by Lila Dubois
The Cabal’s mansion sat atop a small rise, just high enough that they had a lovely view of the oldest part of the city and the river. The mansion was in the neo-Romanian style and though barely more than one-hundred years old was one of the few structures that had survived Romania’s Communist period, which had seen the destruction of many beautiful buildings to make way for massive apartment complexes. A wide lawn stretched before them, and a twenty-foot stone fence with state-of-the-art security sensors and cameras separated them from the city beyond. The land was worth untold millions, the space unlike anything else in the city.
“There are so many lights.” Aed tipped his head back. “Not many stars.”
“The stars are there. The lights hide them.”
“How many humans are there?” Aed jerked his head at the cityscape.
“About two million in the city limits.”
“Two million?” Aed shook his head. “So many.”
“And that’s just here, in this city. Bucharest is not even a large or very important human city.”
“If it’s not important, why do you live here?”
Isabel rested her hip on the rail. Aed was no fool—his questions were to the point, driving toward the heart of each issue.
“Long ago Duke Drakul was a king in this land. Human events cause the landscape of the world to transform. Bucharest’s power and influence changes all the time. It is not important now but once was, and will be again.”
“Tara…Tara is as it ever was.” Aed frowned. “But I know the human place called Tara, where the kings of Ireland sat, is no longer the seat of power.”
Isabel debated telling him that the Hill of Tara in Ireland was just a hill—whatever structures had been there lost long ago. Maybe she’d leave that for a later conversation.
His gaze swept over the lights, his expression a mixture of fascination and trepidation. She knew the feeling well—it was how she’d felt when she first saw the gates of Tara and the elegant palace perched atop its sea-side cliff.
“Let’s go out.” The words left her mouth before she’d thought them all the way through.
Aed swiveled, his eyes wide. “Out…there?”
Pressing her lips together so she wouldn’t laugh, Isabel nodded.
Aed cleared his throat. “If you’re going, I will go too. I will protect you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “As much as I can. My powers are not working.”
“There isn’t magic here the way there is in Fae.”
“Perhaps that is why my wards and enchantments don’t work.”
“Whatever magic exists here won’t be what you’re used to. Give yourself time to adjust. Besides, if you can’t work magic, that means no one else can either.”
He seemed satisfied with that idea. “I will protect you as best I can.”
His reminder of their positions, and the duties that had bought them together, soured her mood, but Isabel wasn’t going to back down.
“Come on, let’s go get you ready for a night out in the human world.”
Aed’s gaze met hers, and all the things they were not saying to one another were there. Isabel turned away first. She wasn’t ready to talk to Aed about what had happened. She had a job to do, and she couldn’t afford to be distracted by the emotional pain Aed caused. She motioned for him to return to the bedroom. Aed took one step, then stopped and tentatively held out his arm.
Isabel told herself to ignore it, or to laugh and make a joke.
She did neither. Slipping her arm through his, Isabel clung to him, relishing the contact.
Aed’s expression was priceless. Isabel wished she had a camera. The big Tuatha de Danaan warrior was trying to hide his alarm, but his eyes were round as saucers and he kept folding and unfolding his arms while his feet were braced in a defensive stance.
All she’d said was that he needed some new clothes.
Ionel, the human house manager, stood next to her, examining Aed with an eye to both his potential threat and his clothing needs. His wife Tereza circled Aed with a tape measure, clucking her tongue. Tereza stepped back once she was done, seemingly unfazed by the stranger Isabel had brought into their midst. Tereza’s family, like Ionel’s, had served the Vampire for hundreds of years, and her uncle was house manager in Mexico City.
“Drake’s clothes would be the best fit.” Tereza rolled the tape measure around her fingers, her voice soft but firm.
Isabel’s lip curled. “I don’t want him wearing anything of Drake’s.”
Behind her, a man laughed. “And why not, wife?”
