“Mihaela. It isn’t personal. Someone’s prepared to pay a debt through you.”
Mihaela turned back. “A debt to Gavril? Who?”
The vampiress smiled. “It doesn’t matter.”
Silently, Mihaela begged to differ. But if Angyalka wouldn’t tell her, there was only one way to find out. Leave.
“It’s always a revelation coming here,” she said as she set her glass back down on the bar. “Good night.”
As she walked out, she imagined hundreds of eyes burning into her back with hatred and hostility. She didn’t mind that. Her own expression would be much the same if she only faced the other way. It took more than Saloman’s law to change the feelings of hundreds of years. What did make the hairs on the back of her head stand up was the possibility that one such pair of eyes belonged to somebody prepared to do something about it, not to relieve his own instincts but because Gavril wanted her dead.
As the door slammed behind her, the noise cut off like a switch, and the silence seemed to scream in her ears instead. There was no sign of the bouncer now. Perhaps he’d gone to wait for her outside the premises. He had mean eyes and was probably exactly the sort of weak, stupid creature that would be likely to do the bidding of Gavril.
By the dim light of the feeble, bare electric bulb that hung from the ceiling, Mihaela began to pick her way down the stairs, listening for the faintest sound of the upper door opening behind her or any sign that someone might be waiting for her in the street.
Every nerve felt stretched taut as she peered into the shadows ahead. She shook her right arm, and the stake hidden in her sleeve slid comfortingly into her palm. Damp mustiness filled her nostrils.
The shadow at the next bend didn’t move, and yet something about it wasn’t right.
It had eyes.
There had been no point in using a detector in a place like this. There were simply too many vampires for it to be any use. But she’d been hunting all her life, and every instinct shrieked vampire at her now.
Did this count as Angel territory? Would they really risk attacking here? Or was someone just watching her with hate in his undead eyes, like all those vampires in the club upstairs? Without pause, she walked steadily onward, ready to plunge the stake as soon as the attack came. If it came here. He was more likely to follow her outside.
She kept walking until she drew almost level with the shadow. Still, it didn’t move. She took one step more and at the same time turned to stare directly at the still figure who lurked against the wall.
He stirred at last. She whipped up her stake, but the vampire had only emerged from the blackness to show his face.
Gray eyes glinting silver in the dim light. A mass of untidy dark hair falling forward across his pale, lean face. Maximilian.
Her body remembered him, the cool, silky feel of his skin as he moved against her, in her, undulating, caressing, pushing into her as she came so hard she’d been unsure of survival. Those pale eyes had watched her with the sort of avidity and heat she’d never even imagined in a vampire. The silver sparks had intensified when he climaxed, glowing like stars in a clear night sky. Stupid, stupid imagination. Even stupider memory. It had never been about romance, or even about simple, blatant animal lust. At least, not for him.
Even now, he didn’t trouble to speak, just kept his gaze riveted to her face. And since she couldn’t read his eyes, she looked at his mouth, sensual, almost sculpted into his handsome face. God, what he could do with that mouth…
Drink your blood! Move on, idiot.
She walked on wordlessly, and he made no effort to stop her. Her whole spine prickled as she finished her journey to the foot of the stairs. It took an unbearably long time, using the same slow, even pace as before, just because she refused to let him see he’d disturbed her.
What the hell was he doing here anyway? A night club hardly seemed the right place for an isolated, reclusive vampire, however friendly with the hostess. Was he here for Angyalka? And why the hell did that lurch of something feel so much like jealousy?
Mihaela wasn’t a jealous woman. She’d never had reason to be.
At last, she reached the bottom of the stairs and quickened her pace so that when she wrenched open the door, she almost burst into the street, catapulting herself across the pavement to the road.
It saved her life. As she spun back to face the door, she realized there had been a vampire at either side of it, tracking her slow, even exit so that her sudden burst of speed had taken them by surprise. But they were vampires and had their own speed, and they were rushing on her for the kill.
