She went to the gatehouse and looked at the join between the tower and the wall. Silent and slow, she put one hand and foot on the wall, another on the tower, and began climbing. No one looked her way, not even the sentry standing twenty feet away. She reached the top and grabbed for the parapet with one hand.
Something threw her down again, just as hard as the last time.
Ruxandra was ready for it now, or at least as ready as she could be for a shove from an unknown something that she couldn’t see, hear, or smell. She landed on all fours and glared up at the wall.
It’s not a person or animal. Being angry is stupid.
She marched to the guardhouse, ready to command one of the men to get her inside.
Then she caught a new scent.
It was the man from the first kabak they had visited—the man she couldn’t see, though she’d known he was there. He was nearby. Ruxandra turned a slow circle, watching and waiting. No one looked in her direction, no one moved. The guards stayed on their feet, their eyes fixed on the bridge.
They’re looking at someone.
But there’s no one there.
No one I can see.
Ruxandra advanced on the bridge, nostrils flaring as she took in the man’s scent. The guards both started and turned away from the bridge to stare at the fortress. Sweat glowed suddenly from each man’s brow.
Someone gave them an order.
The one on the bridge.
Can he see me?
The last thought disconcerted her, and not because she was naked. No human had ever seen her when she had chosen to be unnoticed, not for 130 years.
Which means what? He isn’t human? He smells human.
Ruxandra closed her eyes and breathed deep, pinpointing the place where the man stood. She opened her mouth wide, letting her fangs come down, and raised her hands, her talons ripping out of her flesh. She charged the bridge, running blind, listening for the man to scramble out of her way.
Then the scent was behind her, though it hadn’t moved. Ruxandra swore silently and spun around. She charged again, her eyes open this time.
Again she went past him.
I know he’s there. I should have caught him. How could I miss him?
She walked toward him this time, all her senses alert. And this time she felt the push that changed her direction. A subtle pressure that refused to let her touch him, no matter how hard she tried.
Human magic. She took off at a run, fear twisting her stomach. I must tell Kade.
Chapter 6
Ruxandra didn’t return to the house or go into the kabak. Instead, she crouched on the roof of a house across the street from the kabak, hidden in the shadow of the chimney. Her eyes searched the street, her nose twitching with every breath, trying to sniff out the man from the bridge, or any of the men from the kabaks they had visited.
None were nearby.
Ruxandra watched for places where no one stood or walked. She looked for where the shadows fell wrong or the dogs avoided walking.
There was nothing.
She wished she were back in Italy—Venice. She’d spent fifteen years there, and knew every inch of it, from the slums on the shore to the mansions and cathedrals. There she would be able to tell if a single rat was moving funny, or the water in one bend of a canal was flowing the wrong way.
Here she could only sniff and stare, sorting the smells of the people and the cattle and the dogs and the sewage. Watching ground too dry to leave tracks and trying to understand who it was who followed them.
Two hours later Kade walked up the street.
Ruxandra pitched her voice to vampire tones. “Kade! Hide!”
To his credit he didn’t look up, didn’t even shift his head toward the sound of her voice. He kept walking, past Ruxandra, past the kabak, and into the darkness. A moment later Kade’s voice, in vampire tones, drifted out of the darkness.
“The house.”
Ruxandra slipped over the peak of the roof, slid across the shingles, and jumped to the alley without a sound. She ran off into the darkness, moving fast through the narrow alleys between the houses, going in the opposite direction from Kade’s house. At the outer wall, Ruxandra jumped, landing on the parapet, and then sprinted the length, circling the city twice. The entire time, she breathed deeply, sniffing for the ones she couldn’t see.
Ruxandra reached Kade’s house moments before dawn. The sun lay under the horizon, ready to pull free. Ruxandra stayed out until the first rays of the sun broke over the city walls, sniffing the air like a wolf, eyes and ears wide. When she dashed inside, Kade was waiting, a blanket in his outstretched arms. Ruxandra ran forward and let him wrap it around her.
