The much anticipated next Night 17 page didn’t want to see me, he wouldn’t have
come.
“I have a solution that will work for
both of us,” I said.
A brow arched. I glanced pointedly at
the guard.
“You want to do this here?”
Vlad’s mouth tightened, but he swept
past me and started up the stairs. I
followed him to the enclosed hallway that
was the main corridor for the basement.
There, he stopped and faced me.
“What?”
Still abrupt, but his tone was less curt. I
closed the distance between us and started
brushing the ash off his clothes. He tensed,
yet made no attempt to stop me.
“From your mood, you haven’t gotten
Cynthiana’s location from Shrapnel yet,” I
noted casually. “He’s tough, plus she may
have bewitched him so he can’t tell you
where she is.”
His gaze followed every move I made,
yet he held himself completely still. “That
also occurred to me.”
“Of course it did.” I ran my fingers
through his hair to brush the residue from
it. “You’ve been doing this a lot longer
than me.”
His smile was so cold it could’ve
turned steam into dry ice. “If flattery is
your solution, don’t bother. You’re not
using her knife to link to her. I’ve already
disposed of it.”
I continued dusting the gray film from
him. “That’s fine.”
His gaze narrowed at my easy
compliance. “You’re not touching
Shrapnel to link to her, either.”
“Don’t want to,” I said breezily. “I can
do without psychically reliving your
interrogation techniques, thanks.”
At that, he grabbed my hands and pulled
me closer. “Stop lying, Leila. You haven’t
given up and we both know it.”
His face was mere inches away, stubble
darker from ash and lips thinned into a
hard line. I stared up at him, unbowed by
the fierceness in his gaze.
“All Shrapnel has to do is hold out a
few days until Cynthiana realizes he’s
been caught and she bolts. He knows it
and you know it. But she lived here, so her
old room must be filled with essencelaced
objects I can’t possibly kill myself
with. If you really want to go overboard
ensuring I stay safe, chain me up before I
try using one of those to link to her.”
At that, both his brows rose. “Chain
you?”
I flashed him an impish smile. “Come
on, I’m sure you’ve fantasized about it.”
“More and more each day.”
Muttered in a sinister tone, but the wall
around him cracked and I felt a flash of his
emotions. He was still angry, yes.
Frustrated, too. Yet under that was a hint
of appreciation. If anyone could
understand my single-minded
determination to take down an enemy, it
was Vlad.
Then he let out a harsh sigh. “That
occurred to me as well, but in her room,
you might see things I don’t want you to
see.”
Blind rage shot through me at the
thought of psychically experiencing Vlad
making love to another woman. I’d never
known I was the jealous type, but clearly I
had some issues. Then I forced those
feelings back, replacing them with the
coldest, darkest part of me.
“If so, I’ll have to get over it by
watching you kill her later.”
He stared at me in a penetrating way
that measured my words against pieces of
me only he could see. I stared back. If he
thought I didn’t mean what I said, he was
wrong.
At last, he inclined his head, the barest
smile ghosting across his lips. “As it
happens, I do have some chain.”
Chapter 42
Ilooked around Cynthiana’s old bedroom
with cynical curiosity. So this was where
the witch used to stay.
Like all of the rooms in Vlad’s house, it
was opulent. It also had an obvious
feminine theme with the lilac and cream
decor, lace draperies, dainty crystal
fixtures, and a balcony that overlooked the
exterior garden. Dried flowers shot
through with web-thin gold strands
adorned the fireplace mantel, scenting the
room with a pleasant, natural fragrance. I
was beyond glad I didn’t smell Vlad’s
scent, bless his diligent cleaning staff.
“How long ago did you two break up?”
My voice was casual, belying the inner
battle within me. Spiteful Leila was
gleeful that Vlad kept Cynthiana two full
floors below him on the same wing that all
his guests stayed at. Practical Leila was
deciding which fixture to touch for a
sufficient essence impression.
“A few years ago.”
I gave him a jaded look. “Pretending
she doesn’t matter enough to remember?
Then why did you keep her bedroom
exactly the way she had it when she lived
here?”
He folded his arms, the silver chains
he’d draped over his shoulder rattling
with the motion.
“If she still mattered to me, I wouldn’t
have married you. This room remained
unused because you were my next lover
and you slept with me.”
I glanced away, my gaze drawn to the
bed. Gossamer material wrapped around
the bedposts before pooling at the floor in
elegant heaps. What would I see if I
touched that bed? Cynthiana had over
three hundred years of experience on me.
Maybe I’d see Vlad looking happier with
her than he did with me.
