Pamela Palmer - [Vamp City 02]

by A Kiss of Blood

  “Undoubtedly.”

  “Find him.”

  Arturo nodded. “Kassius is already hunting him. We’ll find him.”

  Cristoff began to grin. “She’s powerful.”

  “So it would seem. Where she came into that power, I do not know.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Only that she has it. With that kind of power, she’ll renew the magic on a null day. It matters not that we catch her today. Only that we catch her soon.”

  Arturo hoped she was half as strong as he’d portrayed in his fiction. She had power, yes. Power enough to throw furniture, but enough to save a magical world? That was yet to be seen.

  Leaning back against the side of the tub, Cristoff closed his eyes. “You’re the only one of all my vampires whose loyalty I have never questioned, my snake.”

  The words no longer warmed Arturo as they used to.

  The vampire master waved his hand lazily. “Whiskey for me and my loyal son.”

  One of the Slavas immediately poured two tumblers, settling one in each vampire’s hand.

  Cristoff took a sip of his and opened his eyes, spearing Arturo. “You and Micah will find the sorceress in the real world, and you’ll bring her to me. Quickly, Arturo, for we’ve not much time before this world crumbles around us. She will renew the magic. And then . . .” A satisfied smile bloomed slowly across his face. “And then she is mine.”

  Arturo swallowed. “What have you planned for her?” He tensed for the litany of tortures Cristoff had in mind.

  But all his master said was, “You’ll see, my loyal one. You’ll see. And you shall rejoice.”

  Finally, Cristoff rose, taking the towel offered him. Arturo did the same, drying off and quickly dressing as one of the Slavas helped Cristoff back into his robe.

  Cristoff picked up his whiskey glass and motioned for Arturo to follow him into the hallway, where two guards stood at attention. Arturo had never seen the kovena guards quite so rigid. Nor had he ever tasted such fear. One in particular, one of the newer guards, was shaking with it. Never a wise thing to do in front of Cristoff.

  Cristoff slowed, noticing the visibly trembling countenance of the younger guard and the way he tried without success to meet Cristoff’s gaze.

  Eye narrowing, Cristoff peered at him. “What have you to hide?”

  “N-nothing. I just . . . nothing!”

  Cristoff turned to Arturo. “Do you think he tells the truth?”

  Arturo considered, feeling the path beneath his feet narrowing with every passing hour until he stood on little more than a tightrope. “Yes,” he said blandly. “He was in the throne room earlier. I suspect he was affected by the executions.”

  With a considering look at the guard, Cristoff crooked a finger. “Come.”

  The young guard turned sheet white, but followed them down the hall to Cristoff’s study. The vampire master placed his palm against the top right panel of the door. Soon the door rattled slightly, then sighed, opening. Only Cristoff had access to this room.

  Arturo followed Cristoff into the room, the young guard trailing uneasily, his heart rate jackhammering, his fear flowing into Arturo’s system like an infusion of sour wine.

  Arturo had always loved Cristoff’s study, with its walls lined with bookshelves, overflowing with tomes collected throughout Vamp City soon after it was created—duplicates of the real versions that would fetch a handsome price if money ever became an issue for the kovena. A brightly colored Persian rug covered the cold tile topped by a well-used brown leather recliner that sat before the hearth. Against one wall stood the chess table where he’d once spent untold pleasant hours.

  In addition to the bookshelves, glass cases filled with relics collected throughout Cristoff’s considerable lifetime dotted the room. The most prized, by far, was the jewel-hilted sword at the back of the room.

  Escalla.

  Cristoff motioned to the glass case in which Escalla appeared to float without tethering. “Retrieve the sword for me,” Cristoff commanded the now-quaking guard.

  Arturo’s eyes narrowed, his own pulse quickening. For as long as Cristoff had owned the sword, he’d warned his vampires that Escalla had been charmed to respond only to his calling. Any attempt by another to touch it would mean death. Had that all been a ruse to keep them away from it? Or was Cristoff up to more of his sadistic play?

  The young guard started forward uncertainly but conquered his fear and strode forward until he stood in front of the magical case.

