds me,’ Pepper said. ‘But I do also tend to walk away from it. A couple of aches and a sore arm. I’ll live.’

Canis studied her over the rim of his glass, then sipped. ‘I imagine that’s what the reaper thinks, right before he changes its mind.’

‘Has any decision been reached about Horus? He can’t go unpunished for this,’ Swan asked.

‘That,’ Canis said, gesturing lazily toward the upper tier where Concetta and Mortis stood staring out at the sea of city lights, ‘is for people more prestigious than you or me to decide.’

‘I’ve never known you so quiet. What’s on your mind?’ Concetta asked the man at her side. Her dress of white satin layers was cut at the knee, with a cape desperately clinging on to the shoulders that was so thin it was nearing transparency. When she moved it always seemed a second behind.

‘Do I need to be troubled to be silent in your presence?’ He leaned his weight on his forearms across the banister.

‘No.’ She tapped her pale nails against a rail. ‘But it’s obvious that something is weighing on you.’

Mortis’s voice was soaked with a sip of scotch from a crystal tumbler. ‘I’m just remembering when the world was smaller. Just you and me, in a town not worth remembering. Before this tower became a fortress. Before whispers followed us into every room.’

‘They never were simpler,’ she determined, finger to her chin. ‘You just found them easier to swallow. You didn’t need to think then. You just acted.’

‘That’s true,’ Mortis murmured, breaking into a soft smile. ‘It’s easier when you’re the sword, not the hand that holds it. Everything’s just heavier these days. I don’t know how you do it.’

‘Experience, dear,’ she said. ‘Plenty of it, and a natural talent for getting matters to bend in my favour.’

An Enforcer dressed in a gunmetal grey suit made a bow on her arrival.

‘Lord and Lady Cavendish. He’s arrived.’

Mortis rolled his shoulders, straightened his back, took one last look at the skyline, and a mouthful of courage, setting the empty glass on the rail. He offered his arm.

‘Well, let’s see how much you can bend this one then, shall we?’

The doors opened.

Dominic Ode entered like an unwelcome king, walking too tall, too quickly not to seek a confrontation. He was flanked by twenty Enforcers, each marked by purple collars, silver-threaded cuffs, and eyes that were in the process of measuring every soul in the room. They fanned across like oil spreading on water, creating a clear divide between the two Families.

Concetta descended the stairs slowly, Mortis beside her. As they reached the bottom, those in the room subtly bent around them to provide space.

‘Dominic,’ she greeted, unhurried. ‘It’s a pleasure to see you once again.’

He didn’t smile.

‘No, it’s not. Far from it. This entire situation has been a balls-up from the get-go, and now you call me in an effort to play nice? I am only here so I can tell you, in person, to your faces, what I wish to say.’

‘Then by all means,’ Concetta replied. ‘Do speak freely.’

‘I demand you release Horus to me. Now.’ Dominic narrowed his eyes.

‘Out of the question,’ Mortis frowned.

Concetta lifted a hand for calm. ‘Mister Horus is in our custody on charges of attempted murder – of our Enforcers, of staff, and most damningly, of my daughter. Your man is not a guest. By his actions, he has made himself a prisoner.’

Dominic’s laugh was short, dry. ‘His version differs. According to my people, Horus checked in when he was pulled up alongside and attacked by your man Laik, who initiated a chase that only stopped when he lost control of his vehicle.’

‘And you believe that, do you?’ Mortis put to him.

‘I believe your household is long overdue for humility. I believe it’s not unreasonable to believe that a Cavendish Enforcer was out looking for trouble and mine happened to push back harder than he liked. You’ve always had trouble keeping them in check. Just the other week I got word that a place over the river was outright destroyed by Laik in particular. That’s our territory, isn’t it? Not exactly respecting the pacts, is it?’ Dominic looked between them both, brow scrunched together.

Swan, momentarily looking uncomfortable, returned a tip of the head to Canis.

Concetta’s eyes sharpened. ‘That’s terribly naive of you. Or problematic.’

‘I call it probable,’ Dominic said. ‘Is it an impossibility that after decades of the Cavendishes acting like unjust royalty, the egos within are out of control?’

By this point, Mortis was struggling to retain his composure. Nobody had ever dared be so outspoken before him for longer than he cared to remember. Previously, the fortunate ones were carried out after such an exchange. The unfortunate: mopped up.

‘Are you even listening to yourself? Word is, one of your Enforcers is openly courting war between the families for reasons of his own. Emboldening the unaffiliated to work against us. Operating under his own loose discretion. And you are not only willingly turning a blind eye, but attempting to put blame on us? With rumours like that circulating, what would you do in our place, Dominic? Lie down and wait for the next knife in the back? Yours, maybe?’ Mortis had folded his arms across his chest.

‘You mistake restraint for tolerance.’ Concetta ensured her words were not strained with frustration.

