There was a pause, then: “Sure.”
While Elizabeth made the call, Mihaela took the empty mugs back into the kitchen. The taxi summoned, Elizabeth followed her. “Sorry for waking you up and hitting you with all this. I know it could have waited till morning.”
“Sometimes you have to talk. What you need is a good dose of normality.”
Elizabeth smiled. “If only to remind me why I need to be taken away from it?”
“Exactly. Come for dinner tomorrow night. By yourself,” she added, presumably just in case Elizabeth got the wrong idea and brought Saloman. “And whatever happens today, we won’t talk about any of this stuff.”
“Bet we will,” Elizabeth said, and Mihaela smiled, clearly taking that as she was meant to: as an acceptance.
In the morning, after a bare three hours’ sleep, Elizabeth found another e-mail from John Ramsay. He’d hooked up with Rudy and Cyn, thanks to her reference, and seemed to have joined the little private army they were forming in New York. Though it was all part of his necessary quest for learning, which Elizabeth thoroughly approved of, she wasn’t sure about this latest venture of the unofficial hunters. Paramilitary organizations made her uneasy, and Cyn didn’t talk to her enough for her to get the gist of what she was up to. The American, she thought, was the opposite of herself; Cyn needed to think more and do less.
Rushing as she was, Elizabeth merely dashed off a quick reply. “Hope you find out what you need to. Take care—there’s still a bit of a leadership dispute in America. Avoid confrontation with the vampire Travis, who’s strong and wily but won’t kill you without provocation.” Her fingers paused on the keys. Telling John, Rudy, or Cyn to use her name to save their lives from Travis stank suddenly and unbearably of playing God again, of choosing who was to live and who was allowed to die. Saloman might be comfortable in that role, but she sure as hell wasn’t. She’d told John the score. She’d have to trust in his common sense and Travis’s semireformation.
She typed hastily, “Things a bit wild here in Budapest. Expecting a major attack, so may not be online for a bit. Best to Rudy and Cyn. Elizabeth.” Then she shut the computer lid with a snap, threw on the rest of her clothes, grabbed her bag and her phone, and made her way downstairs.
She’d come straight up to her own rooms last night. Pausing only for an instant outside Saloman’s drawing room door, she’d reached for the handle with trembling fingers, but she’d felt no trace of him. She’d let her hand fall back to her side and walked on to the staircase. One of the others had been in the house—Dmitriu or Maximilian; she couldn’t tell which. But it was interesting that she could sense the presence and know it was unthreatening.
And yet, after that night’s discovery, could she trust her instincts?
Storming away from Saloman had not been a mature way to deal with his behavior. If anything she’d just reinforced his view that she was some kind of ignorant child to be shown the error of her ways. Now, as she crossed the landing in front of his rooms, the longing to see him clawed at her. She needed to be with him, to tell him what she’d seen after she left him, what she’d so nearly done. She needed to carry on quarreling with him, or make up, or something.
She paused, staring at the doors to the drawing room. He was in there now. She couldn’t hear him moving, but she sensed him, as he would sense her. He could come out at any time and discover her, and she realized suddenly that she didn’t want the matter taken out of her hands. She wanted to be in control.
Decisively, she took a step toward the door, just as the phone in her hand beeped. She glanced down at it and saw a text message from Mihaela. There was a meeting with Lazar at eight thirty sharp and she should be there.
A rushed two-minute conversation with Saloman was not enough. Elizabeth dropped the phone in her bag and ran downstairs before she changed her mind.
“I want you to set up a meeting with Saloman.”
Lazar’s words cut through the brooding silence in his office, startling Mihaela out of her distracted thoughts. She glanced at Elizabeth in some alarm, but it was Konrad who demanded, “With what purpose?”
“With the purpose of finding out what the hell’s going on,” Lazar snapped. “And if vampire behavior is changing in the way Elizabeth and Mihaela both fear, then we can at least ask him to make them more discreet!”
“Why would he do that?”
