Perhaps it would be a good time to make his presence felt at the Angel and gauge how many vampires were defecting to Luk. Recent telepathic sweeps had encountered a worrying number of vampire minds closed to him. This could be because the vampires were simply nervous, because they hadn’t yet made a decision, or because they’d already changed allegiance.
It wasn’t beyond Saloman to find out which by force-reading their thoughts, but aside from his personal distaste, that wouldn’t bring them back to him. He needed to impress. He needed to be seen by his people, particularly by those who hid. But Dmitriu was still out hunting, and Saloman would not leave Elizabeth here with no protection. Not when Luk could break just about every enchantment he’d ever set. Mostly because Luk had taught him and understood the workings of his mind too well.
Even insanity hadn’t prevented Luk from seeing into Saloman’s soul. He’d known exactly how to inflict the most exquisite pain, fully appreciated the effect of the doubtle betrayal on Saloman when he’d enticed Tsigana away. And the final, devastating blow of his attempted assassination.
When Luk had leapt on him, hurtling through the black, wet sky with murderous intent, the Guardian had been well aware that the identity of his killer would weigh far more with Saloman than death itself. Luk had known it would shrivel Saloman’s heart, had probably expected it to crush his spirit entirely. What Luk clearly hadn’t counted on was the black rage that had drowned Saloman’s despair, imbuing his lethal hands with a will of their own. Since the clouds of insanity had diminished Luk’s powers as a fighter, Saloman could have disarmed him and spared him. But fury had kicked the weapons from Luk’s hands, and rage had plunged the stake that killed him.
And so Saloman had been left standing over the still body of his dead cousin, whom he would have died to save, rain streaming down his face like human tears, as if water could wash away the blood. He was the last of his kind, alone for eternity.
Saloman shied away from the unbearable memory and returned to Dmitriu. He’d reluctantly let him stay, because of the added protection it afforded Elizabeth, and yet now that he was here, Saloman had to quash the eternal desire of the parent to know where his child was, and stop himself from seeking him across the city.
Mocking himself, Saloman glided downstairs, barely touching any of the steps with his bare feet, and entered his drawing room. Pulling back one heavy red velvet curtain, he looked down onto the quiet street, half hoping for a glimpse of Dmitriu. He wanted to feed on his way to the Angel. He’d already drunk from Elizabeth—increasingly this diet seemed to be all he wanted—but if he took all he needed from her, he would very quickly sap her strength. Right now, she needed all of that, physical and mental.
Leaving the curtain open, Saloman turned back into the room. Although he would never influence her to take the step, he hoped she would become a hunter. While they obviously planned to turn her against him in this way, he hoped for the opposite: that through her, they would learn his true value, gain an insight into the gentler side of his nature and the good that was to be found in vampires.
Unlike the rest of the world, the hunters’ organization had stagnated. You had only to look at Konrad to see that. Of course, during the three hundred years of Saloman’s sleep, vampires had done themselves no favors there—indiscriminate killing, chaos, and occasional mass slaughter did tend, in modern parlance, to piss the hunters off. But Saloman had made a start toward reversing the trend. He doubted Konrad would ever convert—and frankly, he was no loss—but the other two were more thoughtful and receptive. It would take time, naturally, but at least they weren’t shutting their ears or their hearts. And from them, the new tolerance and cooperation could spread.
Saloman sat down at the computer, read the news on various sites, flicked through his e-mail and fired off a couple of replies to the offices of two world leaders. Then he sprawled back in the wooden chair and thought about returning to Elizabeth’s bed. Except she needed sleep, and he needed blood. There was only an hour left until dawn, and if Dmitriu didn’t come home soon, Saloman would be reduced to biting the postman.
Worse, these days Elizabeth seemed to sense his hunger. And when she offered her smooth, tender throat to him, she was too damned alluring to resist. Blood and sex and Elizabeth . . .
Hard once more, he ran his hand over his crotch as if that could calm it, and rose to his feet. Something prickled the back of his neck. He spun fast enough to be invisible to the human eye, just as Luk swung through the glass of the middle window.
