“She is,” Vlad said at once. “And I intend for us to remain together for a very long time. Now, do we have a true partnership, or do we leave you here to rot?”
Ian was silent for so long, I started to worry about being caught by the same people I’d just taunted Ian about.
“There are some things I can’t help,” Ian finally said. “They’re as much a part of me as your fire is to you, Tepesh.”
Vlad gave an oblique shrug. “I can understand that. But swear to change what you do have control over, and swear it on your love for Mencheres.”
Ian made a wistful noise. “I was so hoping you’d tell me to swear it on my honor.”
Vlad let out a bark of laughter. “Not in this lifetime.”
“Very well.” Ian bowed as much as the silver roots pinning him would allow. “On my love for Mencheres, I swear that I will honor both you and Leila as my true partners, and I will keep my insolence, trickiness, filthiness, and general knavery to as much a minimum as I can manage.”
“That was beautiful,” an unfamiliar voice said while ironic applause started behind us.
I whirled, ripping my glove off. Vlad’s hands were already lit with flames, and only Ian’s yell of “Stop, it’s Ashael!” kept us from flinging whips and streams of fire at the stranger who’d somehow managed to sneak up on us.
A tall, African-American man stared at us. His ebony suit and snow-white shirt were formal enough to wear to a ball, and he showed a marked lack of concern as he looked at Ian, pronged through with silver in a pit, then at the flames coating Vlad’s hands, and finally at the electricity-infused whip that dangled from my right hand.
“Did I come at a bad time?” Ashael asked in a dry voice.
Chapter 14
“You came five minutes too late,” Ian said, sounding very put out. “A little earlier, and these two wouldn’t have wrangled an oath out of me that I know I’ll regret.”
Ashael smiled, crinkling almost invisible lines near his eyes. His hair was close-cropped and a hint of a beard shadowed his jaw. I would’ve pegged him in his mid-forties, except he had no heartbeat. Not human, obviously, but he didn’t feel like a vampire. Ghoul, I decided, then changed that opinion when Ashael waved his hand and the silver roots piercing Ian began streaming out of his body as if they were snakes fleeing from a brushfire.
Okay, not a ghoul because telekinesis wasn’t one of their powers. If he wasn’t human, ghoul, or vampire, what was he?
“That’s much better,” Ian said, giving Ashael a salute. Then he flew out of the pit, wobbling for a minute when he landed. “Don’t suppose you have any fresh blood on you?”
“Alas, no,” Ashael said lightly.
Vlad’s gaze was all for the stranger, who smiled back at him with a casual pleasantness that deepened my unease. Ashael had to know who Vlad was; the fire coating his hands was a dead giveaway. Yet our new companion looked as relaxed as if he was meeting up with friends at a bar, and Vlad hadn’t even bothered to extinguish the flames on his hands.
“We should find somewhere private to speak,” Ashael said, with a nod at the hotel. “We’re bound to get interrupted here.”
Vlad still stared at him. Then he inhaled deeply through his nostrils, and I was startled when he yanked me behind him faster than I had ever seen him move.
“Sulfur,” he hissed, blasts of fire shooting from his hands now. “You summoned a demon, Ian?”
Ashael gave a dispassionate look at the flames. “You can put those out, Impaler. They’re mother’s milk to my kind.”
I was stunned. After many years picking up psychic impressions, I’d suspected that demons existed, but I’d never thought to actually see one, let alone meet one.
Ian stepped between Vlad and Ashael, waving as if warding off any arguments. “Your reaction is why I didn’t tell you. You never would’ve stood for it, and Ashael is your best chance to either find Mircea or break your wife’s spell.”
“You thought I would trust a demon?” Vlad’s tone was more than dangerous. It was death made into air.
“Trust?” Ian snorted. “Of course not. But barter with, yes. Demons are always in the market for a profitable bargain, and you do have an embarrassment of riches, Tepesh.”
Ashael glanced around. “Someone’s coming,” he said in a mild tone. “So I am leaving, with or without you.”