She leapt, kicking out at the first with enough force to knock him backward. Not as far backward as she’d have liked, for her opponent was unexpectedly strong, but at least it gave her that extra instant to even the odds by plunging her stake into the second attacker’s heart.
She never made that either. He blocked it on his arm and reached for her throat. She evaded him by flipping backward and kicking him in the chest with both feet. His flight was certainly more satisfying than his companion’s, but she had no time to celebrate.
Her hair was suddenly yanked back, and she fell hard against the first vampire. He shoved her head to one side as he plunged for her jugular, while his friend rushed across to share the tasty hunter meal.
Mihaela elbowed her captor, kicking him hard enough to have broken a human’s knee. But although it made the vampire grunt, he didn’t loosen his grip. Mihaela stabbed the stake into his head, which did at least elicit a scream, although by then the other vampire was upon her too. And a third leapt in from nowhere, yanking the bleeding vampire off her and hurling him at the wall of the Angel.
The third vampire moved in a blur, but she knew. She knew it was Maximilian.
However, there was no time to analyze his presence, for the second vampire struck her in the side of the face and caught her to him. Although pain and dizziness engulfed her, they weren’t enough to dull her training. She kneed him in the groin, knocked the blunt end of her stake into his chin to throw his head up, then spun the stake around and plunged it straight into his heart.
He vanished into dust. Through the scattering particles, she saw Maximilian had the remaining, still-bleeding vampire by the throat, pinned to the Angel wall. The weaker vampire didn’t appear able to move, but his mouth was open and contorted, as if in some silent plea for help. Whatever Maximilian was doing to him hurt. A lot.
“Wait!” Mihaela gasped. “Don’t kill him! I need information from him!”
“I’m getting it,” Maximilian said grimly, and the vampire in his hold screamed, trying desperately to jerk his head free. Maximilian shoved him harder against the wall, bashing his head so viciously that blood spattered in a fan shape across the stone.
Maximilian’s gaze seemed to bore into the other’s face as if he was rummaging in his brain. And with a shock, Mihaela realized that was exactly what he was doing, irresistibly and without mercy or pity.
Maximilian’s head swooped for his neck, and an instant later, the vampire exploded.
Maximilian straightened. She couldn’t even see blood on his teeth.
“He owed Gavril for help in a vendetta forty years ago. Gavril wants you out of the way before you interfere with his plans again.”
He spoke quietly, casually, as if describing something as mundane as a restaurant menu. Mihaela swallowed. “Me? Not you?” Just as Angyalka had warned her…
Maximilian shrugged. “He couldn’t hurt me. Gavril knew that.”
“Well, he was taking a chance hurting me. Even before Saloman, very few were stupid enough to attack us.” And if he’d survived this fight, he’d have had Saloman to deal with. According to Elizabeth.
“The stakes are high,” Maximilian said. “And they obviously believe Saloman’s stock is about to fall.”
Unexpectedly, he caught her chin between his fingers, and before she could even jerk away from him, turned her face up for his scrutiny. “He bruised your face.”
“Occupational hazard,” Mihaela muttered. And then, since he neither let her go nor spoke, she said impatiently, “What are you even doing here?”
“Angyalka told me you were here.”
Mihaela stared. It had started to snow again, and he looked incongruously underdressed in his jeans and T-shirt. “You were going to ask me to dance?”
“I was going to save you from them.” He jerked his head to where the vampires’ dust had once lingered. “But we can dance now if you like.”
“I’m not going back in there. I’ve had enough vampire hospitality for one night.” It was a downright refusal, and yet her breath caught in her throat, as if fighting the words.
The club door burst open, and a group of raucous humans fell out. Maximilian swore under his breath. But the revelers ignored them, turning their backs and kicking through the snow as they slipped and skidded down the hill.
“It doesn’t have to be in there,” Maximilian said. Without further warning, he wrapped one arm around her waist and jumped.