  “I . . . I’m not sure . . .”

  “Reach in and take it out,” Cristoff snapped.

  The male did just that, his hand moving effortlessly, startlingly, through what appeared to be glass and apparently wasn’t. But when he would have closed his fingers around the hilt, he froze. And suddenly he was encased in a mystical green fire that slowly melted the flesh off his bones. He screamed. A moment later, he turned to ash.

  “I never could abide cowards.” Cristoff strode forward, reached into the case, and pulled out the sword. He glanced at Arturo. “This is the most powerful weapon in the world, in the right hands.” He chuckled. “In the right heart.”

  Arturo’s own heart began to race as he stared at the sword whose destruction was presumably the only means of destroying the Levenach curse. Fortunately, there was no need for such a measure since destroying the weapon would be nigh-on impossible when he couldn’t even touch it. Quinn’s magic was almost certainly strong enough now to renew Vamp City, he was sure of it. And once she did, she would be safe. That was all that mattered.

  “Go, my snake. Find the sorceress. Quickly!”

  Arturo bowed before his master, aching at the loss of the Cristoff he’d once known and at the lives wasted this day. How many more would die before the magic was renewed? How long before Cristoff began to regain his soul?

  If he ever did.

  Lily drank her fill from the cool stream, then wiped her ice-cold hands on the skirt of the slave’s dress she’d been given when she first arrived at Castle Smithson. The gown was long-sleeved and wool, and she thanked the heavens for it. The temperature had turned downright cold, and she’d have frozen to death if all she had were the T-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops she’d been wearing the morning she wandered out of the real world as she’d waited for Zack.

  A dozen times a day, she wished she’d pulled on running shoes and socks that morning as she’d dressed for class. She’d lost her flip-flops early on and been without shoes ever since. Inside, being barefoot didn’t bother her much, but out here, her feet were tender and sore. And ice-cold.

  Still, cold, sore feet were a small price to pay for freedom. And, for the moment, she was free. She’d slipped out of the Trader’s cart as it bounced through a shallow stream, soaking her bare feet and legs though sparing her dress, which she’d hiked up high. Stealing into the woods, she’d run for more than a mile, ignoring the pain in her feet, unsure which direction to go. Eventually, she’d come upon a small shack that looked as if it hadn’t been lived in since 1870, and there she’d taken shelter for the night.

  This morning, the realities of being on her own had begun to set in. Almost from the moment she’d arrived in Vamp City, the vampires had provided for her—food when she was hungry and a somewhat warm, somewhat safe place to live. With her freedom, she’d lost those. And, a born-and-bred city girl, she had no idea how to fend for herself.

  Then again, even the most ardent survivalist likely had little knowledge of how to live in a land without animals except for the vampires’ horses. A land where the only things that grew were dead trees.

  She’d known, on an intellectual level, that food would be a problem, and had shoved a couple of slices of stolen bread into her dress pocket before she left. But she’d eaten one last night and the other this morning and was already hungry. And she was completely and totally out of food.

  If she didn’t find a way to escape Vamp City soon, she was going to starve.

  The earth rumbled a split second
before the shaking began. The water in the creek began to roll and splash, and she backed up, not wanting to get wet. The crash of a nearby tree had her hunching protectively as her heart began to hammer with excitement and hope.

  Suddenly, the heavens opened. Sun poured down in a beam of light not twenty feet away. Her heart leaped and she ran for it without hesitation, praying she’d run right through into the real world. And, hopefully, not into the path of an oncoming car.

  But when she reached the light and dove into the blessed warmth of the sunshine, nothing happened. In the shadows all around her, the dead trees stood sentinel, as if blocking her escape.

  Her heart plummeted, and she fought back tears of disappointment. Trying one more time, she stepped out of the sunbeam on the other side, and back into the light.

  “Please, let me through. Please!”

  But while the sunshine warmed her chilled body, drenching her sun-starved skin and blinding eyes too long accustomed to the dark, no door opened. And minutes later, when the light went out and she was once more standing in the dark, hope shattered around her cold, bare feet.

