“Believe it or not, mon ami, I do understand.”
Philippe set his gaze on Drago’s. “Perhaps. If that’s true, then sing no chant du cygne for me. No swan song. No death song.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.” But there was no finality in the word, no peace. And the flicker of defiance had not been snuffed.
Philippe lunged at him before Drago could heed the warning in the vampire’s eyes. Philippe clamped his hands on the wooden post, nearly wrenching it from Drago’s grasp before Drago could tighten his hold. Both men twisted and tugged, spinning around and fighting for a strong foothold on the uneven ground. No longer was it a contest of disciplines or mind power or psychological gamesmanship. It had come down to raw physical strength, endurance, and will. Drago’s eyesight blurred with bloodlust, and he fought on the instinct of the beast alone.
His exhaustion, the burn of the silver wounds, and all the ennui that had gripped his mind for so many years faded into the backdrop. Drago planted his feet and whacked Philippe to the ground with the square post’s flat side. The quick movement nearly tore the post from his hands, though, and Drago was forced to fall on Philippe to maintain his grip. He raised the post to Philippe’s neck and pressed downward, trying to choke the man. Philippe clenched his teeth and pushed up, and Drago could see the muscles in Philippe’s neck tighten and strain with the effort.
Drago reversed his energy, pulling up on the post and catching Philippe off guard. Drago immediately slammed the post down again. Philippe cried out, but when Drago lifted the post for another blow, his opponent was ready. Philippe shifted his grip and propelled the tablet portion of the marker against Drago’s head. A splintering of wood echoed through Drago’s head, and he felt himself reeling to the ground, his hands free. He rolled and saw the business end of the post dive straight for him. He rolled again, feeling the post being driven into the ground mere inches away. His momentum carried him away from the weapon, yet he tried to lunge back to it. His fingers just grazed the painted wood when Philippe snatched the post, bereft now of the tablet marker, and yanked it out of the ground.
Philippe stood above him, his feet wide apart and the post securely in his grasp. “How does the truth of the final hour feel after so many centuries of cheating death, Drago?”
The one advantage to not holding the weapon was that Drago’s hands were free. He whipped his arm out, turned his wrist, and just as quickly pulled his hand back to his chest. Philippe’s feet jerked out from under him as if pulled by invisible strings, and he landed with a heavy thud on his back. Before Philippe could regain his feet, Drago straddled him and wrapped his fingers around the wood. He twisted the post up and over in a hooking motion and broke Philippe’s grip. “I’ll cheat death a little longer, but you, mon ami . . . a la mort!”
With that Drago raised the post and thrust the pointed end into Philippe’s heart. A shriek of agony burst from Philippe’s lips, followed by a more subdued death groan. Drago kept his hands on the post to prevent the vampire from removing it with the last of his energy . “You sing you own chant du cygne, mon ami, but I will cant no death song for you. I leave that to the invisible choir. May your lost soul join them in peace.”
Philippe’s glassy eyes focused on his, and an understanding of sorts bridged the chasm between their minds which were, after all, not so disparate. Philippe’s hands fell from the post, and his head lolled to the side, his eyes still open, but unseeing. The improvised stake had effectively severed the heart. Drago dragged the body into full sunlight and watched. The light, no longer held at bay by the unique animating power of the day vampire, consumed the body as it would any Undead flesh. The body first reddened, and wisps of smoke accompanied the stench of burning flesh. Then the body ignited like a piece of meat left on a grill too long and slowly blackened. Finally, when the sun had done its work, nothing was left but gray ash, and this, little by little, was snatched by the breeze and carried off.
Drago had dispatched many a vampire with relish and no remorse, but he felt no joy at Philippe’s death. In spite of everything the man had done to conspire against him, Drago had known him for many decades, as a partner and faithful ally.