He landed a few feet away from Saloman, haloed in a sparkling cloud of falling glass shards. More from instinct than thought, Saloman threw up another barrier over the window to prevent any further invasion. Not that Luk couldn’t pull that one down too when he felt like it. But Saloman could sense no other vampires. For whatever reason, Luk had come alone.
Fastidiously, Luk shook glass off the sleeves of his dark velvet jacket.
“What an unnecessarily spectacular entrance,” Saloman said by way of greeting. “You could just have knocked.”
“I was in too much of a hurry to see you, cousin.”
“I’m flattered,” Saloman said, strolling toward the cabinet on which stood a decanter and two glasses. He began to pour without taking his gaze from Luk. “You must have worked quite hard to find me.”
Luk appeared to consider. “No. I worked quite hard to find your Awakener. Imagine my elation when I tracked her here and discovered not only her presence but your signature enchantments all over the street. You have improved, Saloman. I might never even have noticed them, had I not been so focused on your Awakener.”
“Thank you,” Saloman said politely. He picked up the two glasses and proffered one to Luk. “What do you want with Elizabeth?”
Luk walked toward him without hurry. Every one of Saloman’s senses strained to catch the faintest chink in his cousin’s armor, the tiniest potential threat in every move he made. It was a risk, being so close, and they were both aware of it. But at this stage it was important to display no discomfort, to acknowledge no danger. To remember the past, the best and the worst of it, with no more than detachment.
Luk’s gaze was deliberately neutral as it met Saloman’s. Neutral, yet hard as agate. Under Saloman’s stare, the corner of Luk’s right eye twitched, almost as if he were trying to keep the madness in, hold back something that raged out of control inside him.
Luk raised his right hand and closed his fingers around the glass. Saloman released it, and Luk smiled brilliantly. “What do I want with Elizabeth? I want to kill her.”
Saloman lifted one eyebrow. “You are aware she is my Awakener, not yours?”
“If you kill her, you might just be strong enough to threaten me,” Luk said thoughtfully.
“I have no need to kill her,” Saloman returned.
Luk sneered. “Arrogance was ever your downfall, Saloman.”
Saloman raised his glass in a mocking toast. “And yet here I am.”
“And here am I.”
“Indeed. Too late for sanity, too early for strength. You know I have to kill you again, Luk.”
Luk laughed, a wild, almost unnatural sound. “I know you won’t. Guilt won’t let you. The past has weakened you, as it has strengthened me. You could have killed me easily in Turkey, before Istanbul, and you didn’t. Here I am again, alone, weaponless, vulnerable to the attack you’ll never make, drinking your wine, killing your whore.”
Saloman moved before he meant to, hurling his glass so close to Luk’s head that it made a whizzing noise on its way to the wall, where it smashed.
“You will not touch Eliz—”
“Pardon, Saloman?” Luk lashed out, grabbing Saloman by the hair. Saloman broke the hold with the force of his fist and his mind, but it was too late. One touch was enough. Pain seized his head like a jagged claw, squeezing with galloping intensity, paralyzing him. He could barely see Luk crashing against the wall beside the bloodred wine still trickling there from the broken gla
ss. Saloman couldn’t reach Elizabeth to warn her; he couldn’t move to go after Luk.
I should have killed him quickly when I had the chance, he thought in blind despair. If he harms Elizabeth . . .
His cousin’s laughter echoed inside his head. Then his mind filled with Luk’s voice, so achingly familiar, so terrifyingly unfamiliar, adding to the excruciating pain and to the blinding fear and revulsion that now tore him into pieces.
I will touch Elizabeth. I will kill her, and you will watch. Elizabeth . . . come to Saloman. Come and see the pathetic power of your lover now.
Elizabeth woke to pain, terrible, gut-wrenching pain that she couldn’t even locate. Disoriented, she pushed herself up from the pillows, crying out, “Saloman!” Because the pain was his. Or at least some of it was—a physical one she could do nothing about and an emotional agony that seemed to tear her apart.
