Afterimage

by Jaye Roycraft

  “No, madame.”

  Her black eyes burned with a cold fire, the only spots of darkness in a vision of gold and light. “You have no friends, Aleksei Borisov, none. Every Directorate member I’ve spoken with has called for your termination.”

  So. There it was. All the years of doing as he pleased had had a price, and now he was being charged. And the payment would be his life. “I am in your hands, as always, Nika. All I ask is that you listen to the story from my point of view.”

  She sighed. “Very well, Alek. Your service over the years has earned you that much.”

  So over the next hour he told her everything—Marya’s dhampir heritage, the forged order reversing her status delivered by Scott, her attempt on his own life, Scott’s denial of wrongdoing, and the visit in the night of the two strange vampires. When he was done, it was Nikolena’s turn to be silent.

  “Many may hate me, Nika, but I think it’s only one person who truly wants me dead. If he cannot conspire to kill me outright, he will start a campaign in the Directorate to vilify me until the mob mentality takes over and everyone calls for my head, including you. If this one person has in fact won you to his side, then I am lost.”

  “I am not so easily swayed as all that.” She studied his face again. “You’re tired, Alek. I can see it in your eyes without even looking into your mind. Answer me one question. Do you want to live?”

  Do I want to live? He thought back again to everything that had happened during the past week, and his answer was there—across an ocean of time and space. “Oui, madame. Je veux vivre.”

  “Excellent. I think perhaps for once we are not at cross-purposes. I have one more assignment for you, Aleksei Borisov. If you are successful, I promise you that the mewling of all your detractors will be silenced. If you fail, your enemy will have won, and the repercussions will rock the Directorate as nothing ever has.”

  Another assignment? “Madame, I promised to return to Jackson.”

  “Did I not just offer you one last chance to live? You dare to object? Be silent and listen to me!” She stood and glided to the tall bank of windows that overlooked the lawns surrounding the chateau. The vista was dark. The only lights that vied with that of a sliver moon were a few garden lamps and the series of lights along the drive that, from the height of the window, looked like lustrous pearls strung on a curving necklace. “Stand beside me, Alek, and listen.” The voice that was so strident a moment ago was as soft and beckoning as a lover’s.

  He stepped to her side, close, but not touching. The top of her pale head didn’t even reach his shoulder, yet there was no mistaking the power that radiated from her petite body.

  She stared out into the night. “The Brotherhood is rotten at its core, Alek. I’ve long known it, even before you began filing your complaints of ineptitude. I have suspected for quite some time that one of the high-ranking Brotherhood officials has been ascending the hierarchy by forbidden means. This man is powerful, Alek, and so far I’ve got no solid proof. You are to expose him, secure the proof I need, and, if possible, deliver him to me. However, if that is not possible and you have to destroy him . . .”

  Drago understood. It was a fight to the death. “Je comprends, madame. Merci.”

  Nikolena sighed. “Don’t thank me, Alek. I may well be sending you to your death after all. This man has all the manpower he needs at his disposal, while you have . . .”

  “Only myself. I know.”

  “You will need help on this one, I’m afraid. I’m assigning you an apprentice.”

  This he had to protest. An apprentice would be worse than no help at all. “Madame, I work alone. I always have, you know that.”

  “Not this time. I’m dedicating Revelin Scott to you, for however long this takes.”

  “Scott? But . . .”

  She held up a dainty, bejeweled hand. “Save your objections. I know. He doesn’t like you. I’m sure the feeling is mutual. However, we’ve already discussed his merits. He’s strong, and he’ll do as you order. Come now. You must have some faith in him, else you never would have left your precious cargo in his charge.”

  She had a point, but not one he wanted to concede. Still, he knew objecting would only bring her wrath.

  “Very well, madame, I will do as you ask.”

  “Good.” She paused, and turned to him. “Aleksei Borisov, hear me. I have no one else who can do this. Not a one of my other enforcers has your strength, abilities, or your unique talent for getting a job done. I need you for this. Don’t let me down. Or yourself.”