She stayed in the circle of his arms and whispered, “The Kremlin. I couldn’t get over the walls. Something pushed me back, knocked me to the ground.”
Kade drew her closer, his breath in her ear.
“And the ones who follow,” he whispered. “Have you seen them yet?”
“No. But I faced one.” A shudder ran though her. “I scented him and knew just where he was, but I couldn’t even touch him, Kade. It was like a river caught me in a current and pulled me around him.”
“That is . . . strange.”
“Frightening,” Ruxandra said. “I was helpless against him. Kade, I haven’t been so helpless since—” Since Elizabeth.
Kade’s grip tightened. Ruxandra leaned into it. In the year she’d lived in Pisa, she had not been embraced by anyone. It made her feel safe in a way few other things did.
Even though it’s no safer than standing in the street, if we can’t see or touch the enemy. Even though Kade seems to attract or be attracted to danger.
She whispered into his ear, “How do we fight them?”
“Why are we whispering?” Kade whispered back.
“Because they may be listening. If they can see us when we’re unnoticeable, who knows what else they can do?”
Kade shook his head but didn’t raise his voice. “That’s different. They counter our magic, but to hear us from a distance . . . ? No. Human magic has its limitations.”
“Are you sure?”
“I was a sorcerer for thirty years. I have tried to amplify my senses many times. It is simply not possible.” Kade patted her bare shoulder above the blanket, his hands smooth and gentle against her skin. “Tomorrow night we will search again.”
“I need to hunt. Will we be able to if they are watching us?”
“These men can’t be everywhere.”
“Yet it feels that way.” She leaned back. “I don’t want to sleep. I’m worried they may come in.” She would have warning if a door or window was breached, but it was deeply frightening not to be able to sense an enemy coming.
Is this how most humans live who are not safe, as I was in the convent? It must be. Though I suppose they grow used to it.
I do not like feeling like prey.
“Then what shall we do?” Kade smiled, and his pale-blue eyes went to the blanket covering her body.
“Not that.” Ruxandra stepped back. He let her slip out of his arms without protest.
“Then I suggest you dress,” Kade said. “I will make tea and fetch my cards.”
Kade stepped back, bowed, and walked to the fire. Ruxandra slipped into the bedroom. Instead of wearing her men’s clothes, though, she reached into her bag for the dress she had brought. It was blue, plain, and not as fashionable as the dresses she’d left behind in Italy. But it was simple to put on by oneself, and despite its simple cut, showed off her figure to advantage. Ruxandra pulled on her shift and dress, not bothering with stockings or shoes, in case they had to run.
And all the while, she thought about Kade’s arms.
Why am I reacting this way?
It had felt nice having someone’s arms around her again. So had the way his breath touched her ear when he spoke, and his hand on the skin of her bare shoulder.
This is really not the time to lose focus. And I like women.
&n
bsp; She remembered the nights in Rome, lying back in the matron’s arms as the woman’s three lovers—all soldiers, all young and strong—serviced them both.
All right, I prefer women.
But I know him. We are the same . . . species. And he is attractive.
Dammit.
Ruxandra finished dressing, freed her hair and brushed it smooth, and stepped out into the front room. Kade had set a pot of sweet-smelling tea on the table, with two fine porcelain cups and saucers beside it. A thick deck of colorful cards sat on the table.
“You look wonderful, my dear.” Kade pulled the chair out for her. “I haven’t seen you in a proper dress since we reunited. Now, what game shall we play?”
They played Tressette all day. Kade played with a tactical precision, lining up his cards to get the best point advantages possible. Ruxandra preferred to gamble a bit more, to bluff and to push, to try to force Kade into making a mistake.
And while they played, they talked.
Ruxandra told him of her time in Venice, and how she’d narrowly missed the war. She talked of opera and music and art. Kade talked of science and politics, of the wars he’d followed—easy food—and the work he had done, exchanging a unique set of skills for wealth and stability.