It took a second to realize what was happening as the wind rushed through her hair, battering her whole body. Although only her stomach felt as if it were flying, all of her was. In panic, she clutched at him, but by then, they’d landed on the roof of the Angel, close to the glass dome through which Saloman had once escaped.
“Christ,” she gasped. “I didn’t know you could do that!”
“There are many things I can do that you don’t know.” He might have been flirting. It was hard to tell. Certainly, his intent gaze never left her face, even as he turned her slightly and waved one arm in the vague direction of the horizon. His other arm was firm, even warm at her back as he appeared to show her the view.
From here, you could see right over to the Danube and the rest of the city beyond. Budapest in the snow. The sheer beauty, the sheer scale of the view, tugged at her heart, much as the revealed angel carving had done earlier. Everyday wonders that she never saw because she was so busy following her serious, purpose-filled life. What a waste…
She stood perfectly still until she got herself back under control. Maximilian didn’t seem to mind the silence. Nor did he take advantage of it.
But her life was still full of purpose. She said, “Do you know where he is?”
His hair, scattered with snowflakes like the picture on some sexy Christmas card, stirred in the breeze. His arm fell away from her, and she suddenly felt the full chill of the night.
“Still with Gavril,” he said. “And three others, two of whom were in Scotland with him. I’m still searching.” He took something from his jeans pocket—the stone compass—and crouching down, he plunged his free hand into the snow, presumably until it hit the stone base of the glass dome. “They’re taking him outside tonight. I need to find a link.”
It seemed a ridiculous concept, that crouching on a snowy roof with a compass in one hand could possibly discover a child hundreds or even thousands of miles away. She opened her mouth to say so, but before she could, his dark eyebrows shot up. His eyes were fixed on the stone compass, and his sensual lips curved into a smile.
“Got him,” he murmured. “At last.”
Mihaela stepped forward, instinctively trying to see the pointing needle. It seemed to flicker crazily in the erratic light from the dome. Maximilian rose slowly with effortless grace, bringing his body upright, far too close to hers. Before she could step back, he stretched out his hand, holding the compass at arm’s length, resting his forearm lightly on her shoulder, as if for steadiness. Excitement soared. She was afraid to move in case it caused Robbie to disappear again. In case it made Maximilian step away from her.
Slowly, Maximilian lifted his other arm, rested it on her other shoulder, as if he now held the compass in both hands. And gradually, his gaze shifted to her face, to her lips, and her eyes. She couldn’t read minds. But she was sure he was remembering what they’d done in his cave. She could see her own wicked excitement reflected in his eyes, and it stunned her.
Robbie. Focus on Robbie.
“Where is he?” she got out. Her voice sounded husky.
“South,” said Maximilian. “I need a map.” And with one of his shocking changes in speed, he simply swept her up and ran off the roof. She closed her eyes in instinctive terror and felt his cheek pressed to her forehead, and then, for an instant, his mouth took hers.
It might have been the crazy, flying jump that jumbled her stomach. Or it might have been the fleeting kiss that ended even before he landed and let her feet slip back to the ground. His body was just as hard and lean as she remembered it. She came to rest against the blatant bulge of his erection.
He released her slowly, and she realized all over again how bloody cold she was. She shivered, blinking to clear her head, and saw, belatedly, that his body had tensed, the muscles bunching to spring.
Three vampires glided out of the shadows and stopped in the middle of the street. One female, who looked like a punk version of a dancing girl from Toulouse Lautrec, and two men, fit and armed to the teeth with knives, swords, and stakes they didn’t even trouble to mask.
Oh shit… Boy, did Gavril want her dead. She should be flattered. Instead of scared shitless that he could command this level of support.
But one of the vampires spoke, and it wasn’t her name.
“Maximilian,” he said. And he didn’t just incline his blond head. He bowed.
Allegiance. He was offering Maximilian allegiance.