‘And you mistake power for entitlement. Where you see difficulty, we see opportunity.’ The words lingered, thick, unpleasant. ‘I like to reflect on Horus’s benefits rather than focus on his missteps. His experience is unmatched. His counsel, illuminating. These past few decades have revealed more than you’d like to admit. You know of our ventures in the energy sector, and the advantages they yield. But I suspect your real concern lies in the ground we’ve gained. It threatens you. For all your storied history, all your so-called victories . . . it’s taken just one of my men to rattle the Cavendish Family to its core. And what’s the consequence?’

He circled, looked at the spectators with his arms out, before finally locking eyes with Concetta.

‘You panic. You scramble for answers and, more urgently, solutions to a predicament that you yourselves have created. The Cavendishes have spent far too long under the impression that they are untouchable. So, please do tell me: how does it feel, Concetta?’ He glowered beneath his brow. ‘To finally be touched?’

Before Mortis could deliver an expletive-laden retort, an interruption came from one of the onlookers.

‘Crass, even by your standards,’ Canis fired, looking into his drink, pulling the room’s attention to him. ‘I don’t think your Family should be the one lecturing on standards when it comes to debauchery.’

‘The Playboy speaks! I was wondering when you were gonna shove your oar in,’ Dominic sneered.

‘Yes, as you well know, I’m familiar with matters of shoving my oar in.’ He flashed his eyes to a young man in his company, who immediately burned red. ‘An arranged marriage is simply one not yet partaken, so I am absolved of any guilt. Word was, you were simply going to buy another wife for the boy, but good luck having the dear reach the bar that I set. Tell me when the date is and I will send a fitting wedding gift. I believe a ladder would suffice?’

Lord Ode was not so restrained and instead stepped ahead with his fist drawn with every intention of knocking Canis to the ground. But the instant the arm went back, a bevy of firearms were yanked from their holsters, the space was filled with the snapping of buttons set in leather and the clicking of safety catches. Pepper momentarily recoiled, whereas Swan, even with his injury, had drawn his pistol.

The stand-off tiptoed along a knife edge, with the attention set on those within its squall, their servants eager for a command or sign to permit negotiation to give way to wild, furious violence. Canis, still nursing his glass, looked at his fingernails as he continued.

‘What I am hearing is that you believe to be . . . hard done by. If your intention was to simply antagonise us beneath our roof, then you’ve succeeded. I have returned in kind. But now what? I believe you came to us with legitimate concerns, which we are willing to hear, though one would argue they could have been presented in a much better fashion before things escalated to this point.’

Dominic stepped forward into the wash of chandelier light, his shoes echoing faintly across the polished marble. The two lines of Enforcers stood motionless on either side of the chamber.

‘Things are strained, you’re correct there. The streets harbour danger, the new blood runs wild. But your Family incites trouble, which I, and the others, react to accordingly. Your boy, Laik. We all know the danger he presents. We all see him for what he truly is.’

‘Enlighten me,’ Mortis stated.

‘A deterrent.’

Canis arched an eyebrow as he sipped from his glass once more.

Dominic continued, his voice sharp now, ‘A human-shaped reminder of repercussions for those who dare go against you. Your power doesn’t come from respect anymore. Hasn’t for a long time. It’s from fearing you may just decide to point him – or the thing inside him – in our direction. What surprises me is that I don’t think the poor bastard even knows it himself. Maybe you should tell him, Mortis. Come clean for a change. Or, even better, be rid of him for good, so you can restore the status quo.’

Concetta’s voice, when it came, was smooth as velvet but with an unmistakable edge beneath. ‘Laik has been a valuable asset since the day he came to us.’

‘And the fact he turns into a hulking monster doesn’t factor into that at all.’ Dominic gave a dry laugh. ‘Come on, Concetta. Things are like they are because of decisions like these. You parade yourselves as the bastions of vampire-kind, when you are no more elevated than any other Family.’

‘Then what do you propose?’ Concetta asked snippily. ‘What would satisfy you?’

Dominic Ode snorted through his nostrils.

‘It seems to me that we’re at an impasse. You refuse to surrender your wildcard to show commitment to the peace. I am unwilling to hand over my most competent Enforcer for what he may or may not have done. I propose . . . we let the situation resolve itself.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Let Horus and Laik settle their dispute once and for all. Put them in a ring, and let it be done. We are hosting the next Night Market in a couple of weeks. I daresay we could even make it an . . . event.’

Mortis pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the onset of a headache. ‘Let me clarify what you’re proposing. After the targeted harassment and indeed death of members of this Family, you are suggesting that we yield an Enforcer of ours to a fight to the death to . . . resolve bad blood?’

Dominic shrugged his shoulders with a small smile.

As the volley of words echoed through the vaulted chamber, Pepper bit at her nails. On paper, Dominic’s proposal was clean – public, decisive, theatrical. In the marrow, it was monstrous. Laik could be terrible when the Sins inside took him, but his violence was directed and fleeting. Horus, however, was a zealot in love with his own doctrine, and it would take nothing short of Laik’s destruction to satisfy him – for the moment. Together, the fight wouldn’t be a settling of accounts. It would be an execution for one, and for all her unspoken admiration of Laik, she was unsure whether the conclusion would be in his favour.

But that wasn’t something she could allow herself to be concerned with.