  There was no escape. Not this way.

  And if not through a sunbeam, then how? She was so hungry.

  The crushing disappointment weighed on her until it was all she could do not to sink to the ground and give in to the tears. But tears wouldn’t get her out of Vamp City. And there had to be a way out.

  How many times had she come to a point in a computer game where there appeared to be no way to win? She’d never given up because she’d known, if she searched long enough, she’d find it. There was always a way to win. She’d find it this time, too.

  The snap of a twig had her heart rate skyrocketing. Her eyes had yet to adjust to the dark again, and the thought of something out there that she couldn’t see had her blood running cold.

  Slowly, her vision began to return, and when it did, she knew she was no longer alone. Dark forms dotted the hillside, standing between the trees.

  Wolves. At least seven giant gray wolves.

  The blood drained from her face.

  “Werewolves,” a female voice said a short distance behind her, making her jump. Too late, she realized that by standing in the sunlight, she’d undoubtedly made herself visible to anyone within a mile radius.

  Lily glanced over her shoulder, not wanting to take her eyes off the wolves for too long, and caught a glimpse of a woman who looked to be close to middle-aged, at least midthirties. She wore a gown similar to Lily’s, colorless in the twilight, and nondescript. Her hair, twisted into a knot at the nape of her neck, lacked a Slava’s glow, but the belt around her waist, laden with a sword, hunting knife, and what appeared to be an old-fashioned waterskin, gave her the appearance of someone who’d been here a long, long time. As did the bow she held to her face, an arrow cocked and aimed at the nearest wolf.

  Unless the Traders had snatched a survivalist off the streets of D.C., this woman was no freshie. Instinct told Lily she’d been here a while. Long enough to turn Slava, if she was human.

  So if she wasn’t human, what was she?

  Vampire.

  Lily watched the wolves, the saliva dripping from mouths lined with sharp, deadly teeth, and wondered if they, or the woman at her back, posed the greatest threat.

  “They’re starving,” the woman added quietly, as if hearing her thoughts. “And you’re fresh, tender meat. It’s your choice—stay here and become dinner, or come with me.”

  Lily’s body rocked from the force of her heart’s thundering beats. It seemed she was about to become someone’s dinner. But the vampire didn’t have to kill her to feed from her. The wolves did.

  Without a word, she turned and hurried toward the woman.

  “She is mine,” the woman called to the wolves. Several snarled. One howled. But to Lily’s surprise, they made no move to attack. Was it possible that seven werewolves were really afraid of one vampire? And what did that say about Lily’s own chances of survival?

  She supposed she was about to find out.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Quinn paced the demolished living room of the safe house, clean now, after she’d picked up the mess she’d made while practicing her magic again this morning. Using the focusing technique Arturo had shown her last night, she was able to pull the power with more and more predictability. But whether the ability to throw chairs equated to the power to renew Vamp City’s magic, she didn’t know.

  She glanced at her watch as she paced. It was after one o’clock. A short while ago, Mukdalla had brought her lunch and assured her that Zack was fine, that he and Jason had been in the gym almost nonstop since dawn. Quinn supposed it was as good a way for him to spend the time as any.

  The low rumble vibrating in the floorboards made her freeze. Hoofbeats.

  Her gaze flew to Kassius, who stood by the window.

  “Arturo, returns,” he told her. But as she started toward the door, he held up a warning hand. “Wait, Quinn. It’s possible he’s not alone. I can’t tell.”

  But moments later, Arturo strode into the house. He acknowledged his friend with a nod even as he strode directly to her, swept her into his arms, and kissed her hard.

  She kissed him back, feeling the tension in his hard body slowly ease. Finally, he pulled back, and she watched him with concern.

  “What was that for?”

  “I was in need of your sunshine, cara.” He curved his arm around her waist and pulled her hard against his side as he turned to Kassius. “You understated it, Kas. ‘Off the rails’ does not begin to describe what I saw this morning. He is completely losing it.”

  Kassius’s eyes were grave. “He gets worse by the day. What’s his plan?”