Her head reeled at this new development. Was this the real reason Maximilian had come back to Budapest? Or was he planning to use the kudos of stopping Gavril’s plans in order to further his own ambitions and topple Saloman? And how the hell was she supposed to feel about any of this?
Although she hadn’t sensed his movement, there was a good twelve inches now between her and Maximilian. Somehow, he seemed bigger, more threatening than she’d ever seen him, even during the actual act of killing. Her throat dried up. For the first time in her dealings with him, he looked every inch the vampire who’d commanded all the turbulent undead of Eastern Europe for several decades.
He stood still, straight, and loose-limbed. His eyes were cold and implacable, his expression unreadable apart from the faintly contemptuous curl to his lip.
He said, “You bow to Saloman.”
“We bowed,” the blond vampire said deliberately, “to you.”
Maximilian flew at him in a blur. She didn’t even see how the fair vampire hit the ground, but she saw Maximilian plunge his own stake into his heart. And then, through the undead dust, he was on his feet, spinning to face the other two who stared at him in shock.
He took one pace forward, and they fled.
Slowly, Maximilian lowered his arm and dropped the stake. It fell to the ground with a clatter as he turned and walked back across the road to her.
“What the hell…?” she managed.
“I’m sorry. No one was meant to know I came to the Angel. But I unmasked to frighten your late friends away.” He jerked one hand behind him. “They must have tracked me here.”
“But—why?”
An oddly tired, cynical smile touched his eyes and lips. “They were offering me their support against Saloman. Look on the bright side. It could have been the others.”
“What others?” she demanded, bewildered.
“The ones who want to kill me. Vampires have long memories to go with their long existence. I annoyed a lot of them when I led the east European vampires. I annoyed even more when I lost to Zoltán and walked away.”
She began to understand why he stayed away. Now he was the center of a maelstrom that wouldn’t leave him. A tool for the discontented against the rule of Saloman and a focus of anger and vengeance from the past.
She swallowed. “What will you do?”
He shrugged. “I just sent a message. It might be enough.”
She could tell he didn’t believe it.
His lips quirked. “Word is out. You nee
d to be away from me right now. Well away.”
Before she could answer, he’d spun around and was running up the hill. The distance yawned between them as she pulled her thoughts together.
“Wait!” she yelled after him. “Where is he? Where’s Robbie?”
“I’ll tell you,” he said over his shoulder and disappeared from view.
Chapter Eleven
When Maximilian charged into Saloman’s study, he was vaguely aware of disturbing another quiet moment between his creator and the Awakener. They seemed to be having a lot of those recently, but right now Maximilian had more important things on his mind.
At least they weren’t actually coupling. Not that this would have embarrassed either Maximilian or Saloman—vampires were quite open about their sexual proclivities—but Elizabeth’s outrage might well have made marching in and demanding an atlas rather more difficult than it turned out to be.
Saloman took his head from Elizabeth’s lap and rose to help him locate one.
“You’ve found the child,” he observed, walking across to the largest bookcase where Maximilian was already scanning the shelves with impatience.
“I got a reading,” Maximilian said. “From the top of the Angel of all unlikely places.”
“I thought you hated the noise,” Elizabeth said provokingly. She sat curled up on one of the chaise longues, her glorious, strawberry-blonde hair loose about her shoulders. She wore a full, soft skirt that flowed over her knees and the cushions around her, and looked relaxed and beautiful and sexy. Even in the midst of his urgent mission, Maximilian could understand some of what bound Saloman to her.
“I didn’t go in,” he said. “I just killed a couple of vampires outside.”
“Shouldn’t you clap him in irons or something?” Elizabeth suggested to Saloman.
“One was trying to kill Mihaela,” Maximilian explained as he grabbed the atlas from Saloman’s hands and threw it onto the table in front of him. He flicked through the pages, ignoring Elizabeth’s demands for reassurance of Mihaela’s safety, until he found the large map of Budapest. While Saloman soothed her, Maximilian laid the stone compass on the page, and worked out more exact coordinates.
Blood Guilt Page 14