Lazar stood up, indicating that the meeting was at an end. “Because, according to Elizabeth, he wants our cooperation. Let’s see his goodwill. Can you do this, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth nodded. “When? Where?”
“As soon as possible, and wherever he agrees to that doesn’t endanger the rest of us. Use your common sense. I want the team there. And you.”
Wily old Lazar. He’d already worked out that Elizabeth’s presence protected the rest of them. It made Mihaela slightly uneasy as she filed out of Lazar’s office with the others. She knew just from looking at Elizabeth that all was still not well between her and Saloman, and Mihaela didn’t want any inconveniently quick reconciliation interfering with her plans for the evening. But then, placing Elizabeth firmly on the hunters’ side at this civilized meeting of Lazar’s might be just the thing to shove the wedge further between them.
Elizabeth sat down in the foyer, texting. Good, thought Mihaela, reaching for her own phone. Keeps things more impersonal. She was glad to see she’d received a text of her own from Tarcal. “Love to. What time?”
She called him, suggested that he and his brother Rikard arrive around seven that evening. As she broke the connection, still smiling, she found István at her elbow.
“Got a hot date tonight?”
It wasn’t like him to ask such personal questions. He knew she was up to something. Mihaela took his arm and turned away from Elizabeth, who was still staring at her phone as if she expected it to do tricks.
“Not for me,” Mihaela said, low. “For Elizabeth. I’ve invited this friend of mine, along with his gorgeous, divorced, highly intelligent brother.”
István raised one eyebrow. “Sounds like you should snap him up.”
“Elizabeth’s need is greater,” Mihaela said dryly.
“You really think some ordinary bloke, however attractive, is going to displace Saloman for her?”
At his disbelieving tone, Mihaela glared at him. “Trust me, ordinary’s attractive to her right now. She needs to remind herself what she could have along with ordinary.” Mihaela cast a quick glance at Elizabeth, who’d just stood up and was listening to Konrad’s urgent speech.
Mihaela pinched István’s arm. “Look, I’m not saying she’s going to marry Rikard. She just needs to doubt. And so does Saloman. That would be enough to end this thing.”
István drew in his breath. “You’re playing with fire, Mihaela. You can’t tell people what to feel.”
“I’m not telling her,” Mihaela insisted. “I’m reminding her of options.”
“And have you considered the fallout for the rest of us if Elizabeth pisses Saloman off? Konrad, at least, is alive only because of her protection. To say nothing of the bigger picture.”
“What bigger picture would that be, István?” she said intensely. “The one where she dies through proximity to him? Or turns to please him? Or the one where he tells us all what to do?”
István stared at her. “You sound like Konrad.”
Mihaela opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, Elizabeth’s voice interrupted.
“The Angel Club this afternoon,” she said, referring presumably to the meeting she’d just arranged with Saloman. “And I’ve had an idea. Saloman told me once that in Turkey, Luk actually took over the house of a wealthy couple, living off their blood and mesmerizing them to do his bidding. I don’t think he’d pick on anyone so prominent in Budapest; Saloman knows it too well. But what if he’s taken someone with a lower profile to supply him with blood whenever he’s short? Have you looked into missing persons?”
“Good idea,
” Mihaela said, relieved to have something positive to do. István had made her uncomfortable with her own perfectly sensible plan for tonight; at least searching out vampires was something she had no doubts about.
As Saloman took a step backward, the better to examine the rather fine oil painting on the wall of the vampire Elek’s home, Elek woke up.
He sensed Saloman’s presence immediately, as he was supposed to, and sat bolt upright on the sofa. “Saloman!”
Saloman turned without hurry. The vampire sat tensely poised between flight and attack. But he must have known either response was useless. In the daylight, he had nowhere to go. He knew why Saloman was here.
“Have you come to kill me?” he asked. He sounded more resigned than angry. He didn’t even ask how Saloman had gotten there under the sun.
“It’s not yet a crime to talk to the execrable Dante, although it might be regarded as a lamentable lapse in taste and good manners.”