  “He is not concerned with Quinn’s renewing the magic today. After the tale I spun, he’s convinced she can renew it at any time.”

  Quinn watched him, curious. “What did you tell him?”

  “That I watched you escape back into the real world through a sunbeam. He’s ordered Zack found as a lure. I told him you were looking for him, Kas.” Arturo searched her face. “Any more uncontrolled blasts?”

  “No. I’ve been practicing, and I’m getting better.”

  “Good.” He placed a soft, lingering kiss on her temple, then pulled away. “It is time to join the others.”

  The ride to Neo’s was quick and uneventful. Quinn found Zack at the dining table sitting across from Jason, a massive half-eaten ham and turkey sandwich in his hands. His face was flushed, almost beet red, his hair damp with perspiration. His eyes, when he looked up at her, were sharp and bright, if disturbingly silver.

  “Hi, sis. How’s the training going?”

  “Surprisingly well.”

  “Want to give me a demonstration?”

  She gave him a wry smile. “Since my forte seems to be throwing and destroying things, I don’t think Neo would appreciate it. At least not in the house.” She sat beside him, resisting the urge to feel his forehead again. She could tell just by looking that his skin was burning. “How’s your training going?” she asked, keeping her voice even with effort.

  “Good,” he mumbled around a bite of sandwich, then swallowed. He grinned as if he felt perfectly fine. Clearly, he did. “I’m getting stronger. Faster than I should.”

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Jason said. “Maybe it’s the magic fever, I don’t know, but he’s doubling his reps every time he lifts the weights.”

  Zack released his hold on one end of his sandwich to lift his fist and make a muscle. And, for the first time in his life, he had one. More than one. He wasn’t bulked out by any means, but her brother’s scrawny arms were no longer scrawny, after only two days of weight training.

  “That’s amazing.” But she couldn’t quite mask the worry in her tone. Building muscle that quickly wasn’t natural. Neither was burning up with a fever that should have already killed him.

  “Can I get you something, Quinn?”

  Quinn shook h
er head at the sound of Mukdalla’s voice. “No thank you, I’ll get it myself.” She found the sideboard set out with deli meats and cheeses, and made herself a quick and simple ham sandwich on white bread with a light smear of mustard.

  She joined her brother but had taken only a couple of bites when Zack jumped up from the table. He gripped her shoulder. “Tell me before you leave for the Focus, Quinn. I’ll be in the gym, Jason, whenever you’re ready. I want to try some more fighting moves.” He strode out of the room, a confidence in his step that Quinn had never seen.

  The ex-Marine met Quinn’s gaze. “He’s going to wear me out.”

  Amanda, coffee mug in her hand, joined them, and Quinn turned to her. “What’s going on with Zack?”

  She frowned. “Honestly, I’m not sure. His body is changing much faster than should be possible. And his temperature continues to rise.”

  “What’s it, now?”

  Amanda hesitated. “High.”

  “How high?”

  “Almost 112.”

  Quinn gaped at her. “He should be dead.”

  “Yes.” Amanda covered Quinn’s hand with hers. “You need to be prepared.”

  A searing pain spread through Quinn’s chest at the certain knowledge that at any moment, Zack’s body could fail beneath the unnatural heat. Any moment, he could die.

  “He’ll be okay,” she said, as much for her own benefit as the doctor’s. “Once I renew Vamp City, he’ll be fine.” She had to believe that because the alternative was unthinkable.

  Amanda nodded.

  “Jason!” Zack called. “You coming?”

  “I’m coming!” Jason smiled ruefully though his eyes remained heavy with concern. “I don’t think I’ve ever had quite such an enthusiastic recruit. He’s a fine young man, Quinn.”

  As Jason went to join Zack, Amanda cradled her coffee mug and peered at Quinn. “Are you okay?”

  Quinn nodded though the real answer was no, and they both knew it. She wouldn’t be okay until Zack was healthy again.

  Quinn finished her sandwich in silence as Amanda wandered away. She was just rising when Arturo and Micah strode into the room.