Hotbloods 5: Traitors

Defeated for now, I headed back up the spiral staircase, retracing my steps to the bedroom. On the way, I paused beside one of the bathrooms. The edges of the silver box were digging into my spine, reminding me of the risk I’d taken in letting Mort steal it. Then again, it had been worth every anxious thought. We were starting to get a picture of just how many things we were up against, although it felt a little like one of those Russian nesting dolls.

I snuck inside the bathroom and deposited the silver box in the water tank, knowing it would be safer there than anywhere else in the house. I’d thought about hiding it in the attic or the basement, but I didn’t want anyone to catch me wandering around with it. Besides, nobody ever used this bathroom except Ronad and me. Praying the box would be safe until I could get it back to the lab, I gave the toilet a flush, just for show, and hurried back to the bedroom.

“That was quick,” Ronad marveled as I entered.

I shook my head. “He’s in his lab.”

Ronad’s eyes flew wide with panic. “What if he notices it’s missing?!”

“I suggest you put your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye.”

“Not funny, Riley. I’m serious!”

“So am I.” I sighed. “If he finds out, he’ll come looking for us. I say we enjoy one last good night of sleep and try not to get our hopes up.”

“He’ll kill us, you know?”

I padded over to my bed and collapsed on the mattress, burrowing under the covers.

“I know,” I whispered, staring up at the ceiling, feeling tears prick my eyes.

In the silence of the room, sleep refused to come for me, for one terrible reason. I’d noticed it on the walk back from the alchemy lab, but just thought it was a trick of the light. Now, as I peered down beneath the collar of my t-shirt, I knew it wasn’t a trick. My climpet had stopped flashing, and that meant one of three things had happened—Navan was dead, he had stopped loving me, or someone had removed his climpet.





Chapter Eighteen





The following day, I spent most of my time in the kitchen, pacing a hole in the floor. I wanted to be nearby when Mort came back, but it was well into the afternoon and he’d yet to appear. I tried to relax, but since the light in my climpet had gone out, and Mort was the only one who might have some answers, I had to pace to keep myself sane.

Having heard that I wasn’t sleeping too well, Kaido had brought up a pot of dried herbs and flowers from the garden, a blend of his own creation. I’d just brewed a tea from the mixture and was carrying it over to where Ronad and Sarrask were sitting, each of them engrossed in a book, when Jareth burst into the room.

“This is all your fault!” he snapped, storming across the room to a cupboard at the far side. He pulled out a wooden box filled with glass vials. He took out one or two, checking the quantities. “She wasn’t like this until you two came here! Now, she’s swallowing poison, she can’t sleep, she won’t eat, she’s losing strength… What have you done to her? Did you say something to her, to make her drink that painkiller tonic? Is that what made her do it?” His eyes narrowed, his knuckles whitening around the glass bottles.

“She got the tonic from the medicine cabinet,” Ronad replied. “We didn’t say anything to her. She did it all on her own. We were there to stop it, but we didn’t start this.”

Jareth slammed his hands down on the counter. “She was getting along just fine before you two came here, and now she’s deteriorating by the second! Do you think I’m foolish enough to believe that’s a coincidence?”

To my surprise, it was Sarrask who spoke. “They’re trying to help, Father,” he said sternly. “Ronad sits beside her every day, feeding her ice chips until the fever eases. And they both helped her vomit up the poison. Without them, and their quick thinking, she’d be dead right now. I was the one who left the medicine cabinet unlocked. Blame me if you need someone to lay this on.”

“What if it wasn’t painkiller—what if it was something else? Something that they’ve been feeding her?” Jareth seethed.

“It’s not, Father. It was a simple painkiller tonic, taken from the medicine cabinet in Mother’s room. I checked the contents of the bottle myself.”

Sarrask had confirmed, shortly after the incident, that the medicine cabinet in his mother’s room wasn’t locked. He’d simply forgotten to turn the key the last time he’d been in there to give her a dose of her medication. Nobody could have known that Lorela would go in search of something to put an end to her illness, once and for all. Even so, I could tell Sarrask felt guilty.

I could also tell that Jareth was reluctant to give us the benefit of the doubt. “Be that as it may, your presence here agitates her. And it agitates me. You’ve been here long enough. If my sons will not obey my request, even at the risk of your lives, then so be it,” he said. “I won’t have you in my home much longer.”

With that, he picked up his vials and left the room, stomping up the stairs, the beat of his retreating footsteps jolting through my already-fragile nerves.

“Always a delight,” Ronad muttered, returning to his book.

“You okay?” Sarrask asked. My hands were trembling around the cup of herbal tea I held, making it impossible to tell a convincing lie.

“Oh, you know, fearing for my life… the usual.”

He smiled sadly. “Do you want to step outside for a minute, get some fresh air? It’ll be fine if I walk with you.”

I shook my head. “No, it’s okay. I think I’ll just go to my room.”

Ronad looked up from his book. “You want company?”

“Not really.”

It seemed I was pretty popular today, but the only person I wanted to see was Mort. I wanted him to prove himself trustworthy. Well, I really wanted to see Navan, but news of him would have to do. The dead, lightless climpet in my chest felt like a gaping void.

Taking my cup of tea with me, I headed up to the tower room, sitting by the window so I could see the approach of any unknown ships. There was every chance Mort might not bother coming back, but the optimistic side of me refused to doubt him. I needed him to come back.



An hour or so later, there was a knock at the front door. Knowing it could only be one person, I sprinted out of the bedroom, heading through the hallways to the second-floor bathroom, where I’d hidden the silver box device in the water tank. The bathroom itself was tucked away at the back of a long corridor, away from the main rooms of the house. Ronad had promised to tell Mort to meet me there, out of earshot. I figured I could pretend to run a bath, giving us some privacy to talk alone without someone else walking in. All I had to do was wait until he’d offered his useless medical opinions about Lorela’s condition.

The bathroom was spacious, with a huge tub in one corner, a walk-in shower on the opposite side, and the usual toilet and sink closest to the door. An opaque black glass barrier rose up around two sides of the shower, blocking the person showering from view. It was here that I hid, sitting down on the stone floor, pressing myself back against the black glass and tucking my knees to my chin.

I froze as the door creaked open. Footsteps scuffed along the tiles, followed by the clunk of the toilet seat being lifted. Panic bristled through me. I found myself fearful that this person might somehow feel the need to lift the lid of the toilet’s water tank, only to find the silver device inside. A moment later, that fear turned to stifled laughter as a zipper unzipped, and my unsuspecting guest began to pee. I wasn’t sure who’d just walked in, but I knew it couldn’t be Ronad or Mort. That only left three other options—Kaido, Sarrask, or Jareth. Kaido had already told me he only ever used his own bathroom, not wanting to encounter the germs and hygiene habits of other people. By a process of elimination, that left two.

“Sarrask!” Jareth’s voice yelled from somewhere else in the house, sounding distant.

“Coming!” the person in the bathroom shouted back, the bellow bouncing off the walls.