Isabel stiffened, her fangs lengthening in her mouth. Aed’s gaze met hers, and then his stance went from defensive to offensive. Boots thumped over the carpet and Tereza and Ionel both bowed.
“Drake. I thought you were in Asia.” Isabel turned, facing the new arrival.
The Judge of Bucharest looked like his father, the Duke. Drake was a bit taller and leaner, but the features were the same, though he had darker coloring—his skin a lovely shade of copper, his hair as black as her own.
He wore black leather pants, a pale gray silk shirt and a black vest. Though he faced her, Isabel knew his attention was really on Aed.
“And who is this you’ve brought to visit, wife?” He stressed the last word, this time speaking French instead of Romanian.
Isabel didn’t want to open her mouth. He’d see that her fangs were down, see that, even after all these years, he had the ability to piss her off with only a few words. Turning her back to Drake, she touched Ionel’s shoulder. “Would you get Aed some clothes, please?”
“Of course, my lady.” Ionel was careful to address her formally while in Drake’s presence.
Once the humans were gone Isabel had regained enough control to smile at Drake, her fangs safely retracted. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted to see you, darling.” He smiled, but it was not a kind expression.
“I don’t want to play a game with you right now.” Isabel kept her voice low, but she knew he heard her. She was keenly aware of her position standing midway between Aed and Drake.
Drake’s gaze flickered to Aed, and then he leapt across the room, grabbing Isabel by the throat and slamming her into the wall. Before she could rip Drake’s stupid head off, Aed was on them, grasping Drake’s wrist and squeezing so hard Isabel heard bone crack. Drake released her, only to be flung across the room.
The air around Aed crackled, and in the next moment his armor, which had been sitting on a table, appeared on his body, his sword now clasped in his hand. Apparently there was magic in Bucharest.
Drake got to his feet, his lips pulled back and fangs out. He stared at his right arm.
Isabel ducked under Aed’s arm, trying to get between them, but he caught hold of her shoulder. “No, stay behind me.”
“You’re defending her…from me?” Drake tossed his head, his dark hair sliding right back over his brow.
“I am Aed mac Goll, warrior of the Fianna and assigned protector of Lady Isabel of the Vampire.” The words rang with authority and magic.
Drake laughed.
Isabel picked up the closest chair and flung it across the room. It shattered on impact with Drake’s body. It was not the most mature response, but Drake was infuriating.
His laughter deepened to true amusement as he shook off bits of fabric and splintered wood.
“I fucking hate you,” Isabel snarled in Romanian.
“I like your pet fairy. Very noble.” Drake rotated his right wrist, the bone having already healed. “Does this mean we can’t have a fight?”
Isabel couldn’t stop her snarl of frustration.
Aed cleared his throat. “This is your…husband?”
“No.” Isabel forced her hands to relax. “Once. But not any longer.”
Drake kicked some chair bits out of the way. �
��She was a terrible wife, but she’s an excellent fighter. And one of the only vampires I can do battle with.” He advanced on Aed, hand out.
Aed pressed the tip of his sword against the base of Drake’s throat, ignoring his outstretched hand.
“Isabel, tell your pet to stand down.” Drake spoke in Romanian, his voice devoid of all teasing. There was a point past which the Judge of Bucharest should not be pushed. This was it.
Isabel laid her hand on Aed’s arm. “There’s no need. Drake and I cannot be in the same room without wanting to kill each other. It’s been that way for hundreds of years.”
For a long minute Aed didn’t respond, and the tension racketed up, but then he sheathed his sword.
Drake held out his hand again. Aed clasped it—fingers curled over the wrist he’d broken only a minute before. Isabel saw the moment of surprise flicker across Drake’s face. It had been a long time since anyone would have greeted him with that warrior’s gesture.
“I am Drake, Judge of Bucharest, son of Duke Drakul.”
Aed nodded. “I’m Aed mac Goll.”
“Great, everyone knows everyone.” Isabel forced a smile, then switched to Romanian. “Now go fuck yourself, Drake.”
