by Mary Hughes
“Giuseppe is not your Master, bitch.” His words struck like sledgehammers. “You’d do well to remember that.”
Her eyes flinched. “I’m your lieutenant, deserving of respect—”
“Respect is earned. You’ve allowed yourself to be captured and brought traitors into my home.”
“They forced me,” she squeaked. “But…but they made a mistake, bringing me here. Let me at them, Master, I’ll show them what it means to cross you.”
“Bring it,” Aiden said.
“A duel?” Nosferatu’s red eyes narrowed. “I like that. Kill them, then.”
I’d been waiting for an opening to make my pitch. But the way things were flushing, no pauses were on the menu… Menu. Me, with Chianti. Brrrr.
I shook it off. I’d have to make my own opening, quick, despite being fava beans in the dark.
“Wait!” I took a bold step forward, secretly praying I wouldn’t crash into a chair or table and fall on my face. For a change, my little bit of sizzle worked. Heartened, I planted fists on hips. “This ends, and it ends now.”
“Silence, food.”
“Nice try, Hemoglobin Breath. But you don’t scare me.”
“I ought to. I ought to scare you to death,” snarled his voice right in my ear.
Yipes. I crossed my arms, playing casual but really to keep my heart from leaping out of my chest. My bowels were quietly shedding their lining. “Nice trick. I bet you’re great fun at parties.” Happily, my voice didn’t squeak.
“Bah. I’ve had enough.” His footsteps stomped away. “You are all dead.”
“Then kiss goodbye to what you want most in the world.”
Dead silence.
I mean absolute silence.
Nosferatu’s eyes reappeared, tilted, as if he’d turned back to consider me. “Very well. You have exactly thirty seconds to interest me. Talk.”
Wow. Sizzle really was important. It had gotten my foot in the door.
But now I had to deliver. I had to convince this refugee from a grade B Dracula movie that my idea was worth his while. Which actually might take even more razzle-dazzle than getting my foot in the door.
My heart bumped unevenly, ba-lump dum dum. Could I do it? I’d long denied, even hated, that part of me that was sizzle. Maybe it had atrophied or even died.
Maybe I shouldn’t attempt this. Or fall back on logic. That was a skill I knew I still had…no, I’d cratered at the presentation with Camille and Chicken Little.
Argh. If not sizzle and not skill, then what?
Then I remembered Elena. Hopeless. Dying. Yet she’d hung on for her baby’s sake, long enough for Nikos and the Ancient One to save her.
Sometimes skill doesn’t do it. Sometimes logic fails. Then all you have is friends, and hope.
And being damned obstinate.
Ric’s hand found mine and squeezed. The pulse conveyed his love and confidence in me.
The best sizzle of all. Love.
I talked.
“Here’s the thing, Nosy. If you kill me, if you destroy Ric and Aiden, you’ll be throwing away your only chance to find Eloise.” I put a deliberate emphasis on her name, not to manipulate him emotionally but so that he’d know exactly how high the stakes were. “Unless you want the wrong people to find her.”
“What are you talking about?” He blustered it.
I wished I could see his face, but still having my viscera on the inside was a good sign. “The world is shrinking. Someone will figure it out. How many people know about your bat birthmark? You used to boast about it so I’d guess quite a few. Are you sure she’s still hiding hers?”
Silence.
I pressed my point. “You need to find Eloise before they do. You need to find her now.”
“Who’s Eloise?” Camille asked brightly.
I had a brief irrational urge to hug her. Even though she often played the sex pot card, she wasn’t stupid. Nosferatu would hear the eager interest in her voice. He’d know the clock was ticking on his secret. On his daughter.
Click. A flood of golden light came from a small desk lamp. I blinked. After the total darkness even the mellow light was harsh.
Flocked wallpaper, overstuffed leather furniture and a wet bar padded with quilted leather were revealed. It was a study like Ric’s but bloated—a handsome face gone puffy with overindulgence.
Nosferatu stood at the bar, pouring himself a drink. He was taller than in his portrait, and slender instead of spindly. Another facet of vampire physiology, maybe. He’d purged himself of his humanity, but in two hundred years something had made up for part of it. Damn, I really hoped I lived long enough to study all of that. Like, longer than the next ten minutes.