Neither mentioned Elizabeth, as if sensing that the other had enough on their mind that adding the weight of the past would serve no purpose.
When darkness came, they stepped into the streets. Ruxandra had added stockings and boots, for form’s sake, but the boots were flat-soled, in case running should be necessary.
And I suspect it will.
For two hours they walked the city. Ruxandra made Kade stop every hundred yards for the first half mile, pulling him into the shadows with her while she watched and listened and sniffed the air. They walked and ran, circled and doubled back, and several times took cover in orchards or gardens. Kade led them on the longest route possible between his house and his hunting grounds.
The small, run-down houses of the poor neighborhood were crouched together like frightened animals. The shutters lacked paint and hung crooked on their windows. Rot ran through the buildings, leaving gaping holes in the walls. She sensed desperation from the people living within.
Ruxandra believed no one followed them but was not sure. It made her nervous and irritable.
From somewhere deep inside her came a growl of hunger.
Calm yourself, Beast. It’s only been a few days. She found herself, in her frustration and fear, imagining letting the Beast out. But the Beast would be of even less use against intelligent, organized magic users.
“Do you wish to follow me?” Kade asked. “There is a charity hospital nearby, and several within who would be happy to be out of their misery.”
“I’ll hunt alone,” Ruxandra said. “Being pursued puts me in the mood to hunt.”
“As you wish.”
Kade gave a short bow over her hand and walked off into the night.
***
Ruxandra made herself noticeable and opened her mind wide. From every house she sensed hunger and pain, sadness and anger. She walked past a grimy kabak with crooked walls and a roof that looked ready to collapse. The people within reeked of exhaustion and desperation. In the alley behind it, a man and woman coupled hard. The woman faced the wall, the man’s hips pounded hard against her. She sensed no passion or love between them, only grim need and obligation.
Ruxandra circled the building and kept walking.
She found what she wanted in a small attic apartment. She sensed pain blossoming in a girl’s flesh, and layers of pain and anger and helplessness in two other children. And a man radiating anger and glee.
“Where is he?” he shouted. “Where is your father?”
Ruxandra turned unnoticeable. She slipped off her shoes and extended the talons in her hands and feet. She dug them deep into the wooden wall and climbed up to the small, shuttered window of the attic. The cries grew louder, timed to the hard smack of leather against the girl’s skin.
“Please!” one child begged. “Our father ran away!”
“Then you owe me his money!” the man said. “Give it to me, now!”
“He didn’t leave us any money,” the other child cried. “He didn’t even leave us food!”
“Liars, the lot of you!” The strap struck flesh three times more. “You think I care that you’re hungry? You’ll be worse than that if I don’t get my money!”
Ruxandra peered through the shutters. The girl bent naked over the small rickety table was the oldest—fifteen, maybe. Another, younger girl and a young boy huddled in the corner, their naked flesh covered in old and new welts.
“You get me my money by tomorrow!” the man snarled. He pulled a long-bladed knife out with his free hand and brandished it at the two younger ones. “You sell yourselves ten times a night if you have to, but you do it!”
Ruxandra opened the shutters wide and slid into the attic. The man spun, his strap still raised high. Ruxandra allowed her fangs to come down, held up her extended talons. His eyes went wide, his mouth falling open.
“Children,” Ruxandra growled, her voice echoing the rumble of the Beast inside. “Leave.”
A quarter of an hour later, unnoticed by the few people in the streets, she found Kade outside a small kabak in the worst part of the poor quarter. He was leaning against a wall, arms folded, unnoticeable to the passing humans. His eyes moved back and forth, searching the street.
“Any sign?” he asked as she leaned against the wall beside him.
“Nothing so far.”
“Have you eaten?”
“Yes.”
“Then let us consult Kurkov and see if he knows what we’re dealing with.”
Another hour of backtracking, circling, and detouring brought them to Kurkov’s house. It was no larger than Kade’s house, though it boasted a second floor. Bright-red paint covered the walls, brighter-green paint the shutters.