But more than that, something tugged at her, drawing her toward another frighteningly intense source of trouble: jumbled, dreadful, black with rage, jealousy, and weird, insubstantial longing. It appalled her, terrified her, and yet called to her. It even spoke her name.
Elizabeth . . . come to Saloman. Come and see the pathetic power of your lover now.
She threw herself out of bed, grabbing up the ivory silk robe that had been Saloman’s gift, and wrapping herself in it as she stumbled toward the door.
Hurry, Elizabeth, said the voice, tugging harder. From instinctive fear she pulled back, realizing at last that whatever Saloman’s pain, the one inflicting it was compelling her in his direction. The last veils of sleep dropped away, removing the dreamlike torpor that had surrounded her, and with it the pain seemed to vanish.
Straining, she yanked herself back several steps, fighting the growing compulsion. The stake she always carried lay on the bedside table. “What’s this?” Saloman had said, apparently amused. “In case I get too rough?”
“In case you stop,” she’d said huskily.
Her legs began to shake with the effort of moving against the opposite pull. With a jerk, she flung her foot back one more pace, reached out and grabbed the stake, and then, with a sense of relief that was almost more terrifying than all the rest, gave in to the ever-increasing coercion, all but running to the bedroom door.
Good girl. Speed it up now.
She hid the stake inside her robe, drawing the tie belt tight to keep it in place, and ran along the hallway, rushing down the flight of stairs to the drawing room. It wasn’t just the irresistible force that drew her; she needed to be with Saloman, to ease his pain if she could. Fear couldn’t stop either compulsion.
She saw them from the doorway. Saloman stood with his back to her, rigid but upright. Luk—of course it was Luk—lay sprawled against the wall between the windows, incongruously smiling. His gaze was fixed on Saloman with vicious satisfaction. Something red stained the wall beside him. Blood? She hoped it was Luk’s blood.
“Elizabeth Silk, the Awakener,” Luk said aloud, his voice strong and mocking. “Saloman’s latest whore.” He laughed. “I see you don’t like that term either. I had hoped you wouldn’t make the same mistake as Tsigana—imagining you were any more to him. Don’t just stand there, girl. Come in; join the party.”
Elizabeth’s feet moved forward without her permission. Her heart thundered; she hung on desperately to her train of sensible thought and observation, tried to shut out the wild speculation that would reduce her to helplessness.
“So,” Luk said without moving, “you let him fuck you in the hope of eternal life?”
“I let him fuck me because I love him,” Elizabeth said clearly. Closer now, she could look at Saloman. His eyes closed as if at fresh pain rather than comfort at her words. What the hell was going on?
“Oh, you love him,” Luk mocked. “Tsigana did too, for a time. Such a waste,” he mourned. “He doesn’t love you, you know. He can’t.”
“I know,” Elizabeth whispered. “It doesn’t matter.” Eat that, you supercilious bastard.
The expression on Luk’s face never changed; his gaze never flickered as it continued to hold Saloman’s like some bizarre staring contest. He didn’t appear to be picking up Elizabeth’s thoughts, although he still compelled her feet, drawing her slowly across the room toward him. Because, she realized suddenly, the bulk of his mind was preoccupied with Saloman. Inflicting the pain she’d felt when she first awoke?
“You don’t believe me, do you? Well, let’s have a rummage, see what we can find.”
A tortured groan was torn from Saloman’s lips.
“Stop it!” Elizabeth burst out. “What are you doing to him?”
“He hates this,” Luk confided. “Other beings fishing around in his mind. Frightened of it ever since childhood. His father, my revered and rather nasty uncle, was particularly good at it. Could tear secrets from a boy’s heart as easily as blinking, and destroy him with one good sneer. Saloman could never bear to be found wanting, but he always was. So by the age of eighteen he’d grown an almost unbreachable mind shield, hadn’t you, Saloman?”
Luk smiled and raised one hand toward the approaching Elizabeth. “No one gets in there now. Hasn’t for more than two thousand years. Except me. Help me up, Elizabeth Silk.” Elizabeth found herself bending from the waist and taking Luk’s cold proffered hand.