“With,” Ian said promptly. “No more tricks, as I swore,” he said, first holding Vlad’s gaze, then mine. “This is truly your best chance, I promise you.”
Vlad’s reaction to finding out that Ashael was a demon mirrored my own thoughts on the subject. We could never trust the debonair creature who looked like a slightly more rugged version of Idris Elba. But, as Ian had said, what demons lacked in trustworthiness, they might make up for in greed, and Vlad did have lots of fancy stuff and lots of money.
“We’ve come this far,” I said quietly, then smiled with grim humor. “And we don’t have anything else to do tonight.”
Vlad let out a short laugh. “I can think of many things I’d rather do, yet unique problems call for unique solutions.”
Ian breathed a sigh of relief, then put his hand on Ashael’s shoulder. Ashael placed one hand on mine and the other on Vlad’s. At once, angry green spilled from Vlad’s gaze.
“Don’t,” he began.
That’s all he got out before a whoosh stole his words away. Everything blurred with incredible motion, reminding me of the wild, sickening ride when the magical building had flushed us. This time, there was no water. Just a rush of air, sound, and light that left hotspots in my vision when I was finally able to see again.
We were no longer near that looming, magical building. In fact, I was pretty sure we weren’t in Georgia anymore since the sky was no longer midnight black. Instead, it was streaked with the last few rays of dusk. We had a great view of the sun disappearing behind the horizon, too, because we were on the roof of a high-rise hotel that overlooked the ocean.
And this was no normal hotel roof. It looked like a fancy courtyard and a country club combined, complete with impeccably dressed staff that showed no surprise at our sudden appearance. Ashael nodded at them, and at once, they politely whisked away the other patrons who were seated around an elegant, crushed glass fire pit. Then they bowed to Ashael with the same deference that Vlad’s staff showed to him.
“Where are we?” Vlad said.
“And what did you just do?” I added, still trying to process that I’d somehow dematerialized and rematerialized.
Ian gave an appreciative glance around. “We’re in Los Angeles, if I recognize the skyline, and Ashael teleported us here.” He shrugged as if both were no big deal. “That’s how demons get around, and if one has a hold on you, they can take you with them, too.”
Teleportation. No wonder we hadn’t heard Ashael approach us before! With that trick, he could sneak up on anyone.
Ashael strolled over and sat in one of the contemporary-styled chairs that were arranged to face the ocean. “Who else wants a drink?” he asked. “I’ll take my usual,” he told the nearest attendant, who bowed and then hurried off.
“A bourbon for me,” Ian sang out. “Tepesh? Leila?”
“Nothing,” I said, not surprised when Vlad refused, too. Ian might be acting as if Ashael were an old buddy, but this was no social visit for the rest of us.
In moments, the attendant returned with two bottles and two glasses. She poured Ashael’s drink first, and I couldn’t stop myself from checking out the bottle. What was a demon’s drink of choice? Triple malt Balvenie Scotch whisky, aged fifty years, according to the bottle.
“Please, sit,” Ashael said, nodding at the chairs next to him.
His smile made it seem like a request, but a flash of red in his eyes caused fear to skitter up my spine. Without one threatening word, Ashael was more intimidating than anyone I’d ever encountered, and I had come up against some real monsters in my short twenty-six years.
Yet all of them co
uld only hurt me in this lifetime. With that single flash of red, Ashael was reminding me that his kind could torment me well beyond death. I’d rather throw myself off the nearest ledge than sit next to him. Plunging headfirst from a high-rise building was probably safer.
Still, we needed him, so I was trying to formulate a polite way to refuse when a large, invisible blade suddenly sliced me from groin to sternum. I bent in instinctive need to stop my guts from spilling onto the ground, screaming as a sickening wetness rushed past my clutching hands.
Amidst the horrible pain, I was aware of two things: Vlad gripping me from behind, his fiery hands trying to cauterize the huge wound, and an answering wail in my mind that wasn’t part of my own uncontrollable screams.
Make him do it, Leila! Oh please, you have to make him do it or they’ll kill us!
