She made her way to a pile of boulders and wormed her way between two of them, sheltering beneath an overhang. The granite should shield her presence from all but the very strong-minded, and it was the best she could do on short notice. Settling on her haunches, she drew her glass from an inner pocket, blew on it to cloud its surface, and began a low, determined chant. Focusing power was rather like easing a shredded bit of thread through a narrow needle. Doable, but requiring intense concentration.
It took far longer than it should have before images began to form on her glass.
Hurry. Give me what I need to know.
An image formed but then slipped away before she could interpret it. Ketha poured power into her working, the glass unstable in her sweat-slick fingers. She was close. So close she could almost taste it.
A sound that shouldn’t be there nagged. She blocked it out. Absolute attentiveness would kindle her spell. Nothing could interrupt her. Their survival depended on her success. She had to “see” which path would entice the Vamps to work with them. For her gambit to work, she might need to play out several scenarios, but she had the time—and the magic—to experiment a bit.
“Run!” the wolf shrieked into her mind.
Before she could react, blinding pain flashed as something hard and heavy crashed down on the back of her head. Her glass slithered from between her hands, and she slumped to the ground, fighting blackness. Just before it claimed her, the stench of Vampire invaded her nostrils, and she cursed herself for being a fool.
Ketha woke in the middle of a dozen Vamps. Iron burned her skin where manacles circled her ankles and wrists. If she’d thought the smell was bad before, it was an absolute reeking horror now. Vampires smelled of blood and death and rot. How could any Shifters worth their vows align themselves with these bastards? Taking care to be stealthy, she glanced about an oval room, inlaid with wood. It had a church-ish feel that was clinched when she spied a Christ figure attached to one wall.
Close to a dozen Vamps crowded into the space. All of them held an eerie beauty, but Ketha wasn’t fooled. Their striking good looks ran less than skin-deep. Skilled, ruthless killers, they counted on blood to survive. Living blood. Blood tapped from dead things ran a poor second.
The back of her head throbbed painfully, and she shut her eyes to buy herself time to think. Maybe no one had noticed she wasn’t unconscious. The Vamp standing nearest kicked her, right before he ordered her to wake up.
She flinched away from her attacker. Eyes flickering open, she regarded the one who’d struck her. Long, dark hair fell around his perfect face, and he augured fog-colored eyes her way. Ketha edged beyond easy reach of his booted feet into a sit, awkward because of her bound limbs. She didn’t waste words telling him she was already awake, or that no one could rest easy in their midst. She stared at a newly dead rat clutched in his hand and beat back a knowing smile. If they were using rats for blood, the Vampires were in as desperate a predicament as she’d assumed.
“You’ve captured me,” she sneered, opting for defiance. “Now what? Do I get to be everyone’s dinner?” She swung her head from side to side, encompassing the room full of Vamps. “At least remove my shackles. If I’m going to die, I’d rather face you as a wolf.”
The rat-wielding Vamp didn’t answer.
“I’m Ketha.” She held onto her slender advantage and flowed to her feet. Once she got her balance, she folded her arms as best she could beneath the swell of her breasts. “Rat got your tongue?” She jerked her chin at the rodent still clutched in the Vamp’s hand.
Before he could answer, she kept right on rolling, taunting him. “If you’re going to kill me, get on with it, but know this—” She summoned what magic she could, given the iron circling her wrists and ankles. The air about her shimmered with the blues and golds unique to her castings. “You will never escape Ushuaia without us.”
The Vamp faced off against her. “What makes you think we want to escape, Shifter?”
Ketha shrugged, favoring him with the full force of her gaze. “You like it here? Soon there won’t be anything left to eat or drink, and then all of us will die. Even Vamps. But if you’re good with that”—another shrug she hoped spoke for itself—“I suppose there’s nothing to talk about. Go on.” She made shooing motions with her bound hands. “Get on with it. I’m prepared to die. We don’t have too many more months here at the ass end of the world before none of us will be left. Take a chance, Vampire. Face my wolf.”