  He had rarely heard Nikolena admit her fondness for him in words. He answered her with his eyes.

  “Just remember. This time, make sure you have your proof before you go killing anyone.”

  Drago smiled. For every caress there was a cuff.

  “I have you booked on tomorrow’s Concorde. Philippe has your orders.” She held out her hand, the signal that he was being dismissed.

  He took her delicate fingers in his and lightly kissed the back of her hand. “Madame la directrice, I will not fail.”

  AS TIRED AS SHE was, Marya slept fitfully. She woke briefly several times, but finally awakened, rolled over, and failed to fall back asleep. I’m still alive. And she was sleeping in a strange vampire’s house. If the thought alone wasn’t enough to urge her from the bed, the closeness of the room was. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. It was like sleeping in a mortuary, except that the corpses were all still walking around.

  She slid from the bed, feeling dirty in the clothes she had slept in. The house was very quiet. She padded to the window. Revelin’s car was still parked in back. Feeling a little more secure, she used the bathroom across the hall to wash her face, comb her hair, and straighten her outfit. She then descended the stairs, taking a peek into the living room. Room-darkening shades and heavy drapes wrapped the room in a comfortable semidarkness, as if allowing its occupants a peaceful respite during the warmest hours of the day. She couldn’t see Revelin, though, and for a brief moment she wondered if he would leave her there all alone. Don’t be silly, she thought. His car was still there.

  “Revelin?” The sound of his name was no louder than a whisper.

  “Down here, Miss Jaks.”

  With relief, she followed the sound to the kitchen. Revelin sat at a desk in the strangest kitchen Marya had ever seen. There was a countertop, sink, and cupboards, but no stove, refrigerator, dishwasher, or any other usual kitchen appliances. There was only the desk, cluttered with a laptop surrounded by papers, a few chairs, and a file cabinet.

  He looked up at her as she entered. “Have a seat.”

  She sat down, and maybe it was the room, or the lack of what it held, but suddenly Marya was ravenous. “Listen, I hate to keep bothering you with this, but can you order me some takeout?”

  He stared at her.

  “Food.” It was but one more reminder of how foreign the world was that she had unwillingly entered when she had awakened a week ago and found Drago sitting in her boudoir chair. But Revelin was gracious, and within an hour, fried chicken, biscuits, and soda were delivered to the door. She finished eating, cleaned the corner of the desk she had appropriated, and looked at Revelin. He was immersed once more in his work.

  “Revelin . . .” She paused and bit down on her lip. “Is it all right if I watch TV?”

  “Be my guest.”

  She wandered back into the living room and turned on the set. There wasn’t much on that interested her, but she welcomed the distracting noise. The last thing she wanted to do was brood over Drago. It had been on the tip of her tongue to ask Revelin about Drago and why all the Undead hated him, but at the last instant she had kept quiet. Now, bored by the television, she was sorry she hadn’t asked her questions. A little truth about Drago might counteract the illogical ache she still felt at the thought of n
ever seeing him again.

  A few hours later Callie and Revelin glided forward and were standing in front of Marya before she realized they had entered the room. Callie’s pretty face wore a frown that was part puzzlement and part annoyance. Marya had little hope that the expression was solely due to waking up on the wrong side of the coffin.

  Revelin looked tired and no happier. His introductions were brief. “Drago’s orders. Our charge, Marya Jaks. Marya, Callie Monroe, my assistant.”

  A tight smile pulled unflattering creases around Callie’s mouth, making her look suddenly older. “Excuse us, please,” she said.

  The two vanished as quickly as they had materialized, and Marya could hear angry voices from the kitchen. Callie was clearly not pleased to wake up and find a mortal cozily entrenched in front of her television set. As if any of this is my idea.

  The shouting died down, and Callie reappeared without Revelin. She was wearing a red-paisley print, sleeveless mini-dress. A rather nauseating complement, Marya thought, to Revelin’s retro styling.