Soon, though, Drago’s thoughts turned to the living—Marya, Adelle and Scott, who owed him more than one explanation. It was for Adelle he was most fearful. He hadn’t had time to check on her condition, and his last glimpse of her had shown her prone on the ground. As exhausted as he was, he forced his legs into a run and was back to the van in less than a minute.
The scene hadn’t changed. Adelle was still lying on the ground, with Scott kneeling to one side of her and Marya at her other. Drago met Marya’s gaze, and the despair and helplessness that swam in the pools of her dark eyes told him enough. He looked to Scott.
The younger vampire rose and met him a few yards from Adelle. “I’m sorry, Drago. There was nothing I could do. Her neck’s broken. I couldn’t risk moving her, not even to the van. She’s been waiting for you. It’s all that’s kept her alive. I’m glad you made it.”
Drago nodded, but made no answer, replacing Scott at Adelle’s side.
Scott took Marya’s arm. “Come, Marya. Let’s leave them alone.”
Marya rose silently, and there was suddenly nothing in Drago’s world but the woman in front of him. He bent his head down to her, his face only inches from hers. “I’m so sorry, ma chere. So sorry.”
“Don’t be, Leksii. You were right all along—I shouldn’t have come. But I have no regrets. There have never been any regrets, ever. I could ask for no better life than loving you.” Her once vibrant voice was feeble and faint, and the sound of it tore at him more than the sight of her broken body on the ground.
He leaned even closer and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “These past forty years have only been bearable because of you, mon chou,” he whispered. He pulled his head back and frowned. “I’ve gotten blood on you.”
“It’s of no matter. But Leksii, they’re silver wounds. They won’t repair unless you take what you need. I can heal you. Please let me, Leksii. It’s the only thing I ask. I took a vow long ago to serve you in any way possible, including to die for you. Let me keep that vow.”
“Adelle . . .”
“Please, do it now. Do it now. Take all you need.”
He could let her suffer no more. Leaning forward again, he held his mouth at her ear. “Close your eyes and rest now, my love. You will be at peace, I promise.”
He lowered his mouth and did as she had bade him.
Twenty
WHEN IT WAS OVER, Drago sat next to her body, lost in a place of blessed insensibility. Her blood had taken his physical pain away, and he rested his mind in a similar nirvana. The unfinished business, however, finally prodded him back to reality. “Scott.” The name was spoken softly, but Drago knew the vampire would hear it with no trouble.
“Yeah, Drago.”
He could see Scott out of the corner of his eye. Marya was behind him. “I’m going to put her in the van. Get a blanket, will you? If there isn’t one in the van, there should be one in my car.”
“I’ll get it,” said Marya.
Drago gently scooped Adelle’s body into his arms and lifted her off the ground. He carried her effortlessly to the van and eased her to the floor. Behind him, Marya silently held out a blanket. He took it without a word and covered Adelle.
Turning, he faced Marya again. “Are you all right, cherie?”
She nodded. “Your cuts have healed.”
Scott came up behind her. “But you look a bloody, god-awful mess, Drago.” He tossed Drago a wet cloth. “Here. Clean yourself up before you scare a busload of school children to death.”
He washed the blood off his face, getting all of it with Marya’s help, and pulled his T-shirt back on. He tossed the cloth back to Scott. “Merci, mon ami. Now it’s your turn to come cle
an. Who else do I have to worry about? Who else is in this alliance of Philippe’s?”
Scott shook his head. “This was it. Just Chenard, Reno, and myself.”
Drago raised his brows. “Not Evrard Verkist?”
“No. Verkist would have never taken orders from one such as Chenard.”
“And not De Chaux?”
Scott laughed. “God, no. De Chaux has no higher ambition these days than to watch the sun set.”
“And you, Scott? I have to admit, until you recited Voltaire’s quote about praying for ridiculous enemies, you had me fooled. I thought you in league with Philippe. But why? Why join this alliance and then save my life, not once, but twice?”
“Someone will be here in a minute who can answer all your questions, Drago.”
