Unlocking the wrought-iron gate with power mine recognizes.
I feel it as Emil unleashes his true magic for the very first time to open this door. As I sense a whirl of bright Blood Magic in his power, along with a dark slither of Bone Magic, I know at once he’s a Bloodwalker.
But I don’t know how that’s possible; to my knowledge, only drakainas have been Bloodwalkers in the past. He gives me a clever look now as he feels me recognize him.
Holding the gate wide, as he nods us through.
“This way,” he says as he nods at the vaulted underground hall beyond, deep beneath the city. “The torches will guide you to The Chartreuse. When you get there, tell the bouncers at the door you’re Emil’s special friends. They’ll let you in… no matter the state of the inkings upon your palms.”
“You’re vouching for us, personally.” I stare hard at him now. “Why?”
“Us Bloodwalkers have to stick together,” he says with a clever wink. “My hotel is a safe space for Bloodwalkers and their mates, of all varieties. There are many here in Copenhagen. Not all of us are female, however; and not all of us prefer heterosexual mates. Our Danish Blood Dragon rulers don’t like that. It makes them fear we are too powerful, and they raid the homes of known Bloodwalkers from time to time. Many of us live protected at my hotel for this reason. If we do a little crime on the side, since our rulers restrict us in our livelihoods, so be it.”
I’m impressed by Emil, even though he’s also admitted his hotel truly is a den of gamblers and thieves. I offer my hand and he takes it, and we shake. “I will return the favor for you someday.”
“Not necessary. Though having friends in other countries when my rulers come calling is always welcome.” Emil has a knowing glint in his eyes, as if vicious raids from his Danish Blood Dragon rulers have broken all the copious warding on his hotel in the past, and his people have had to flee. He confirms my thought by waving a hand at the tunnel. “This is an ancient Bloodwalker escape route and goes to many locations beneath and beyond Copenhagen. I’ve enchanted the torches to lead you to the club. The Proprietor and Proprietress have offered The Chartreuse up to friends of mine in the past, when they needed escape. So the guards on this tunnel will see you, and they will take you straight to Mikkel and Lærke… wherever they are hiding in their clubs’ network.”
As he speaks, I understand Emil knows far more about Mikkel and Lærke’s situation, and our own, than he’s telling. But he’s got people to protect and only sticks out his hand to Ström now, smiling.
“Be well, Emil… and thanks,” Ström says quietly as he grips it.
“You as well.” Emil winks. “Don’t say all Danish Blood Dragons are frightful. Some of us are really quite nice, when our backs aren’t up against a wall.”
“And then—watch out.” Ström grins as he shakes Emil’s hand, then claps him on the shoulder.
“Watch out, indeed,” Emil says with a dark, fierce look now.
Then ushers us all inside the tunnel, closing the gate behind us.
22
MYSTERY
As we maneuver through the underground hall, we soon leave Emil Beck and theForgyldt Burhotel far behind. We’re in a network of tunnels deep beneath Copenhagen; as we continue past vaulted stone halls and countless closed doors, all sprouting through the underground, we’re guided by sorcerous violet-gold torches that blossom to life just as the one behind us darkens.
It’s like following a trail of breadcrumbs through a Hans Christian Andersen fairytale, as we hear strange noises through the dark halls. Some doors down here look beyond old, warded and seething with power we’re not about to touch. Ancient, those wards feel like what we experienced beneath Seerselen.
Remnants of a past forgotten by all, except the most ancient Blood Dragons.
At last, we reach the end of our journey. As we turn a corner and are confronted by a dead end hall with an ornate iron door, the violet-gold torch beside that door flares to life. With an 1800s design of flowers and alchemical equipment, the iron door before us features beautiful gold lettering which shimmers to life with aspring green light.The Chartreuse,it says in an elegant 1800s block script.
Ström gives a sudden sigh, as tension leaves him.
As I tap into his emotions now, I realize that some part of Ström was afraid Emil would lead us astray. Despite them being friends, Ström has never told Emil his real name, or divulged to the man his true identity. And though Emil is all smiles, he’s never really done the same. They’re aligned, but on a basic level, they don’t trust each other. Some part of Ström was worried Emil had sent us down here on a fool’s errand.
To die some place hidden, far from the light.
But Emil had no reason to betray us; we all know it as Bjorn reaches up now, pulling a long iron chain beside the door, with a gilded ironwork handle. We hear a series of chimes within. As they cease, dozens of locks behind the door chunk open.
The door swinging out—as a massive bouncer in black regards us curiously.
“Yes?” He crosses his bulky arms over his chest, barring our way inside. He’s so big, I can’t even see what’s beyond him. As his black t-shirt strains over his frankly enormous muscles, even bigger than Bjorn’s, I wonder if this guy is half-giant.
His magical signature says Blood Dragon, however, as it sears around him, crimson with a dark copper undertone. But Rock Giants and Dragons have been able to interbreed in the past. Perhaps this guy is one of their offspring as he stares down at us now, lifting a serious eyebrow.
Waiting.
“We’re special friends of Emil Beck.” Ström steps forward, smiling but holding the man’s gaze intently. “He said The Chartreuse might be able to help us?”