With his neatly barbered silver hair, suit and sweater vest, Nosferatu was almost dapper. But while his form was elegant, his features were coarse and bold, bushy black eyebrows and eyes now snapping black.
Sure enough, there was that small bat birthmark on his cheek.
Drink in hand, he sauntered toward us. Aiden gripped Camille more tightly. Ric stepped in front of me. I had to work not to back up, but Nosferatu only stopped beside Camille to pat her shoulder. “Time for you to leave, my dear.”
She smiled coyly. “But Master—”
“Now.”
Her eyes closed and I could see her seethe. When her eyes opened again they were blood red. “Yes, Master.” Her voice was cold enough to freeze helium.
She turned her frigid glare on Aiden. “Well?”
He cocked his head, considering Nosferatu, then nodded and released her.
“Oh, Camille,” Nosferatu said. “You will return my portrait and forget you ever heard the name Eloise.”
She jerked. Shook her head as if trying to clear it. After a few blinks she held her arms out to Ric, stiffly. He tossed her the key to the handcuffs.
She snatched it midair and swept out without another word.
“Now,” Nosferatu said. “Come to the point, puny human.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Puny human, indeed. “You can’t scare me with verbal jabs.”
His brow rose in mock surprise. “Yet you try to manipulate me with fear.”
“No. You have a problem, I have a solution.”
“That benefits you, no doubt.”
“Just listen, okay? You want to find Eloise. You can’t risk lieutenants or minions finding her; they might see her birthmark and figure out why she’s so important to you. Besides, they’re not as good as Ric and Aiden, are they? I’d guess these two are among the best trackers in the world.”
He sniffed. “I don’t know about the best in the world—”
“Certainly they’re the very best outside the Iowa Alliance.”
“So?” Nosferatu drawled, but his eyes sharpened on me. I’d hit a bull’s eye with that one.
“So, bring them in as consultants, to find your daughter. In exchange, you promise to drop your vendetta against them and stay away from their humans and their territory. Simple.” Eloise, by her pink signal, didn’t want to be found. But we needed breathing space. We’d figure something out. “Remember, it’ll take time, even for them.”
“Naturally.” Sarcasm dripped from Nosferatu’s tones. “Years will go by while you pretend to seek her, in reality fortifying your position.”
“You haven’t found her in decades. Give them a couple months at least.” Not as much as I’d hoped for. I cut eyes to Ric. You onboard with this?
Yes. His azure gaze twinkled. You’re better at sizzle than you think.
My face heated.
“Interesting offer.” Nosferatu tossed off his drink. “But why should I? Now that Holiday’s within reach of my voice, I can compel him to find her.”
“Except I’m immune,” I said. “I’ll remind him of the truth.”
The vampire’s eyes narrowed at me. “Then I will simply invade Holiday’s territory and command him that way.”
“If you even try, I’ll destroy you.” Ric’s voice wa
s low, angry.
“Don’t be absurd.” Nosferatu returned to the bar, pulled the stopper out of a cut crystal whiskey decanter and waved it at Ric. “You’re nothing but smoke and mirrors. I have spies of my own. I know your numbers. Your traps are not real.”
“Real enough to take out dozens of your Lestats.”
“But not Camille.”
“We weren’t expecting her. Now we are. And may I remind you, all your earlier minions failed miserably.”
Nosferatu set down the stopper, picked up the decanter and poured more whiskey, all seemingly nonchalant but his cheeks were stained dark. “I sent a few expendables to test your boundaries. I could have sent hundreds more. Could still send them.” He corked the decanter and turned. “You and Aiden are good, but not good enough to stop hundreds of vampires. No, I can destroy you and yours. Maybe I’ll start right here, right now. I’ll call my entire household down on you and kill your plaything. You couldn’t stop me.”
“Aiden,” Ric snarled.
With a deadly grin, the assassin unzipped his jacket to reveal a miniature flamethrower, fuel canisters strapped to his waist. That explained the bulk.