  Callie’s smile was broader this time, but looked no more sincere. “I’m sorry, Miss Jaks . . .”

  Marya interrupted with a smile of her own. “Oh, Marya, please. After all, I’ve been enjoying your hospitality.”

  “Yes . . . you have. I hope you can appreciate that this is a little out of the ordinary for me.”

  “Believe me, Miss Monroe, I am certainly not here by choice.”

  Callie sank onto one of the sofas. “I would be very interested to hear how all this came about.”

  Marya figured that telling the story couldn’t hurt and would only help to pass the time, so she related the incidents of the past week. Finally, as midnight approached, Marya went upstairs. She didn’t think she’d be able to sleep after having slept most of the day, but she could only stand so much of Callie. The woman was a very young vampire and, as such, had a most disagreeable odor about her.

  Marya drifted in and out of sleep. She heard an endless series of sounds, but to Marya, in her semiconscious state, those born of dreams were indistinguishable from those rooted in reality. Footsteps and voices came to her. She heard a car door slam, and a car engine started up with a rumble. An alarm sounded and startled Marya, but as soon as she woke and sat up, all was quiet. She waited a moment, then eased out of the bed and stepped to the window. Revelin’s car was gone. She dressed quickly and edged the door ajar. Voices floated up the staircase to her—strange voices. Suddenly she felt as if she had just run a very long race. Her heart pounded, and she fought to get enough air into her lungs. Surely Drago couldn’t be back already. Even if he could be, she hadn’t heard his unique French accent. Where was Revelin? She told herself it was just some Brotherhood meeting, but even as she did, her feet took her down the hallway and away from the stairs. She quickly checked the other rooms, but they were either like hers, furnished simply, or used for storage. She examined every window, but all were closed tight. There was nowhere to go. She felt a soft vibration on the staircase, and Callie appeared before her.

  Her dark eyes were like a doll’s—round and slightly unfocused. “We have to go, Marya. Quickly.”

  Marya’s heart still thudded in her ears. “Why? What’s happened?”

  “Rev wants us out of here. It’s not safe.”

  “Who’s downstairs?”

  Callie didn’t answer. “Come on. There isn’t time.”

  Marya grabbed her bag from her bedroom and immediately regretted not taking a shower. She still felt sullied from sleeping in the vampire’s bed, and now it seemed she must travel like this. She followed Callie downstairs. Two men waited. They were dressed casually and looked to be in their late twenties or early thirties, but neither one bore a friendly expression on his face. She assumed they were vampires, but at first she couldn’t be sure. Callie’s strong scent overpowered any vampiric stench the two men might exude. Her appraising gaze found each of theirs in turn, and glittering, cold eyes stared back at her. Vampire eyes. They weren’t blue, like Drago’s or Revelin’s, but the emptiness was similar. It wasn’t a blank look, or an uncomprehending one. They were simply windows, not to a soul, but to a very dark place.

  “Callie, I think we should wait for Revelin to return.”

  It was one of the men who answered. “Let’s go. We’re going to take you to Scott now.”

  Marya hesitated. If they had wished her harm, wouldn’t she now be dead? And Callie was agreeing with them. Perhaps they were friends of Revelin’s. Just because they weren’t friendly didn’t mean anything. She was being paranoid. She picked up her bag and allowed the men to escort her to a waiting van, but as soon as she entered the rear of a panel van with Callie and saw the doors being locked, she knew it was all very wrong.

  Ten

  DRAGO RETURNED to his chateau still buoyed by the confidence that had flooded him when he had vowed to Nikolena that he would not fail. In the back of the sleek limousine he swiftly reviewed his orders. It truly appeared that la directrice’s assignment and his own quest were connected. He would not have to break his word to return to Marya. And if the corruption led all the way to Evrard Verkist and he could not be stopped any other way, Nikolena had sanctioned death.

  Adelle was still waiting up for him when he arrived, and he gave her a long embrace. “Nikolena has stayed the drop of the blade, Delle,” he whispered. “Come. I have to make a call, then I’ll tell you all about it.”