Ruxandra, her mind scouring for the men stalking them, knew the house was empty before they saw the front door swinging open on broken hinges.
Kade’s hands clenched into fists then opened wide, his talons glittering in the ambient light. The muscles in his neck clenched hard, and his fangs descended from his gums. He snarled, the sound low and inhuman. Then he swore, long and loud, in seven different languages.
Ruxandra left him in the road and advanced. She smelled no one inside the building.
Which doesn’t mean no one is there.
She slipped inside and breathed deep. She caught Kurkov’s scent first, Eduard’s next. Then the food they’d eaten for dinner and vodka they’d spilled on the floor.
And the six men who’d taken them.
She crawled out of the house, her nose against the ground. She sniffed deep, following the scent until it vanished at a set of ruts in the earth. She circled the ruts, still sniffing.
“How many?” Kade growled.
“Six.” Ruxandra kept her nose close to the ground, breathing deep. “They had a carriage. I can smell the horses.”
“And can you follow them?” Fury filled his voice, making it shake.
“Yes.” Ruxandra put her face against the road, breathed deep. Then she broke into a run, nostrils flaring as they drank in the scent of the horses. Kade’s footsteps pounded on the ground right behind her.
“You can track them like this?” Kade asked.
“The scent is fresh,” Ruxandra said. “I could pick it from a running herd.”
They ran north, Ruxandra leading. Four horses pulled the carriage. Two others rode alongside. They changed direction three times, first to the Neglinka River and the army encampment on its banks. For a moment Ruxandra thought they’d gone into the line of tents. Then the scents changed direction again. The carriage crossed the Neglinka and turned east, running along the walls and the moat of the city’s inner wall. It turned into a neighborhood, twisting through the streets and ending at a warehouse with big wooden doors shut tight.
&
nbsp; “I smell the horses.” She pointed at the dry earth and the fresh hoofprints there. She sniffed, frowned, and sniffed again. Then she kicked the doors, smashing through whatever bolts held them closed. They flew inward and bounced hard off the walls. The noise echoed in the space beyond.
The carriage sat, abandoned and empty, in the center of the warehouse. Its doors lay open. The horses no longer stood before it. The back door, smaller, but still easy for a horse to pass through, stood open. Ruxandra looked through it. The horses, both for the riders and the carriage, stood in a neat line, tied to the hitching post that ran along the back length of the warehouse. She sniffed deep, walking in a circle.
“They didn’t leave,” Ruxandra said. “They came out, they tied the horses, and they went back inside.”
Kade turned in a slow circle. The warehouse’s walls were wood, supported by massive posts. Heavy crossbeams held the walls apart and supported the roof. The floor was dirt, unmarked save for the tracks of the horses. There was no place to hide.
“Then where did they go?” His voice rose in frustration.
Ruxandra closed her eyes and sniffed long and hard.
“I don’t know.” She sighed. “But no one is in here.”
“God dammit.” He walked over to the carriage. It had black leather padding on the driver’s seat, and on the passenger seats inside. The black lacquer that coated every inch of the carriage—even the wheels—shone in the dim light. It was a well-made, expensive piece and held nothing except a few specks of dirt on the floor.
Kade ripped the door off its hinges and threw it against the wall.
Then he kicked his foot through the paneling.
Then he attacked the carriage, smashing with his fists and feet and ripping with his talons. He tore at it until no piece of wood remained attached to any other.
And he did it in absolute silence.
And when he’d thrown the last scrap of metal hard enough to embed in the wall and torn the last board in two, and the dust and splinters had settled to the earth, he shook off his cloak, put up the hood, and walked out the door.
Ruxandra ran to catch up with him and then walked beside him. She didn’t speak. She reached out with her mind as they walked, looking for pursuers. She found none, but felt the rage blazing in Kade. With every step his feet struck at the earth as if it were responsible for his miseries.
Mother of Chaos (Princess Dracula Book 3) Page 6