Elek sprang across the room, in the direction of the door. For a modern vampire, he was fast, might even have succeeded if Saloman hadn’t been ready for such an attempt. The odds were against Elek surviving anywhere, but here in this room, he obviously imagined he had no chance whatsoever.
Saloman moved faster than was strictly necessary. He had a point to make. But it gave him no joy to see the despair settle over Elek’s face when Saloman reached out from in front of the door and grabbed him by the collar.
After the first instinctive, useless jerk to free himself, Elek stood passive in Saloman’s hold. Fear surged out of him, helpless, despairing.
“How did you know?” he whispered. “Because I closed myself off?”
“Many have done that since my cousin Luk arrived in Budapest. They’re hiding from him at least as much as from me.”
Elek’s eyes narrowed. “But you wouldn’t be here if you thought I was hiding from Luk.”
“No.” Saloman released him and waved him to the nearest chair. Elek blinked in surprise, then slowly backed off to sit. Suspicion lit his watchful eyes. Saloman let his lips form a faint half smile. “I saw in Dante’s mind that you’d met him, made him some promises to come out for Luk.”
Elek wanted to avoid Saloman’s insistent gaze; that much was obvious. But Saloman gave him credit for forcing himself to look the leader he’d betrayed in the face.
“I did,” Elek said with a brave attempt at defiance.
“May I know why?”
Elek waved one impatient hand. “You know why. I miss the old ways, the old freedom to do what the hell I like without fear of being picked up for it by anyone more important than the bloody vampire hunters.”
“You miss the old ways,” Saloman repeated, gazing around the small but comfortable apartment, tastefully decorated and hung with good-quality lined curtains and carefully chosen pictures. A century-old globe and a sepia photograph of a Victorian lady stood on a shelf above a large television set. On the sofa beside Elek lay a handheld video game console.
Saloman returned his gaze to Elek. “What is it that you miss most? Creeping around a dank cellar from which you’re obliged to scare off interlopers every couple of weeks? Or being chased out by the hunters when they track too many bodies to your home?”
Elek’s gaze fell. “I didn’t say it was perfect. I just don’t see why we can’t have comfort with the old ways.”
Saloman curled his lip. “Because without law, you’ll have to protect yourself and everything you own from interlopers, and even if you can cope with that, the hunters will track all those dead people to your door and pursue you, and before you know it, if you still exist to know anything at all, you’re back in that dank cellar, scaring off interlopers every couple of weeks. You get the vicious-circle thing.”
Saloman strolled forward and rested his hip on the mahogany dining table. “It seems a waste of existence to me, but if that’s what you want, by all means follow my cousin Luk until I kill him. I could still arrange for you to live in the cellar, if that’s what you crave.”
Elek squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. “What is it you want of me?” he asked, low. “Why have you not killed me?”
Saloman considered. At least, he let Elek see him considering, just as if all his decisions had not been taken before he set foot in the apartment. “I do not wish to kill more vampires than I have to. Our success depends on a thriving population. And so, having pointed out the choices to you as I see them, I’m prepared to let you choose. And to pass on my reasoning to your comrades. If you don’t take too long about it. No one will die for returning to my fold.”
Saloman eased his hip off the table. “So, you may abandon everything we’ve achieved here and follow my cousin if you so desire. Although you should know that I will kill him, and after that I will not be feeling merciful to traitors. Or you can think about what we have gained here and the excitement of moving forward into a new future, not an old, miserable past. And return to me.”
He glided swiftly across to Elek, who pushed himself into the chair back as if trying to escape through the wood and fabric. The vampire’s stunned hope of survival drowned in a new surge of fear for his life. “You have until tomorrow,” Saloman told him softly. Through Elek’s unguarded eyes, he saw how he appeared to the other vampire: big, implacable, overwhelmingly powerful, his moment of mercy balanced on a knife edge.
“For now,” Saloman continued, “you may just tell me when and where Luk means to make his move.”