Mircea. It had to be him, although I hadn’t recognized his voice. All the previous times, he’d sounded like the cruel, smug man that he was. Now he was so terrified, his voice had raised several octaves, until he sounded like a young boy.
Then do something! I thought back, fighting to push past the pain and focus my thoughts so he’d hear me. Tell me where you are and who “they” are, and we’ll stop this!
Mircea might have replied, but another brutal slash across my midsection emptied my mind of everything except the animalistic urge to get away from the pain or kill the person inflicting it on me. When I healed enough to overcome that mindless response, I heard Mircea over Vlad’s hoarse directive telling an attendant to get me blood.
. . . can’t! Mircea was saying. Even if Vlad could best them, he’d do worse than this to me if given the chance!
I gritted my teeth, shoving aside the wrist that some unknown person pressed to my mouth. Feeding now would be too distracting and I didn’t know how long I had to reason with him.
No matter what Vlad might want to do to you, as long as you’re tied to me, he can’t, I mentally snapped. He can’t even backhand you without hurting me, so you’ll fare a hell of a lot better under Vlad’s care than you will staying with the people who just gutted us twice for fun!
They didn’t do it for fun, Mircea replied in an ominous way. They did it because they want Vlad to know that they won’t hesitate to torture and kill you.
Couldn’t they just text him? I thought back sarcastically, then a chill went through me that had nothing to do with my drastic blood loss. Why would they want to torture or kill me? I don’t even know them.
No, but you’re the rudder, Mircea said darkly. And Vlad is the ship they want to steer.
I shuddered more from that than the new, far smaller burning sensations that pricked my still-healing abdomen in several places. Compared to being gutted over and over in quick succession, these were nothing. Make him do it, Leila! Mircea had said when he first contacted me. Oh please, you have to make him do it or they’ll kill us!
“Let me go,” I said out loud, pushing at the ironlike grip that encircled me. When Vlad didn’t budge, I said in a stronger voice, “Let me go! I think they’re writing something on me.”
Vlad’s arms dropped at once. I ripped off my blood-sodden blouse and yanked my skirt down. As I’d guessed, words were now forming across my abdomen. Whoever was doing this had taken a cue from Vlad because they were now burning them instead of cutting them into my skin. When a shiny gleam caught the last rays of the sun and they continued to hurt long after they should have healed, I let out a grunt of pained appreciation.
Mircea’s captors were also rubbing liquid silver into the wounds. Now, their message wouldn’t fade until we removed all the silver, giving Vlad plenty of time to read their demand, and they were obviously writing it to Vlad since it wasn’t in English. In fact, I didn’t recognize the language at all.
“Well?” I asked impatiently. “Can you read it?”
Shock flashed across Vlad’s features, answering my question before he spoke. Then I tensed as wildest rage blasted into my emotions next, until I was driven to my knees because my body couldn’t handle the sheer intensity of what Vlad was feeling.
“I can’t see it, what does it say?” I heard Ian demand through the overwhelming assault on my subconscious.
When Vlad spoke, his voice was a stunned rasp. “It says . . . it says, ‘Kill Samir and give us proof of his death or Leila dies.’”
Chapter 15
“Samir?” I repeated, horror filling me. “Not Samir, the captain of your guards?”
“Who else?” Vlad replied, his voice now edged with an emotion I couldn’t name.
I was shocked into stuttering. “B-but you can’t. Samir’s our friend. He’s been with you for over five hundred years!”
Ashael whistled. The sound snapped my head up and I looked at him, but the demon wasn’t looking at me. He was staring at Vlad.
Vlad’s expression had been twisted with frustration and pain as he’d watched me being cut open over and over, but now it hardened into a blankness that actually frightened me. Never before had he looked so cold, as if he were dead inside. If his shields weren’t cracking, sending out bursts of geyserlike emotions into mine, I would’ve sworn that he was dead inside.
But he wasn’t. Another massacre-inducing rage roared through our connection, so strong it took several moments for me to feel the hopelessness beneath it, like spikes being hammered into Vlad’s soul. Viciousness at its most primal followed, then the burn of bitterness, and finally, the agony of remembered loss.