The Vamp smiled coldly. “I’ll pass. I suppose you have the answer to all our problems.”
“I do.” Ketha let a small, secretive smile play about her mouth. “But I’ll never tell you. Funny thing about being captured. It quiets the tongue.”
The Vampire’s chilly expression didn’t change. “Show some respect. No one addresses me that way.”
“It appears I just did.” Ketha tossed her shoulders back. She’d be damned if she’d let the blood-sucking bastard intimidate her. “You need us. Unfortunately, we need you as well, but what I had in mind was equal partners at a conference table, not being knocked over the head and dragged here.”
Satisfaction warmed her when a vein throbbed in the Vamp’s temple before he crushed the rat to bits of bone and tissue, splattering her with blood. Apparently, she’d gotten to him. What that meant remained to be seen. He summoned one of the others, a Vamp named Viktor. Ketha watched with interest when the other Vampire—clearly some minion—didn’t race to comply, but took his sweet time making his way to where they stood.
Another gorgeous man. This one had copper-colored hair that fell to his shoulders. A high forehead, square jaw, and emerald eyes made him movie-star dazzling. Ketha bit down on her lower lip to force her thoughts away from his allure. Like the other Vampires, he was dressed in a motley collection of rags. Either they couldn’t sew—or they had no idea how to create garments that resisted decay.
As Viktor drew near, she assessed him with magic and shielded her surprise. He didn’t feel anything like the one with bloody rat remains on his hands, and the characteristic rot smell was absent. Moving with the unholy speed characteristic of his breed, Rat-Vamp slapped cuffs atop her manacles and snapped, “Take her to the caves,” all but shoving her into Viktor’s arms.
Viktor latched a hand firmly around Ketha’s elbow, focused his attention on the other Vampire, and asked, “What then?”
Rat-Vamp sent a sharp look his way. “Lock her up and return. I’ll decide her fate once she tells us whatever she knows about escaping Ushuaia.”
“I already explained how that would happen.” Ketha made her tone pointed. No reason to be subtle around these fuckers; they didn’t deal in nuance. “At a conference table as an equal. So long as you hold me captive, my wolf and I will die before we help you do anything.”
Rat-Vamp shifted his gaze her way. “It appears we’re at a stalemate. Perhaps some cell time will alter your perspective.”
“Don’t count on it.”
She turned her magic toward Viktor, wanting to know what was in his mind. The answer shocked and thrilled her. This one was different, malleable. It wasn’t her imagination that he’d dragged his heels reacting to Rat-Vamp’s command. Viktor might be her ticket to freedom. He might actually let her go—if she played her cards right.
“Lead out.” She hip-butted him to spur him into action. “This room stinks of Vampires, and it’s giving me a headache.”
Rat-Vamp snarled and lunged for her, wrapping his hands around her shoulders and shaking her until her teeth rattled. “Keep a civil tongue in your head, or I’ll rethink my generosity. Never forget who runs things in Ushuaia. This is blood’s dominion. My dominion.”
Ketha stood her ground. “Funny, but I thought I and my Shifters were in charge. Besides, if you were going to kill me, I’d already be dead.” Ketha could’ve said more. Could have voiced her suspicion that he was intrigued by what she’d said, but she opted to keep her mouth shut. The sooner the weak one left with her, t
he sooner she’d be free.
Hopefully.
Rat-Vamp drew back his lips and extended his fangs, bloody from his earlier skirmish with the rat, but he didn’t say anything further before Viktor herded her from the room.
“Remain quiet,” Viktor said sternly and shepherded her toward a stairwell. “Vampires have excellent hearing.”
Ketha took a chance. Easy enough since she had nothing to lose. Could he hear telepathy? Now was as good a time as any to find out. “I’m sure they do, and you don’t want them to know what’s in your mind. Lucky for you, Vamp magic can’t hold a candle to mine, even bound as I am by iron.”