Luk’s smile broadened, perhaps at what he was reading in Saloman’s mind. “Oh, I see he gives you the odd tidbit—a little telepathic fillip to intensify sexual pleasure. Nothing of himself, though, nothing that makes him Saloman. He keeps his distance perfectly to avoid all that. It’s what drove Tsigana to seek other lovers, you know, that distance. It destroyed her as it would have destroyed you, Elizabeth, in the end. If I hadn’t been here to kill you first.”
Elizabeth’s body straightened, taking Luk’s almost crippling weight as he let her draw him to his feet. The bastard was actually using her to save his energy.
“You like the blood drink,” Luk observed, apparently pleased. “That’s good. It will pain Saloman more to see you die in pleasure given by me.”
Saloman jerked. “I won’t let you kill her.” It didn’t sound like him. It barely sounded at all. With an almighty effort that almost broke her heart, he took a staggering, trembling step forward.
It surprised Luk. The sudden convulsive squeeze on her wrist told her that. Although this might well prove a useful distraction, it had the unfortunate effect of forcing Luk to speed things up. Throwing one arm around Elizabeth, he jerked her against the side of his body so fast that she barely had time to withdraw the stake from her robe. At the same time his head seemed to jerk forward, almost as if he were throwing something at his cousin.
“So many pathetic fears, Saloman,” he said viciously. “No wonder you hide them.” As his head bent, the compulsion drained out of her. He controlled her physically now, or thought he did. Certainly, if Luk hadn’t been holding her, her trembling limbs would have collapsed. Gritting her teeth, she fought her own body’s weakness, refusing to give in to the fear.
She held her breath through her internal struggle, cringed at the first graze of his teeth. His incisors pierced her skin, and with the violation, rage finally came to her rescue. She could speak to Saloman.
Don’t worry. I’ve got him.
She laid the stake carefully against Luk’s back and pressed. At the same time, she summoned it all, every strength she’d ever acquired or been granted, every confidence in her own ever-increasing power. And every particle of hatred.
“I’m one of the very few beings on this earth who can kill you,” she said distinctly. “And I will.”
Luk paused on his first suck. Elizabeth ignored the throbbing pain. “Release Saloman. Release me.”
It hung on a knife edge. Elizabeth could almost feel him wondering whether he could drain her before she could drive the stake far enough into his heart. She wondered the same thing. But she was banking on Luk having used up a lot of energy in holding Saloman’s mind in torment, and in for
cing her cooperation. He needed this over quickly now. There would be another day for Luk. He could only get stronger.
She drew in her breath to push. Luk detached his teeth from her skin and raised his head.
“Lively,” he observed.
Saloman rocked on his feet and righted himself. Now was the moment to kill, and she desired it with a strength that frightened her. But a wave of someone else’s pain hit her. Saloman’s. A tiny distraction, yet enough for Luk to throw her off. She stumbled backward, still holding the stake, and found herself in Saloman’s powerful arms.
Luk’s lip curled as if starting to sneer, and then without warning his mouth relaxed, and the intensity of his stare increased. Terrified he was attacking again, Elizabeth reached up one desperate hand to Saloman’s face, her stake poised in the other. Saloman only caught her hand in his, gazing at Luk.
“She,” Luk muttered. “The missing piece. She and he . . .”
Uncomprehending, Elizabeth frowned, lifting her gaze back to Saloman for enlightenment. He said nothing. But his arm dropped. With the speed of lightning, he leapt at Luk. A blur of movement tangled before her, and an instant later Saloman stood alone by the window. The only sound was her own rattled breathing and a burst of insane laughter fading in the street below.
Saloman lifted his hand to the broken window and began to intone. Elizabeth used the moment to try to analyze what she’d seen.
Saloman let his hand drop to his side. “That should hold him up for a minute or two should he or his followers return.”
Elizabeth said slowly, “What the hell just happened?”
Saloman walked toward her. “We appear to have chased off the invading dog, and I have just re-marked my territory. Are you all right?”
“Am I?” She stared up at him as he came to a halt in front of her. He grasped her arms and bent to her wounded neck, licking it once before raising his head and releasing her. “Saloman, what did he do to you?”
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