That agony grew, until it covered over everything else. When it was done, Vlad felt like scorched earth inside, and when that charred darkness touched me, I recoiled from it. Then the link between us slammed shut. The abrupt loss was like having half of me suddenly ripped away, and in some ways, that’s exactly what had just happened.
“Stay still,” Vlad ordered, his hand splaying over my stomach. Their heat flared and I choked on a scream as I felt my flesh blacken and blister. His grip tightened, keeping me pinned to the ground, and in a few moments, the pain faded. When I looked down, the silver-embedded, murderous directive was gone.
“You can’t do it,” I said, my voice ragged. “Betraying and killing your friend will destroy you.”
“And losing you won’t?” he said, with a bleak little laugh.
“We’ll find another way,” I insisted.
He drew me to my feet, stripping off his jacket. It was soaked with the same blood that had my shirt wringing wet, and he pulled that off me, throwing it to the ground as if it were foul. My bra followed in a wet heap, leaving me topless for the few seconds it took for Vlad to take off his own shirt and settle it over me. It hung to my thighs, and I kicked off my scarlet-soaked skirt without being prompted.
“Thanks,” I said, not even caring that I’d flashed a rooftop full of strangers during this exchange.
His hand settled beneath his former shirt to rest on my stomach. “Anything for you.”
He began to stroke my abdomen. I leaned closer, but then one of his fingers suddenly turned stovetop hot, leaving a burning path in its wake.
“What are you doing?” I gasped.
He didn’t speak, but one look into his hard, flat stare and I figured it out. I tried to wrest away and his grip tightened, his other arm a cage I couldn’t escape as he continued to scorch his reply to Mircea’s captors into my flesh.
I couldn’t tell what he said, but whatever it was, it was short. When he was done, he gripped me to him, not letting go until his reply had faded from my flesh.
“Dammit, Vlad.” Tears clogged my throat, but they weren’t from physical pain. That had vanished along with the words on my stomach. “You can’t do this!”
With my face pressed into his neck, I both heard and felt his scoff. “I’ve done far worse, and for less reason. You keep forgetting that about me, Leila.”
I opened my mouth to argue, then shut it. We had an audience, and an untrustworthy one at that. In fact, we’d already revealed too much to this group. I wasn’t about to give them any
more ammunition.
We’ll fight about this later, my look promised Vlad. There had to be a way to avoid killing Samir without signing my death warrant, too.
Vlad drew back until we were standing shoulder to shoulder, yet he kept one arm folded around me. The demon sat exactly where he had been, his hand around his glass as if he were about to take a drink. Ian had risen at some point, and he actually looked a little pale as his gaze flicked between me and Vlad.
“You didn’t tell me that the spell she was bound with could do that to her,” Ian said quietly.
“Why would I?” Vlad replied, green flashing in his eyes.
That’s when an important fact belatedly hit me. Yes, I was slow on the draw, but in my defense, a lot had happened in the short time since we’d been teleported by the demon.
“You look like you again,” I said, running my fingers over Vlad’s dark hair, then touching the stubble that shaded his jaw. “And I’ve been saying your name instead of Angel, plus, I must look like me again, too,” I added, feeling that my hair was long again instead of short. How had I not noticed that before? Guess trying to keep more of my guts from splashing onto my feet had been a real attention-getter.
Vlad frowned, looking at Ian. “I didn’t notice you doing anything to break those spells.”
“He didn’t. I did when I brought you here,” Ashael said, only now getting up from his chair. “I wanted to know exactly who I was dealing with, and undoing a bit of glamour as well as that other little spell is a small matter for my kind.”
“Demons do magic?” This day kept getting worse and worse.
Ashael’s little smile turned into a full-fledged grin. “Of course. Who do you think invented it in the first place?”
Chapter 16
“So . . . demons invented magic.” Why was I repeating what he’d said, as if doing so could change anything?
Ashael continued to smile. “Who else? Humans couldn’t have conceived of it, and vampires and ghouls came afterward when Cain was cursed.”
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