“Leila.”
I glanced back almost guiltily. That’s
when I became aware that my fangs had
come out and I’d been grinding my teeth
so hard, I’d ripped open my bottom lip.
“Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with
me,” I muttered, sucking my lip so I didn’t
drip blood on the thick white carpet.
“Don’t apologize.”
No censure colored his expression, and
the emotions that slid over mine had the
soothing caress of satin. “All vampires
are overly possessive when it comes to
what’s ours.”
I could blame my seething jealousy on
vampirism? Done!
Then Vlad began to bind my wrists with
multiple lengths of chain. With how strong
he was, I doubted this was necessary even
if Cynthiana had managed to add a
vampiric form of hara-kiri to her linking
booby trap, but if it made him feel
better . . .
“Going to save some of that for later?” I
joked.
The look he gave me made me forget
how unpleasant the silver felt against my
wrists.
“When I tie you up, I’ll use silk, and I’ll
leave your hands free because I love to
feel them on my skin.”
Not if. When. Despite the erotic
promise, being chained up while in his
ex’s bedroom should’ve cooled my
response. Instead, I felt all the desire Vlad
usually elicited in me along with a
visceral urge to assert my claim on him in
the very place that someone else had
dared touch him.
Overly possessive? Yeah, I had it bad.
“If you leave my hands free,” I asked in
a throaty voice, “what’s the point of tying
me up?”
His wicked smile affected me as much
as the heat that swept over my emotions,
lashing me with thousands of invisible,
sensual whips. Then he leaned in, the soft
sandpaper of his jaw grazing my cheek.
“Why tell you when I can show you?”
I closed my eyes, taking in a breath to
smell the rich spiciness of his scent. Now
I knew how I wanted to spend the rest of
the evening, but first things first.
He drew back, continuing to drape
chains around me until they went all the
way up to my elbows. If I still had
circulation, my hands would have been
numb. Then he threaded more silver
through them to secure my bound arms to
my body with more loops of chain. Now
all I could do from the waist up was
wiggle my fingers and bite.
Satisfied, he dropped the remaining
chains onto the floor and went over to the
bed. I tensed, but all he retrieved was a
lamp from the night table.
“Gently,” he warned as he held it out to
me. Did he think I’d never touched
something fancy before? I grasped the
smooth crystal base with my right fingers
—and it shattered like I’d smashed it with
a crowbar.
“What the hell?” I exclaimed.
He gave me a sardonic glance as he
brushed the shards from my hand. “You’re
not used to your new strength. Until you
are, treat everything as though it’s more
fragile than eggshells, and whatever you
do, don’t touch a human.”
I looked at the glittering shards with a
wince. Now I had another reason for not
giving my sister a hug good-bye later.
“Were those dried flowers on the
mantel hers?” I asked, seeking something
that wouldn’t cost a lot if I broke it.
“She picked them, yes,” Vlad replied,
pulling a chunk out of the arrangement
without care for how that spoiled it.
I told myself it wasn’t petty to enjoy
seeing something of Cynthiana’s ruined.
She’d killed me, after all.
I stroked the flowers when Vlad held
them out. Most of them disintegrated on
contact, telling me I was still using too
much strength, but something flared in the
remaining batch.
There you are , I thought with dark
satisfaction, and then everything around
me changed.
I walked through the meadow, adding
flowers to the growing pile in my basket.
Vlad’s staff would be happy to add to the
garden outside my room, but I was
careful not to have all the spell’s
ingredients in one place. Just in case
someone recognized the significance of
these particular flowers.
The beautiful spring day did nothing
to improve my foul mood. It had only
been six months since the last spell, yet
Vlad was already acting distant again. I
yanked out a handful of lilacs, damaging
them in my frustration. Any other man
would be madly, irrevocably in love with
me, but after seven spells, I could barely
keep Vlad from leaving me.
The problem, of course, was the same
reason why he was such a valuable
protector. His power. It was why I’d
worked so hard to gain his attention in
the first place, and also why he was
practically immune to my spells. I didn’t
dare use stronger magic on him. He
might dismiss all the flowers as feminine
fancy, but he’d notice ingredients for
darker magic. What the Law Guardians
would do to me would be nothing
compared to his wrath if he found out I’d
been using spells on him.
I grabbed another handful of lilacs,
refusing to dwell on the repercussions of
being caught. That wouldn’t happen as
long as I was careful, and besides, I had
no choice. Most vampires had Masters to
protect them. Others had enough
strength to protect themselves. The rest
of us—Masterless with only average
power—were left to fend for ourselves.