They’d started down stairs dimly illuminated by long-unwashed windows. A startled look flashed across his face, and it gave her hope. “Son of a bitch. You heard me.”
Sworn Enemies
“So what if I heard you?” Viktor aimed for harsh and hoped to hell it came across. He had one objective, and it was to get the Shifter out of the building and well on her way to the caves—without any other Vamps coming along for the ride. If that happened, it would force his hand. And he hadn’t yet decided quite what to do with the woman shambling along next to him, iron links clanking with every step. Defying Raphael when there were no witnesses was one thing. Open insubordination, quite another.
“Sorry. Doesn’t matter,” she replied, her voice rich, deep, lyrical.
The edges of her magic settled around him, soothing, calming, as they trudged down interminable flights of stairs. Her energy pushed him into a place he’d all but forgotten, and he craved it while recognizing how dangerous it was. Anything that happened regarding the Shifter had to be cautiously choreographed, or Raphael would separate his head from his body without a second thought.
He might be Raphael’s favorite at the moment, but Viktor had seen his sire’s favorites change many times. Small things set the Master Vamp off, and losing the manacled Shifter by his side would be far from inconsequential. He’d have to have a convincing excuse and an airtight explanation for how it happened.
Ketha cast a speculative glance his way, and he did his damnedest to shutter his mind against her.
Would it work? Could she still burrow her way in?
She held her silence, but the corners of her full mouth twitched in what looked like amusement as they reached the door leading outside. Viktor pulled it open and shoved her through. Wind howled down the street, moving small rocks and debris with it.
Hunching against the gale, he tightened his grip on her arm and said, “This won’t be pleasant, but we have to walk to the far side of the harbor and up into the hills.”
“I can’t make very good time with my ankles lashed together.” Her words were totally without inflection.
“You don’t have to make good time.” Viktor swept an arm beneath her knees and lifted her easily. Once she was secure against his chest, he took off at a lope. Finally, a use for his strength. It was the only plus he’d found since being turned, but he’d had little enough opportunity to take advantage of it.
“Who was the one with the rat?” Ketha’s words were muffled against his body.
“Raphael. He’s my sire, and the sire of most of the Vamps here.”
“Only most?” Her voice held mild amusement. “Why not all of them?”
“Some were here before he got here. Beyond that, it doesn’t work anymore. Not well, anyway.”
“What doesn’t?” She moved her head away from him long enough to meet his gaze.
“Making new Vampires. The draining and restoration that creates more of us.”
“Not at all?”
“It works occasionally because two or three have joined us this past year. Humans Raphael caught wandering outside their compounds.”
“Fascinating. You’re kind of like us, then. Your magic is weaker, but not gone entirely.”
Her golden eyes were hypnotic, and he wanted to lose himself in their depths. They reminded him of his days at sea, of his life before Raphael got hold of him. He jerked his chin upward. “Stop it.”
“Stop what? Asking questions?”
“Trying to snare me with your magic.”
She laid her head back against his chest. “Ah, but I already have.”
It was at least partially true, but he wasn’t about to admit it. Footsteps pounded from a long way behind him, moving with speed only another Vamp could muster. Viktor kept going. Let whoever it was work to catch up.
“Don’t worry.” Ketha used her mind voice again, the one that had totally unnerved him in the stairwell. “It’s not Raphael.”
Viktor didn’t mean to respond, but words slipped out anyway. “How do you know?”
“Because I read energy. Try saying the same thing, but not out loud. I’ll hear you.”
The specter of secret communication with the Shifter was enticing, but Viktor shook his head. As deeply as she fascinated him, he recognized danger in dropping his barriers to let her see any more than she already could. If he freed her—or, more likely, set things up so she could free herself—it had to be because he saw the advantages, not because she’d ensorcelled him.
When he didn’t respond, she didn’t ask again. The option he’d glommed onto back in the city where freeing her had burned like a beacon, grew murky. He had to be absolutely certain before he threw down the gauntlet and defied Raphael’s will.