“Maybe I’m smoke but Aiden is fire,” Ric said. “Are you absolutely certain you could take Synnove before he killed you where you stand?”
Nosferatu cleared his throat. But no words came out.
“Know this too. An agent is in place. If we haven’t reported in by dawn, the agent will call the Ancient One. If any harm comes to my humans—including and especially Synnove—Elias will assume command of my territory.” Ric took one lethal step toward Nosferatu. “I’m not just smoke any more, Nosy. Haven’t been since I stepped into Synnove’s sunshine.”
“How cloyingly sweet.” The words were brave but Nosferatu set down his glass with a trembling hand. “Even if I do hire you, I’ll look like a fool when you join Elias’s merry band.”
“No,” Aiden said. “You cut a deal with us, we abide by it.”
Nosferatu snorted. “And I should simply take your word on that?”
“Not our word,” Ric said. “Our actions. In nearly two centuries we haven’t joined any alliance. We don’t bow to any master. Not you and not Elias.”
“They’ll be nonaligned.” I watched Nosferatu’s eyes. “Independence is part of the deal.”
His gaze narrowed, thoughtful. He was starting to buy it.
I hammered our advantage home. “Who else is there besides Ric and Aiden? You’d need to give your minions or lieutenants a real description. How many of them do you trust that much? Can you trust any of them not to kidnap Eloise, or worse? But—” my pause gave emphasis to my final selling point, “—Ric and Aiden already know about her. They care about her like you do.”
“She was such a sweet child,” he said slowly. “A sweeter woman. Then with the change… She disappeared and I haven’t seen her. I do not know what kind of vampire she has become, but I assume she is as innocent. As helpless.” His voice cracked and for one instant pity stirred.
Then I remembered who this vampire was, and what he’d done to Ric and Aiden. Life wasn’t fair. Some tried to make it more so. But some made it even meaner and uglier than it was.
Pity was wasted on Nosferatu.
Confirmed a moment later when he strode to place hands on Ric’s and Aiden’s shoulders. “You two are my best. Do this and all will be forgiven.”
Smarmy bastard.
As we left the mansion, vampire guards glowered but no one attacked or tried to stop us. Word must have gotten out.
Still, we were cautious as I drove away, Ric and Aiden free to defend us if needed. Ric instructed me through sharp turns and double-backs designed to suss out tails while Aiden watched the streets like a hawk. Even after we’d determined no physical tail existed, we stopped just over the state border so Aiden could scan every inch of the limo for electronic beacons. He found one and flicked it into the bushes with disgust.
Driving off again, I called Twyla to let her know we were safely away. She let out a breath and said she’d see us at the cabin.
“Are we really going to do it?” Aiden said. “Find Eloise when she doesn’t want to be found?”
“She’ll find us,” Ric said.
“What?” I squawked in duet with Aiden.
Ric smiled. “Remember the signals? Pink for stay away. Green for find me. I’ll just leak my picture to the press on St. Patrick’s day.”
“Sneaky bastard.” Aiden was smiling too. “And once she finds us, together we figure out a way we can all be free from Nosferatu. I like.”
We returned to the cabin moments before sunrise. Twyla was cleaning up the kitchen. Elena was resting on the couch. Bo had built a fire in the fieldstone fireplace and kept tucking in the afghan covering her. She grumbled but didn’t look too put out with his fussing. Although once the day heated up I’d imagine either the fire or covers would go.
It was less morning and more the end of a very long night. Bo poured libations and the six of us sat before the fire, celebratory drinks in our hands: me and Twyla with Irish cream; Ric, Aiden and Bo with good brown ale; and Elena making faces at her carrot juice.
We updated the three Alliance members. “Of course,” I said, “after Eloise comes out of hiding, there’s no saying that Nosferatu won’t attack Ric. But we’ll deal with that then.”
“Nosferatu with a daughter.” Bo was shaking his head. “I can’t believe old fart face has a weakness.”
“Bo. I swore you to secrecy,” I said fiercely. “You can’t tell anyone.”
“Don’t fail us.” Ric’s eyes flashed red. “I will protect my people.”