After my sire was murdered, lovers gave
me the protection other vampires took
for granted. When that wasn’t enough,
magic made up the difference. The day I
became a vampire, I swore no matter the
cost, I’d never be helpless again. I had
my fill of that as a Scottish peasant
living under English rule. I brushed off
those memories to give a critical look at
my basket’s contents. Perhaps more
mallow would make the spell last
longer . . .
When I morphed back into my own
mindset, I stared at the crumbled bits of
dried flowers in my hand, torn between
rage and incredulousness.
“Do you know what these are?”
He shrugged. “Lilacs, poppies,
amaranth—”
“Ingredients for a spell,” I cut him off.
“Lilacs to prompt love, red poppy for true
love, mallow for being overwhelmed with
love, blue poppy for the unattainable made
possible, amaranth for undying love . . .
see where she was going with this?”
“I never loved her.”
His voice vibrated with forcefulness. I
smiled grimly.
“Yes, and it ticked her off that you were
too strong for her spell to fully work. Still,
you stayed with her for the better part of
three decades so her efforts weren’t a
total bust.” Vlad opened his mouth and . . .
nothing. I’d never seen him speechless
before, but finding out your free will had
been messed with would be upsetting for
anyone. Finding it out when you had his
level of arrogance would be stunning.
“See if you can find her” was what he
bit out. I wouldn’t want to be Cynthiana
for all the money in the world right now.
I stroked the dried flowers again. The
memory of her picking them was fainter
now, allowing me to push past it to focus
on her essence trail.
There. Like a fishing line with her
swimming at the end of it. I concentrated,
but every time I pulled on that line, I came
back with nothing. I kept trying, an internal
clock pitilessly noting the passage of time
as I continued to fail to reach the other
side. Ten minutes. Twenty. Thirty. Forty.
“Leila, stop.”
Vlad brushed the floral bits out of my
hands. Frustrated, I watched as they
scattered to the ground.
“I don’t know why I can’t see her. I
used to glimpse her before my health went
haywire. Now, I don’t even get that.”
“You’ve been a vampire exactly one
day,” Vlad said as he began to unwind my
chains. “Every cell in your body has been
drastically altered. It’s remarkable you’re
able to use any of your abilities this
soon.”
“Remarkable. That and four quarters
will get me a dollar.”
I had reason for my glumness. Even if
Vlad’s people didn’t breathe a word about
Shrapnel to outsiders, any day now,
Cynthiana would figure out something was
wrong and go into hiding. When she did, it
could be years before she resurfaced
again. Sure, Shrapnel would eventually
break, if Cynthiana hadn’t bewitched him
into never revealing her location, but
she’d be long gone by then. I might have
all the time in the world to hunt her now,
but my family didn’t. I couldn’t expect
them to stay in hiding for years until we
caught her, yet if they didn’t, they were
walking targets.
It might already be too late. Cynthiana
would be expecting new word from
Shrapnel already . . .
“I know how we can get her,” I said,
struck by inspiration. “Send Sandra into
town to leave another message, this one
telling Cynthiana where and when
Shrapnel wants to meet her.”
Vlad unwound the final chain from me.
“She’s not foolish enough to fall for such a
trick.”
“Foolish? Maybe not. Arrogant? You
betcha,” I countered. “This woman cast
spells on you under your own roof,
knowing all the while that you’d kill her if
you found out. That’s so arrogant it’s like
she had two boulders in a sack for balls.”
His lips thinned at the reminder of how
she’d manipulated his willpower. I
continued on as if I hadn’t noticed.
“No wonder she hates my guts. You
said vampires were psycho possessive. In
a few months, you offered me more than
you offered her after three decades under
her magical influence, yet I left because it
wasn’t good enough. She probably had
Adrian making that bomb even before
Shrapnel gave her my location.”
More whitening of his mouth, and then
suddenly, he smiled.
“I know why you’re goading me, but
you will not get me to act rashly out of
injured pride.”
“You wouldn’t,” I said, holding his
gaze. “But she would. Since news of our
marriage must’ve reached her by now, I
bet she’s hit a whole new red zone of
woman-scorned rage.”
Vlad stared at me. “Perhaps,” he said at
last.
I couldn’t help but glance at the bed
again. In fairness, I shouldn’t point fingers
at Cynthiana for crossing into insane
jealousy territory. The thought of the
hours, days—hell, years!—Vlad had spent
entwined with her in that bed upset me far
past normal “vampire possessiveness.” In
fact, my urge to manifest an electrical
whip and start lashing the bed into pieces
was so strong, my hand began to spark.