The old Vamp was canny. No matter what fabrication Viktor came up with, odds were Raphael would claw it to shreds, uncovering the truth. It was how he’d established—and held onto—his position as top dog.
Viktor focused power, working to push into her mind, but she rebuffed his attempts, regardless of how hard he tried. At least she didn’t mock him. Surely, she felt his blundering as he sought to break past her secrets, discover her true intent. They passed the far end of Ushuaia Harbor, and he headed for the overgrown path leading to the caves.
“You had to have heard me. Why didn’t you stop?” Juan called from not far behind him.
Viktor turned, waiting for the other Vamp.
Not even mildly winded, Juan trotted to where Viktor stood with Ketha in his arms. “Why are you carrying her?”
“To make decent time. Wind’s a real bear today, or didn’t you notice?”
Juan shrugged. Blond hair was dragged into a sloppy queue secured with a length of leather. His hazel eyes always looked like he was on the verge of laughing at something no one else knew about. A week’s growth of whiskers dotted his gaunt cheeks. “Guess I don’t pay it any mind anymore. The wind or much of anything else.”
Viktor headed uphill. “Why’d you follow me?”
“The question should be whether Raphael sent me.”
“Did he?” Viktor glanced over a shoulder.
Juan shook his head. “He dismissed us right after you left. I didn’t particularly want him to know what I was about, so I engaged in a few diversionary tactics before I started after you.”
Ketha lifted her head and peered at Juan, walking behind them. “I’m guessing this Raphael fellow isn’t well-liked.”
“Vamps don’t think in those terms.” Viktor kept his tone curt and hoped to hell Juan would have the intelligence to shut up.
“A well-liked Vamp is a dead one,” Juan cut in, his demeanor much too cheerful for his words.
“Sounds hideous.” Magic streamed from Ketha, headed right for Juan.
“Watch it!” Viktor snapped. “She’s been working on controlling me ever since we left the meeting room.”
“I’ve had worse propositions aimed my way. Juan, and I’m at your service, senorita.” He mock bowed and laughed softly. A native of Argentina, he’d been Viktor’s navigator back when they worked for Dynamic Oceans. “The reason I followed you is I want to know if the Shifter’s assertions are true.”
“So you can report back to Raphael?” Viktor asked.
“No. For myself.” Truth pinged cleanly off his words.
They rounded a sharp corner and came to an iron door
recessed into the steep hillside. Iron muted everyone’s magic, but Vamps weren’t all that susceptible to it—unless it was part of a blade that beheaded them.
“I’ll get it. Your hands are full.” Juan pushed in front of Viktor and activated the combination of keypad strokes that would spring the latch. The device was mechanical, but surprisingly sophisticated.
“I can walk from here,” Ketha spoke up.
Viktor set her on her feet. The warm place where her body had lain against his felt hollow, empty, and he fought a desire to scoop her against him again. She turned a knowing, golden gaze his way, tilting her head to make better eye contact. Before she could say anything, he clamped a hand around her arm and pushed her through the door Juan had already walked through.
A long, low, rounded tunnel led into the cave system someone had turned into a prison. Water ran down the walls, and the place held a perpetually dank smell. A small, dim globe of violet light formed next to Ketha, illuminating the walkway.
“It would be brighter,” she said, “but it’s a bitch to force much magic through all this iron.”
“Vamps can see in the dark,” Viktor informed her, surprised she wouldn’t know that fact. As he thought about it, though, it made sense. He knew less than nothing about Shifters. Why should they know anything about Vampires?
“Where do you want to put her?” Juan’s voice echoed, amplified by the tunnel’s odd acoustics.
“Same place I was,” Viktor answered.
“Now, there’s a story I’d like to hear,” Ketha murmured. “How long since Rat-Vamp turned you?”
They emerged from the tunnel, and Viktor stretched his back upright. He hated this place and wondered if she’d picked up on his antipathy. Still gripping her arm, he marched her toward the tail end of a series of cells formed out of rock and dirt. Juan already had the door of his old abode open.
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