The flickering candlelight from the chandelier above lent her a bronze halo, though her face remained pale, drawn with focus rather than fatigue. This was all going sideways. Her focus had to remain on getting the Eternal Rose out of the Vault; she couldn’t afford any distractions. It was a pity that it couldn’t be exhibited in some fashion at the Market itself, as an exhibition piece in some capacity. It was so easy to get close to last time, but no matter how many times she thought it over, there was no justification for the Rose to travel.

The idea came, sudden. Insistent. A whisper of realisation drifted from between her lips.

‘Hold the Market here . . .’

Canis turned to her as she leaned in closer, her voice low.

‘Come again?’

She met his gaze. ‘Sir. It would make perfect sense. If we held the Night Market in Leroux Tower, we could keep a close eye on everything transpiring. We control the ground. We know the exits. Nobody would dare cause a commotion. More importantly, let Laik and Horus fight.’ The moment Pepper spoke their names she feared her voice would break. Instead, she found something harder in its place. She had sworn she would do anything –

Anything – to steal the Rose and save Claire, no matter the danger, or the cost. And that conviction was carried in her words. ‘It can be held on one of the floors. We can ensure there’s no wrongdoing, and we’ll call any bluffs that the Odes may have planned. If they want to settle things in such a fashion, we’ll hold the venue – but they can still foot the bill. We save face, look gracious, even. If they object, then they show themselves to be untrustworthy to the other Families.’

Canis smiled slowly, deliberately.

‘You sly fox.’

He turned back toward the circle of family heads and approached.

‘If I may be so bold,’ he said, voice cutting clean through the air, ‘I’ve had a flash of inspiration. Why not hold the next Night Market right here, in Leroux Tower?’

Mortis attempted an objection, but Concetta silenced him with a flick of a wrist. Her son continued working his audience.

‘You’re right, Dominic. Trust has been suffering as of late. That’s why so many vampires remain disillusioned, shun traditions and any proposed unity. But we, we can all, earn it back, with one glorious night of commerce, indulgence . . . and sport. By joining hands.’

He sipped his drink and slowly walked in a circle around Lord Ode, formulating details as he did so. With an ebb of a hand, the Enforcers serving his family slowly lowered their weapons.

‘Instead of having the Night Market somewhere out in the city, with all the hassle of enchanting the site, we Cavendishes will graciously provide the location. You will, of course, still pay for the logistics of the thing; your name will be the headline. But just imagine the gossip. The acclaim.’

Dominic considered him.

‘And the fight?’

Canis was in full swing, motioning with energy.

‘Not a fight. Fight conjures shirtless drunks scrapping in the gutter. This . . . is a magnificent contest being held between two excellent and tested combatants. A duel would be the proper term. The spectacle of it all! Braying crowds. Money changing hands. The pumping blood, the palatable excitement.’

His voice lowered as he closed in, features dark and seductive.

‘Lord Ode. Dominic. You would become known as the man who offered the city its most incredible spectacle in generations. And be revered for it . . . for decades to come.’

A slow, reluctant smile touched Ode’s mouth.

‘Revered, you say . . .’

Canis gave a solemn nod. ‘Oh, yes.’

Concetta watched the play unfold and finally nodded. ‘Quite the proposal, and one I am not averse to. It would certainly cater to concerns. Dominic, if you believe it to be suitable, this could be arranged.’

Dominic extended a hand. Concetta shook it, as did Canis. Mortis did not. The Ode Lord didn’t seem to mind.

‘I’ll return and make the announcements,’ he said. ‘I can’t see the other Families objecting. I’ll have my people make contact with yours, and they can argue the particulars. In the meantime, I must insist that Horus is returned so that he may prepare himself accordingly.’

Concetta gave a slow nod. ‘So be it. But make no mistake; he is still under charge for his crimes and will be judged accordingly. If he survives the duel, of course.’

Dominic’s eyes gleamed. ‘I have no qualms about that. If he survives, I’ll deliver him to you myself.’

Dominic and his Enforcers peeled away toward the lifts. Canis turned on his heel, climbing the stairs with practised grace. Mortis followed after, teeth bared in quiet fury; only the keenest caught his hissing reprimand of Canis, which would no doubt escalate in private.

Concetta trailed behind, hands laced behind her back. Pleased.

Swan watched them go, face hard.

‘This is going to be a nightmare,’ he muttered in irritation, baring his teeth to Pepper. ‘Why the hell did you suggest that?’

‘Because,’ she said softly, unfazed after witnessing her plan bloom into existence, ‘it’s the only way to end this stupid feud before it gets everyone killed.’

Far from a suitable answer, Swan stormed off.

Reese passed by Pepper with narrowed eyes. ‘You’ve just opened our doors to every goddamn vamp in the city. Most of them hate us. I sure hope you know what you’re doing.’

She gave Pepper’s shoulder a parting squeeze and vanished.

Pepper stood alone in the half-lit quiet, watching the reflection in the floor. A hand drifted to her neck to coil around the locket brandishing the photo of her sister.

‘I do,’ she whispered.

And this time, she meant it.