Vlad glanced at my hand and then at my
face. Before I could say anything, the bed
burst into flames.
My mouth opened in disbelief. In the
few moments I took to close it, the
wooden frame had buckled from the
extreme heat and nothing was left of the
blankets, pillows, and mattress except a
smoldering black heap. Instead of that
delicate floral fragrance, the room now
stank of burnt foam and smoke.
The violently tender emotions sweeping
mine told me why he’d done it, and it had
nothing to do with his anger toward
Cynthiana. He simply wanted to destroy
something that hurt me.
I said nothing. Neither did he. Words
were unnecessary now.
Chapter 43
Iwoke with the same suddenness as on
the past five days, going from unconscious
to on my feet in less time than it took to
say, “Good evening.” The only difference
was that tonight, my first thoughts weren’t
of hunger.
“Did she buy it?” I asked at once.
Vlad had been standing by the open slot
in the wall. In response, he held out the
blood bag I hadn’t leapt upon.
I ignored it despite my fangs popping
out and my stomach clenching as though it
were a fist opening and closing. Four days
ago, Sandra left a message for Cynthiana
telling her where Shrapnel wanted to
meet. The next day, the bookstore owner,
also mesmerized into betraying Vlad,
drove seventy miles away to make a call
that wouldn’t be routed through the cell
tower Vlad owned. Today, while I was
asleep, Sandra went back to the bookstore
to see if The Odyssey contained
Cynthiana’s RSVP.
“Did she?” I repeated.
“Yes and no.”
He stroked his jaw in a seemingly
absent way, yet he only did that when he
was in deep contemplation.
“She agreed to meet him tomorrow at
seven, but changed the location to the
Bucharest Metro.”
I’d never taken the main Romanian
subway for obvious reasons, but it wasn’t
hard to figure out the problem.
“She picked rush hour in a busy public
place.”
We’d chosen a warehouse in a sparsely
populated town. Easy to surround, fewer
bystanders to worry about. Cynthiana
must’ve figured that out, too. Looked like
Vlad and I were both right about her. She
might be arrogant enough to come, but she
wasn’t stupid enough to do it without
adding protections. “It presents several
difficulties, starting with being impossible
to secure.” He gave me a brief, sardonic
smile. “Many members of the Romanian
government are in my line, yet I can’t
order the entire Metro shut down. Even
Mencheres couldn’t freeze tens of
thousands of commuters and dozens of
trains to catch her.”
“And if the Metro is suddenly filled
with vampires, she’ll get suspicious and
bolt.” I sighed. “Is tracing the bookstore
owner’s call the next move?”
Vlad continued to stroke his jaw.
“Already done. It went to a burner phone
that led to nowhere. That leaves the
Metro.”
“Did she even say which station?”
He snorted. “No, but it’s obvious.”
I let that alone. “Vlad, if she catches
sight of you, she’ll run. In fact, after living
with you for three decades, I bet she
knows most of the vampires in your line
and your allies, so a glimpse of one of
them would make her a rabbit, too.”
He didn’t dispute any of the above.
“After tomorrow, she’ll realize Shrapnel
has been compromised. I’ll put a large
bounty out on her, but catching her will
take time. Difficult or not, the Metro is
still my best chance.”
“Yes,” I said steadily, “it is, but you’re
forgetting something important.”
A brow arched. “And that is?”
“Me.”
“Not this again,” he muttered.
“I’m the obvious choice. She doesn’t
know what I look or smell like, so I could
be standing right next to her and she
wouldn’t feel the slightest bit threatened.”
“Why should she? She’s three hundred
years older than you.”
His tone was scathing, but I wasn’t
going to let him sidetrack me taking it
personally.
“When we met, you insisted that I learn
how to use my electrical abilities to fight,
and you were right. They ended up saving
my life when I took down vampires a lot
older than me. But more than that, you
keep saying ‘I’ when this isn’t only about
you. Cynthiana killed my friends at the
carnival. She had me kidnapped. Then it
was her spell that stole my mortality from
me before I was ready to give it up. If I
was the type of person who’d let all of
that slide, you wouldn’t love me because
that sure as hell isn’t who you are.”
His stare could’ve bent a laser from its
intensity.
“You expect me to forgo my vengeance
in favor of yours?”
“No,” I said, adding with an inward
smile, “they call you Vlad the Impaler, not
Vlad the Emasculated. All I want is to go
into the Metro and find her. Then I’ll
either flush her out or tail her and give you
her location. Either way, you’ll be the one
to bag and tag her, but she’ll know—and
so will I—that I helped take her down.”