“Fuck yourself?” Aed repeated in badly accented Romanian. “I don’t know that phrase.”
Isabel froze.
Drake cackled, his dark eyes now warm and dangerously alluring. “You know Romanian?”
“No.” Aed eyed the other man warily. “But I understand some of what you’re saying. The language is Romanian?”
“I’ll explain, as soon as my esteemed friend leaves.” Isabel smiled wide, this time letting her fangs show.
Drake eyed her mouth. “Promises, promises, my lovely wife. But you’re right. I must leave.” He nodded once to Aed. “It’s nice to meet you, and I hope someday I’ll hear the story of why you’re here, and why you’re protecting the lovely Isabel.”
With a mocking bow, Drake left. Aed looked at Isabel, questions in his eyes. Isabel opened her mouth, closed it, unsure how to begin explaining Drake.
Tereza knocked once before slipping in through the open door, arms full of fabric. “I have clothes, my lady.”
Isabel turned away from Aed, glad for the interruption. “Thank you. Let’s have a look.” She helped Tereza spread the garments out on the bed. Ionel came in with a basket of shoes. He frowned when he saw that Aed was fully clad in his armor but went to help remove it. In no time Aed was stripped down to his leather garments once more.
Isabel waved Tereza and Ionel out of the room.
Aed was plucking at some of the things on the bed, his expression once more an amusing mix of suspicious and curious.
“You’re going to have to take off your clothes.”
Aed raised his head oh-so-slowly, and when his gaze met hers there was fire in his eyes.
Isabel took a deep breath in through her nose, reminding herself that she couldn’t trust him. The connection she thought she’d felt for him was only in her foolish mind. And oh, she was fool, because she wanted him still. She wanted to leap onto the bed and grab him, kiss him until she couldn’t remember why that was a terrible idea.
Isabel plucked out a dress shirt and a pair of dark slacks. “Try these on.”
Aed caught them from the air when she tossed them, staring at the fabric uncertainly. He stripped off his shirt, leaving his heavily muscled chest bare.
Isabel’s fangs lengthened. She could hear the beating of his heart.
Aed was watching her watch him, and she told herself to turn away, but didn’t. When he shucked his pants, revealing his semi-erect cock, she finally moved, walking casually across the room as if she were unaffected by the sight of him. She doubted he was fooled.
Fabric ripped. Aed cleared his throat. “I don’t think these will fit.”
Isabel stifled a laugh when she saw that the slacks were only midway up his thickly muscled thighs. Keeping her mind off his attractive physique, she sorted through the clothes and started handing him things.
“Put those on first. They’re undergarments—drawers.”
“They’re very small.” Aed eyed what she handed him.
The navy blue boxer briefs fit—and were snug enough that they didn’t help Isabel keep her mind off wanting to fuck him.
“I think I like these. Is this what human men wear out?”
“No, you’ll have to wear some pants.” Isabel’s lips twitched. “Let’s get you a shirt first.”
He’d just put on a plain white undershirt when there was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Isabel called as she checked the label on a pair of jeans.
“Lady Isabel?”
She knew from the scent that at least three humans had entered the room, and the speaker was someone whose voice she didn’t recognize. Checking over her shoulder, she saw three slim, blonde women in silky nightgowns slide into the room, their eyes on the floor.
They were oranges sanguine—blood oranges, the slightly crude name for humans who lived among the Vampire. Human mythology was rife with stories of people being kidnapped and drained of blood by vampires. Such an act was forbidden by the Cabals and very rare in Vampire history, but the few times it had happened it had usually been a spectacular mess, making it memorable enough to enter the human canon. The truth was, the Vampire lived off the blood of the willing. A vampire bite was intensely pleasurable. These three probably belonged to Roman, head of one of the vampire covens in Turkey, who liked to spend time in Bucharest when he wanted to get away from the politics inside his coven. Roman had a thing for matching humans—his oranges sanguine always matched. It didn’t matter what they looked like, as long as they resembled each other. Apparently this month’s flavor was slim blondes with short hair.