Two minutes later a gold luxury car pulled up behind Reno’s car. A petite, slender woman exited the car, and, with a bride’s slow, regal steps approaching the altar, made her way to the group. She wore a short, white sheath dress and a matching fitted white jacket with gold embroidered flowers. Gold jewelry ringed her neck, wrists, and fingers.
“Ah, I am glad to see you alive and well, Aleksei Borisov. And, of course, you as well, Revelin.”
With all that had transpired this day, Drago should not have been surprised to see Nikolena, but he was. He couldn’t ever remember her coming to the scene of an incident in the States before. “Madame la directrice!”
She waved a dainty hand at him. “Oh, forego the formalities, Alek. All but one. Introduce me to the young lady.” She nodded toward Marya.
Drago motioned for Marya to come closer. “Madame, I am pleased to introduce mademoiselle Marya Jaks of Vicksburg. Marya, this is Nikolena.”
Marya looked uncertain as to whether she should bow or shake hands. In the end, she did neither. “I’m pleased to meet you, madame.”
“The pleasure is mine, mademoiselle Jaks. I’m afraid I have some business to discuss with Aleksei Borisov and Revelin. Would you mind waiting for us?”
Marya looked at Drago before she answered. By the press of her brows, he knew she wasn’t happy about being excluded, but it couldn’t be helped. He nodded to her.
“Of course, madame,” said Marya, turning to Nikolena.
“Let us sit in the auto, then, gentlemen. I don’t relish standing in the sun in this heat.”
They made themselves comfortable in the leather seats of Nikolena’s plush car, and she turned on the air conditioning. “So tell me. What is the price of all this joy?”
Drago took a deep breath. There was nothing to do but put the truth on a plate and in turn swallow the consequences. “Two brothers dead, Philippe and David Reno. And Adelle.”
Nikolena leaned closer to him and put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Aleksei Borisov. I truly am. I know how close you were to your servant.”
“Thank you, Nika.”
She dropped her hand. “Yet there is more than grief dominating your thoughts. I sense you are teeming with questions, Alek.”
“And I sense your hand guiding all the chess pieces here today, madame. Am I wrong?”
She smiled. Not a vampire smile of seduction, but a Nikolena smile of a hundred meanings. “No. The two of you have been my lightning rods for a long time. Alek, you are a magnet for all the crap that flies around the Directorate and Brotherhood. I don’t need to do anything but send you out into the fray. That was the case with Verkist. You were the catalyst for that affair with your many harassing phone calls to Curt Deverick and even Scott here. Scott would have gone with you to Phoenix regardless of my orders, I suspect, because Verkist had his apprentice, Callie Monroe, but Scott did have orders. Simple orders, but not so easy, after all—to make sure you came out of Fata Morgana alive.”
“You assigned me a bodyguard, madame?”
Her dark eyes swept him up and down, seeming to reduce his height by at least a foot. “Don’t sniff at me with your aristocratic nose in the air, Aleksei Borisov. You needed every bit of his help, didn’t you?”
Drago glanced at Scott, who sat alone in the back seat. He felt no antagonism toward the young enforcer. It was simply hard to admit he had needed help. “But I don’t understand this alliance of Scott with Philippe.”
“You’re my lightning rod, Alek, but so is Revelin. The two of you are opposites. While you are the loose cannon, Scott is my hidden ace. He was a common soldier, not a prince like you were. Scott is seen as used to taking orders, a follower, not a leader, yet ambitious—the ideal candidate for an alliance. Scott has been operating under my orders for years. His job was to join any alliance which appeared to have goals and a modus operandi of violence rather than simple mutual aid.”
“Are you saying Scott is your spy, madame?”
She bestowed on him another Nika smile, so small, yet full of so many secrets. A glance back at Scott showed a curve to his usual stoic mouth as well.
“‘Spy?’ Really, Alek. So melodramatic. It is simply that Revelin and I have long had our own alliance. One that takes precedence over any other he may form.”