He was silent for a long while. Then he
said, “You’ve never even seen her face.”
Not a Hell, no! I began to feel a tingle
of anticipation.
“Don’t worry. I’ve seen enough to spot
her.”
Icouldn’t remember the last time I’d been
surrounded by so many people. Maybe it
was American snootiness that made me
assume a Romanian subway wouldn’t be
much busier than some of the larger
carnivals I’d worked; maybe it was being
underground that made everything feel
more crowded. Whatever the reason, as I
crossed the fourteen platforms of the Gara
de Nord, I actually had to fight back a
sense of claustrophobia.
At least I didn’t have to worry about
electrocuting any of the commuters that
brushed past me on their way to or from
one of the Metro’s many trains.
Underneath my business casual pants and
blazer was a full body wetsuit, the rubber
thicker because it was normally used for
icy water dives. A silk scarf hid where the
suit rose to the base of my neck, while
theater-thick makeup covered my scar.
Aside from the annoying squeaking
noises it made when I walked, the wetsuit
could be a new wardrobe staple. I hadn’t
been able to pass through a crowd without
worrying about electrocuting people since
I was fourteen. If it wouldn’t have
attracted undue attention, I might have
hugged a stranger just because I could.
Of course, there was another issue that
being so close to thousands of people
brought up. My hunger. Everywhere
around me, countless veins bulged with
the tantalizing nectar I now craved like a
drug. Under normal circumstances, I’d be
slowly introduced into limited-contact
settings with humans to make sure I had
enough control to handle it. Going into an
underground Metro at rush hour was akin
to jumping in the deep end to sink or
swim. More than once, my fangs popped
out and I had to hastily put a drink to my
face to hide it. Good thing Vlad had
suggested getting a cup of coffee as a
prop.
The unpleasant smell of my
surroundings helped curb my hunger,
actually. With the bustle of people and the
different sections of tunnels came all types
of odors. Certain parts of the Metro were
only a few shades more aromatic than
Vlad’s dungeon. My first trip by a public
bathroom almost made me throw up.
A screeching noise preceded a train on
the M1 line coming to a halt. I sipped my
coffee and watched the throngs of people
load and unload, paying special attention
to the women. No thick walnut-colored
hair or telltale skin a shade too creamy,
plus the only vibes I felt came from the
electricity running through the tracks. I
glanced at my watch. Six fifty-nine p.m.
Time to check the next set of tracks at the
Basarab stop.
Yes, Vlad had a Metro station named
after him. No wonder he said it was
obvious where Cynthiana would expect to
meet Shrapnel. The M1 side of the tracks
was done in bland shades of white and
gray, but the M4 side had orange walls,
black granite floors, and yellow neon
lights. Somehow, I thought the boldercolored
section was where I’d find
Cynthiana. If its vividness reminded me of
Vlad, it would probably remind her, too.
We had an appreciation for him in
common, after all.
Another ear-splitting screech
announced a train coming into the M4
station. I leaned against one of the wide
columns, my hair falling over part of my
face as I studied the commuters. Could
that brunette be her? Nope, she had a fresh
pimple, something no vampire could get.
Maybe the woman in the ball cap . . . no,
not with that deliciously throbbing vein in
her neck from how she hurried off the
track.
I muttered a curse as my fangs sprang
out again. Now I knew how teenage boys
with unwanted erections felt. I pretended
to take a long sip from my coffee as I
silently willed them back into my gums,
and then I felt it—an aura of power,
invisible yet potent, like a cloud of
perfume, and coming right toward me.
I kept the coffee cup in front of my face
as I sought the source. Not there, not there
. . . there. Oh yes, I’d know that thick,
walnut-colored hair anywhere, not to
mention her gliding grace made her stand
out like a ballerina amidst a stampede of
bulls.
With my gloved hand, I pinched the
wire my scarf concealed and whispered
two words into the microphone.
“She’s here.”
Then I stared, finally getting a full look
at the woman who’d wreaked so much
havoc in my life. Taken piece by piece,
her face was full of flaws. Her mouth was
too wide, nose a trace too long, and
cheekbones so high they looked
artificially enhanced. Put together, though,
she was beautiful in a way you’d find hard
to forget because it wasn’t “pretty”
beauty, but the bold, striking kind that
made it difficult to look away.
And that’s why I recognized her even
though our previous meeting had only
lasted seconds. No wonder Cynthiana had
used a spell that not only made it
impossible to get a fix on her location, but
also blocked me from seeing her face.
That spell hadn’t just prevented us from
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