“Why are you here?” Isabel’s tone was sharper than she’d intended and all three women cowered. She wondered what Roman had told them about her.
“We helped Ms. Tereza find the clothes.” The apparent leader swallowed, and her blood was pumping hard from anxiety. “We were just curious.”
“Where is your master?” Isabel asked.
“He’s sleeping.”
“Ah, well then.” Isabel looked at the humans, who still hadn’t raised their heads. She caught sight of Aed’s confused expression. “They’re the human…companions…of a vampire who is currently living here. He’s gone to ground. Vampires can go into a kind of hibernation and sleep for days, weeks and even months.”
Aed eyed the trio. “They are human?”
“Yes.”
“And the two who were here before, the man and woman?”
“They are human too.” Isabel raised a brow. “Is this the first time you’ve ever met a human?”
“Yes.”
“And what do you think?”
Aed frowned. “I thought they’d be…different.”
“Different how?”
He cleared his throat. “I thought they would have bigger heads.”
That startled a laugh out of Isabel. “Bigger heads?” Isabel took a seat in what had been one of a pair of antique Georgian armchairs. Its mate was in pieces after having been hurled at Drake. Isabel contemplated Aed for a moment. She’d spent days among his people feeling like she was out of her depth. It was time to return the favor.
“Girls.” Isabel tried and failed to hide her mischievous smile. “That handsome man over there needs to be dressed to go out. Have at it.”
Three blonde heads snapped up. The one who’d spoken grinned, then made her way to Aed, who took a half step in retreat.
Ten minutes later Isabel had to admit she was impressed.
Roman’s trio of humans were eyeing Aed with a mixture of pride and longing.
“Well done,” Isabel said to them.
“Thank you,” each murmured in turn.
Aed shifted side to side, then stuck his hands in his pockets. One of the women sighed.
They’d found him a pair of dark jeans that were just snug enough to hug his thighs. A belt took care of the slightly too-big waist. On top he wore a tight-fitting navy V-neck T-shirt with sleeves that stopped just at the little dip between the muscles of his shoulder and biceps. Aed pulled on the black jacket with a priest collar, completing the outfit that so skillfully showed off his impressive physique.
“This is what human men wear?” Aed asked, fiddling with the tab of the jacket zipper.
“They don’t wear it like that,” one of the girls said.
Isabel laughed. “No, they don’t. I’m going to change. Aed, I’ll meet you in the foyer.”
Isabel winked at the women, who blushed and stammered, clearly shocked at the informality of it. Isabel sighed. Sometimes having to act like the Sage, on top of actually doing the work of the Sage, was a bit wearing.
Confident that the humans would guide Aed, Isabel slipped away. Her chambers were in a private wing of the mansion and only accessible through a series of heavily secured doors. There were no picturesque balconies here, but the three-room apartment suited her. She went to the walk-in closet, but not to pick an outfit. Instead she tripped the lever hidden in the cedar paneling behind one of the dress racks. A lighted display of shoes swung forward, allowing her to slip into the secret room beyond.
It was small and utilitarian, the antithesis of her lushly decorated and furnished bedroom, den and living room. Six computer monitors blinked to life when she tapped a few keys on the upper of two keyboards.
A hundred years ago she’d archived and recorded information in a massive library housed in a warehouse twenty miles away. In the past ten years she’d gone digital, allowing her to hide the true power and knowledge she commanded as Sage right here in the mansion.
Isabel had lived long enough to know that beauty hid intelligence. It was true both for people and places—only the Duke knew this room was here, and she’d personally helped ensure the silence of the workmen and technicians who’d built it. The massive databases and information stores contained on the computer would spell disaster if they fell into the wrong hands, but no one would think to find them here, hidden by designer dresses and expensive shoes.