“I don’t know,” Elek whispered. He was like a dog groveling, except that among the abject fear was the hint of confused shame that was preserving his existence. For now. His mind fell open for Saloman, showing him all he knew. The meeting with Dante, which Saloman had already extracted subtly from Dante’s own mind in an instant of Luk’s distraction. The promises of freedom and protection that had sounded both beguiling and too good to be true. And Elek’s doubts, already there before Saloman’s visit. The knowledge of a devastating strike that would deprive Saloman of power and open the way for Luk’s new age of vampire dominance.
But no details. Dante had given none and Elek had read none. Luk was telling no one.
Saloman swung away from the defector. “You know how to reach me,” he said distantly. “When you’ve made your decision.”
He left by the front door and simply jumped through the stairwell to the ground floor. From the basement ran a disused drainage pipe that led to a nearby dump, where Saloman had parked his car. In the modern world, it was really quite easy to get about in daylight.
Which was fortunate, since he had a date at the Angel this afternoon. His pulse leapt as he thought ahead to that—perhaps because of what the discussions with the hunters might entail, perhaps because Elizabeth would be there. She’d avoided him since his stupid demonstration last night. His own fear of losing her had made him insensitive, led to bad judgments he couldn’t afford. Even last night, as he’d dragged her from human crime to cruelty, he’d been ashamed of distressing her; he knew she had enough to bear right now. And yet he couldn’t make himself stop until it was too late. Even understanding, she’d run from him.
Saloman dragged himself along the old pipe, ignoring the overpowering stench that would stick to his clothes, if not to his skin. Whatever his reasons, he’d pushed Elizabeth away, just as Luk had said he would.
As Saloman approached the circle of sunlight, he speeded up. The car waited for him, its door open, and he sprang inside with minimum pain, slamming the door. In the dump, a couple of boys, playing truant from school, were kicking a ball about among the rubbish heaps. They didn’t notice him, as they hadn’t noticed the open car, which he’d enchanted to near invisibility before leaving it.
He started the car and drove around the boys to the road. Saloman thought of everything. He’d even worked out what he would do if the world he was building collapsed under his failure—as it looked capable of doing now, as his support in Budapest trickled away. Ominously, there were vampires converging on the
city, not just from the Hungarian provinces but from Romania and Croatia as well. Their purpose wasn’t clear, and Saloman wouldn’t lose face by interrogating them over so many miles. Nor was he any nearer to discovering either Luk or his attack plan. So he had an exit strategy. But although he pitied the suffering of the world if Luk won, he wouldn’t give up. He’d begin again. Even without Elizabeth.
A dense, black chill settled over his heart. He knew she was still unhappy, but he didn’t know if he could make it right. Ironically, he’d helped teach her her own worth, which could well be what would keep her from him now. They both understood that she deserved more of him than last night’s clumsy lesson. She was Elizabeth, and she was his. Without her, the next centuries, regardless of whether he failed, would be unbearably dismal.
“I’m not convinced meeting here is a good idea,” Lazar said as Konrad pushed open the door of the Angel Club to let him pass inside.
“It’s quiet during the day,” Konrad reassured him, “and the staff is largely human.”
István, studying the detectors lined up in his backpack as they trudged upstairs, said, “One Ancient, one ordinary vampire. Some distance apart.”
Elizabeth saw him at once, seated by the bar. Her heart leapt into her throat. Pure longing drowned her lingering resentment, and she had to force herself not to run to him. But although he must have been aware of their entrance, he didn’t turn. Was he angry with her? How could she tell if he chose to hide it? Would it impact his dealings with the hunters?
No. Whatever else he is, he’s not trivial.
He appeared to be in conversation with the girl behind the bar, who gazed into his eyes with undisguised worship. At the very least, another blood source, Elizabeth thought savagely, before she remembered that Angyalka allowed no feeding on the premises. She sniffed.
Saloman wore black. He resembled a panther as he slid off his stool and walked to greet them, all sleek, lethal grace and rippling muscle beneath his silk shirt. Although his veiled gaze scanned them all equally, Elizabeth’s breath caught as his glance glided over her. A frisson of electricity twisted around her spine, distracting her from the point of this meeting. Since Konrad stepped back in distaste, Elizabeth performed the briefest of introductions.
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