“Yes, yes. Of course.” Bo’s expression sucked straight lemon juice. “I promise not to tell anyone about her and never to interfere with your nonaligned status. I like a bit of independence myself.”
Then he held out a hand. “But if there’s anything we can do, call. Anything.”
Ric stared at Bo’s hand. My heart thumped.
Then Ric clasped wrists with Bo, and all was right with my world again.
Suddenly the door slammed open. We all looked up.
Nikos, his chest pumping like bellows, stood in the doorway, no longer filling it. “Twyla. O Theos mou, you’re safe.”
Twyla leaped to her feet—and nearly fell over. Not the Irish cream. Lack of sleep and worry had finally caught up to her.
Nikos tried to mist—I could see his edges blur—but stayed solid. He shook his head as if to clear it, then kicked into a run and barely caught her before she took a header into the fireplace. His dark eyes roved over her face. She grabbed his shoulders and devoured him with her gaze.
As they clung to each other, we stared with shock.
His gray-streaked hair, grizzled face, hunched shoulders and bent spine were an old man’s. His mountain of muscles had melted and he was almost gaunt. He looked like a man just out of intensive care.
Or one who should still be in the ICU.
I glanced at Ric. He shook his head slightly. In my periphery, Elena and Bo exchanged a worried look.
“You’re all right?” Twyla didn’t seem to notice as she petted Nikos’s scalp. “Tell me you’re all right.”
“Yes.” His voice rumbled as deep as before, which was frankly a relief. It seemed that was all he was going to say, with his mouth at any rate.
But their eyes met, searched, communicated. Twyla’s glittered with unshed tears. “You need to sit. I’ve got something to say.”
She led him to a chair. He followed docilely, his black eyebrows raised. It was obvious he was expecting the worst as he sat.
“It’s a question. For you.” She went down on one knee in front of him. “A very important question that I want you to think over carefully.” She paused. “Not too carefully, though. It’d bruise my ego. You wouldn’t want to hurt my ego, would you?”
Even Nikos seemed to know words were necessary to answer that leading question. “No, love.”
“Good.�
�� Her face cleared and she took one of his hands in both hers. “I, Twyla Tafel, ask you, Nikos…” She frowned. “Nikos—” Her frown deepened. “Do you have a last name?”
One corner of his mouth crooked. His version of a smile was even more restrained than Aiden’s. “I’ve had many.”
“What was your original last name?”
“We took names of place.” He covered her hands with one of his. “Nikos of Sparta.”
“Your last name is ‘Of Sparta’? How the hell will that look on the paperwork?”
“Paperwork?” Nikos rumbled.
“How about Nikos Tafel,” I suggested.
She snorted. “It’d serve him right. But the minister might raise consanguinity issues.”
“Minister?” Nikos’s rumble was more urgent.
“Nikos Sparta then,” I said.
“Or O’Sparta,” Elena put in.
“Is that a real last name?” I asked.
“If it isn’t, it should be.”
“Minister?” Nikos repeated. “What—”
Two of Twyla’s fingers to his lips halted him. Or didn’t halt him exactly. His eyes lit up and his tongue slid out to slick her fingers.
“Stop that.” Her voice had suddenly gone breathy. “I have to get this said first.”
“Mmm.” His eyes closed and he continued to lick.
“Nikos…” Her voice cracked.
“Keep going, big fella.” Ric leaned casually against the arm of his chair. “I’m finding this quite interesting.”
Nikos continued to lick, but a growl emerged, low and threatening. Another, higher pitch growl, joined in, from Twyla.
Ric laughed. It was a full, deep chuckle, appealing to my ears—and other parts of me, tingling all the way through my body, shimmering with hope.
I got up and settled on his lap, hanging my arms around his neck. “We’d better let Twyla finish what she has to say. I want to be a bridesmaid.”
Nikos stopped licking. His eyes snapped open and they were very dark.
Twyla opened her own eyes. She and Nikos locked gazes, and I saw the meeting of two souls. “Nikos Sparta. Will you marry me?”
His face lit like a nova and for a moment his wrinkles disappeared. “Twyla. My love. I thought this day would never come. Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.” He stood, catching her hips and fusing her to him. “And will you marry me?”