Drago lowered his brows, trying to make order of all these revelations. “Then both of you knew from the outset that Philippe was responsible for the forged order.”
“No. Philippe was smart. He trusted no one, not even his partners. I began to have my doubts about him at the same time you did, I suspect—following your return from Phoenix.”
Drago turned to Scott. “How did you and Philippe meet? I had never heard of you until this whole affair started.”
“Through David Reno. Before he was transferred to the Coterie, Reno used to work for the Circle with me. Philippe met him when Reno came to Paris.”
“What next, madame? Dare I presume my head is no longer on the chopping block?”
Nikolena unleashed just enough of her power to answer Drago’s question. The air inside the car became charged, and Drago found it hard to draw a breath.
“You are to make no presumptions, Aleksei Borisov. I think the hue and cry for your termination will die a natural death after this. I will make it known in my own way and in my own words what you did to both Verkist and Philippe. There will be no mention at all of Scott. You, my sweet, will keep your pretty mouth shut. If you ever make any mention to anyone of Scott’s role here today, you will answer to me. A small price to pay for the enhancement of your reputation, don’t you agree? Are we understood, Alek?”
The royal ‘we.’ He understood. “Oui, madame.”
“Good. Revelin, why don’t you keep mademoiselle Jaks company for awhile? She looks anxious, and I have a private matter to discuss with Aleksei.”
“Got it.”
Both Nikolena and Drago waited until Scott opened the car door, slid out of the back seat, and was gone with a slam.
“The girl, Alek. She both knows and has seen too much.”
He said nothing.
“She has vampire blood, yes?”
“Yes.” Drago knew what was coming, but could no more stop the next words than he could stop Philippe’s assault.
“She has to die, Aleksei Borisov.”
“I won’t allow it, madame.” There was no hesitation on his part. If she threw a fit, so be it.
But she didn’t. There was no lightning bolt drawn from the heavens, only a long, drawn out sigh. “You fought so hard to survive against Verkist and Chenard. You would throw it all away for this mortal?”
Everything became clear for him in that moment. He suddenly knew that he would not have had the strength to prevail against either Evrard Verkist or Philippe if Marya hadn’t been there. Nikolena could make all the threats in the world, but he would neither kill her himself nor permit anyone else to harm her.
“I throw nothing away, madame. It is what I keep that matters.”
“Do you know what
you’re saying, Alek? Are you so certain of her that you would risk all? You make the supreme sacrifice if you are, and there’s no turning back.”
“I know what I’m doing, Nika.”
He felt Nikolena’s penetrating dark eyes burn all the way through him, searching for the truth he saw. After a moment, she nodded. “Very well. I give you until tonight. Sentence will be passed then, Aleksei Borisov. You will pay, and it will be dear.”
MARYA SAT IN Drago’s car, unable to see what was happening two vehicles back. It was just as well. She closed her eyes, hoping to be able to cry. She would welcome the emotional release, but tears wouldn’t come. She didn’t know what had been worse, watching helplessly as Philippe had cut Drago with the Vampire Hunter, or waiting with Rev and the injured Adelle, praying that Drago would be victorious and return before Adelle lost her fight to hang on. Both events left her numb now, and she knew it still wasn’t over.
She couldn’t think about what might happen next. She didn’t want to think at all. She tried to blank her mind and just relax.
A tap at the window, for all its gentleness, was an appeal she didn’t really feel like responding to. But she opened her eyes. It was Revelin. She opened the door.
He flashed her a view of even, white teeth, and the engaging smile was almost enough to lead her past his eyes. She waited.
“Want some company?”
“Will you answer some questions for me?”
His smile widened. “Probably not, but you can ask.”
She really wanted to be alone, but the possibility that even one of the small mysteries plaguing her mind might be solved was too powerful a lure to say no. She nodded. “A walk in the shade, then?” she suggested.
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