  Once in his private quarters, the Russian Room, Drago took off his rubakha, handed it to Adelle, and dropped to a long, low divan. He called Revelin Scott’s number on his phone and waited, finally getting nothing but a voice mail message.

  “Zut!” Drago sprang to his feet and began wearing a path on the Oriental carpet.

  “What is it?” Adelle quickly put the garment away and moved closer to Drago, though she made no attempt to match his pacing stride for stride.

  “Scott’s not answering his phone.”

  She gave him a blank look.

  “I charged him with mademoiselle Jaks’ safety.”

  Adelle’s unchanged expression told him that he hadn’t enlightened her at all. She pulled him back down to the divan and sat next to him, a restraining arm imploring him to sit still long enough to tell her the story. He gave her an abbreviated version of the week’s events.

  It took her less than one minute to digest the tale. “Tell me. Is this Marya the reason you had me send all the girls away?”

  He quirked a brow at her. “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s an aberration.”

  “Leksii, you can lie to everyone else in the world, but when you can’t tell me the truth I know you’re not being truthful with yourself, either.”

  He gave her a hard look he knew she didn’t deserve, but his anger begged an outlet. “The girls bore me. It’s as simple as that.”

  “And this one girl does not.”

  He punched Scott’s number again. There was still no answer.

  “Drago, there’s no sense in worrying. There could be a hundred reasons why he doesn’t answer. There’s no way faster than the Concorde, so there’s nothing to be done right now. Get some sleep so you’re ready for tomorrow.” She stroked his arm, but, unlike Nikolena, she was careful not to venture too close to where his bared chest rose and fell in the center opening of his shirt. Ever since Adelle had made the decision many years ago to stop sharing his bed, she was careful not to touch him in any way that could be construed as sexually provocative.

  He covered her hand with his own. “You’re right, as usual, mon chou. What would I do without you and Philippe? The two of you brave the world for me.”

  She smiled. “Oh, it’s easy for me. I’m sheltered here behind these walls. It’s poor Philippe who must weather the daily storms.”

  “Even so, I value your loyalty no less.” He leaned over to kiss her
on the cheek, the most, other than an embrace or touch of his hand, that she would accept from him. “Make sure I’m awake in plenty of time for the noon flight.”

  “I will.” She turned her hand to clasp his, and she sat there like that for a long moment before she pulled away and left the room.

  Drago knew he had to rise in just a few short hours for his flight, but relaxation came hard. Was his assignment over before it had begun? Were Marya and Scott already dead? His incense over the possibility of Marya’s death wasn’t anything he was able to rationalize to himself any more than he could explain it to Adelle. Why should he care about an aberration? Her birth had made them enemies, and he couldn’t forget she had tried to kill him. He fell back on the reason he had given Scott—that he had been the one to give her life, and he would see to it that she had it. It was an egocentric explanation, but right now egotism was something his vampire’s tired and agitated mind could accept and understand.

  DRAGO ARRIVED IN New York just before ten in the morning, local time. He tried Scott’s number again, for the countless time.

  “Scott.”

  Surprise almost had Drago speechless. Almost. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling for the better part of twelve hours with no answer!”

  “Drago.” There was no surprise in the acknowledgment, but Drago could hear weariness and what almost sounded like resignation. “Never mind that now,” continued Scott. “You may as well hear it right off. Callie and Marya have vanished.”

  It was all his fears come true, but rage ruled his response, for rage was a much more comfortable emotion than sorrow. “Vanished, monsieur? What do you mean, vanished? Weren’t you with them?”

  “I left Marya with Callie at her house. I had to go back to the office. I was only gone a half hour. When I returned, they were both gone.”

  Drago lowered his voice. “You left Marya with an apprentice?”

  “Listen, Drago, I’m as upset about this as you are. Callie’s been with me twenty years. I know that’s not a long time, but she’s more important to me than any mortal, and I . . .”