Into the Fire

by Jeaniene Frost

  Dagon glanced at the crumpled body in the snow, then began to laugh with such heartiness that he bent over, holding out his hand as if he couldn’t stand to hear anything else this funny.

  “The price you want for your soul is for Mencheres to be alive?” he got out in between guffaws.

  “Ian, please, don’t do this! Mencheres would never want this for you,” I tried again.

  He shot a glare at me that actually made me back up a step. “Not another word, Leila. I like you, but I will kill you if you ruin this for Mencheres. Now, Dagon, I agree that this is foolishly, hilariously sentimental of me. However, if you’re quite finished with your giggles, do we have a deal?”

  Dagon straightened, his mirth gone. Now a predatory, bone-chillingly anticipatory look took over his face. “You don’t get the usual waiting period before I collect. That is for people who have never crossed me. You made a laughingstock out of me, so you only get one year before I come for your soul.”

  “One?” Ian blanched, then recovered quickly. “Yes, you have a right to be pissed, so let’s make it an even twenty, and that’s a mere tick of the clock for a vampire.”

  “One,” Dagon repeated.

  I wanted to do something to stop this, especially considering the smile that Dagon flashed at Ian. If evil could form into flesh, it would look just like that. But what could I do? I’d already cut the demon’s head off, and it had done nothing except make him scold me. Furthermore, Ian threatened to kill me himself if I interfered again.

  Ian made an exasperated noise. “All right, you drive a hard bargain. Ten years, not a moment less, and that’s a deal you can brag to Hell itself about.”

  Dagon shoved Ian forward until their mouths were close enough to kiss. “My best offer is two years. Take it, or I kill you now with no deal.”

  “Don’t do it!” I shouted despite Ian’s threat.

  “Done,” Ian replied in a shockingly calm tone.

  I sucked in a breath out of horror. As soon as Ian said that single word, something shimmered around Dagon, as if his aura had become visible and its color was pure black. Then it fell to his feet and began streaming toward Ian as if it were tiny, incandescent snakes. They curled around Ian’s feet until they stretched out and rose in the same darkly gleaming mass, shimmering around Ian in the way they had haloed Dagon.

  The whole mass wavered for a moment, as if fighting against something unseen, then it began to swirl together until it formed one long, continuous swath. That swath suddenly rose high and then plunged itself into the right side of Ian’s crotch. Ian shuddered, his lips flattening as if he were trying very hard not to scream.

  “Hurts, doesn’t it?” Dagon’s voice was back to that deadly, caressing purr. “That pain is only a taste of what’s to come when I return for you in two years. Until then, I will smile every time I think of my brand being where the warding tattoo used to be.”

  The last of that dark stream disappeared into Ian’s body. He shuddered violently before sagging forward, as if all his strength had left him. Then, he forced himself upright and flashed his teeth in something that wasn’t a smile.

  “Your turn,” Ian said, gesturing to Mencheres’s body.

  Dagon began to laugh. Not those hearty guffaws that had bent him double or even those childlike giggles. No, these were low, satisfied chuckles that oozed with malevolence. My skin began to crawl and I found that I’d started backing away again.

  “My part in this bargain was for Mencheres to be alive,” Dagon said with luxuriant hatred. “Already done, because the dead man over there isn’t Mencheres.”

  “What?” I exclaimed.

  Ian’s jaw dropped with disbelief. The demon gave him a friendly chuck under the chin. “See you in two years.”

  With that, Dagon disappeared.

  Chapter 44

  Everything was a blur of motion in the next moment. Marty lunged in my direction, fire flashed out of Vlad’s hands, and through the large hole in both sides of the farmhouse, I saw Maximus running flat-out toward us, his blond head bloody.

  But what registered the most was Ian’s face. It was filled with all of the shock I felt, not to mention a growing sense of dread that I couldn’t even begin to understand because I had nothing to relate it to. After all, what could possibly compare with finding out that you’d bartered your soul away for nothing?

  “Put your fire out, Vlad,” I hoarsely told him. “And while you’re at it, tell me who the hell you just killed, because it sure wasn’t Mencheres.”

  Vlad swung an amazed look my way. Marty skidded to a stop right before reaching me. Maximus was so stunned, he tripped and did a barrel roll in order to avoid faceplanting in the snow.

  “How did you figure it out?” Vlad asked in a flintlike voice. “His glamour hasn’t begun to fade.”

  Glamour. That’s how he’d tricked us into believing that the man who’d arrived was Mencheres! But why?

  “How did we figure it out?” Ian snarled, striding over to Vlad and hauling him up by the shirt collar. “At the cost of my soul, that’s how!”

  “Don’t!” I shouted when Vlad smiled in a dangerously genial way. “He has a really good reason for being upset, trust me!”

  Vlad looked at me, then back at Ian. “Explain,” he bit out.

  Ian let him go in disgust. “Why? You didn’t explain anything to us. No, you had a whole bloody plan worked out in order to fox Mircea’s captors into believing you’d done their bidding when you had no intention of complying. And I should have known! This isn’t the first time I’ve witnessed a doctored execution. That’s where you got the idea from, isn’t it? Is that Denise over there? Damn you, Denise, is that you?”

  I didn’t know who Ian was talking about, but Vlad must have because he said, “No. Denise has a heartbeat and the tape might have picked up on that. That’s one of the reasons why I needed a vampire instead of a shape-shifter.”

  “And you didn’t bother sharing your plan with any of us first.” Then Ian’s gaze landed on me. “Or did he?”

  “I didn’t know,” I said, feeling sick. “I swear, I would have never let you barter your soul to that demon if I had!”

  “You did what?” Vlad’s gaze narrowed and he looked around warily, as if expecting a demon to pop up. “When?”

  Ian muttered a string of profanity and didn’t answer. Instead, he walked toward the farmhouse, kicking the snow as he went as if he were furious with it, too. I didn’t try to stop him. After everything that had happened, I’d be in an incurably foul mood, too.

  “Apparently, some demon named Dagon has been after Ian, but Ian kept him away with a groin tattoo,” I filled Vlad in. “Don’t ask me how—I’m not clear on that. Anyway, when Ian cut it off, Dagon appeared and somehow froze time in this spot except I—I wasn’t affected.” I’d go into why later. “That’s why none of you were aware of what was taking place, but Ian offered Dagon his soul in exchange for Mencheres’s life. The demon agreed, and after he sealed the deal, he told Ian that Mencheres was already alive because the body over there wasn’t his. Then he disappeared and time unfroze, or whatever.”

  Vlad’s brow had kept rising as I spoke until, at last, it nearly melded with his hairline. Finally, he said, “If anyone else had told me this, I would swear they were lying or insane.”

  “I’m not lying, but you did,” I said, my hurt showing in my voice as I remembered trying to comfort Vlad after believing that he was torn up over killing Samir. “You lied every moment since Mircea’s captors carved that message into me. Why?”

  Vlad gave me an unreadable look. “For one, I needed the recording I just made to look authentic. You have a terrible poker face. So does Martin. And Mircea’s captors needed to believe that I had killed Mencheres as they ordered me to, especially when they hear that three of their members are missing and one of their nightclubs burned down. Worse, if they saw Mircea being burned at the same time that the warehouse fire took place, they’ll know it was me, so only my supposed obedie
nce with Mencheres’s death will save your life.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. Mircea had been screaming his head off when he’d gotten burned through me. His captors were vampires; our only chance that they hadn’t heard him was if they hadn’t been anywhere near him at the time.

  Yet if they had been, then they’d have to be stupid not to put together Mircea being burned through his connection to me with the club fire. Maybe this was why I hadn’t heard from him since. He hadn’t wanted them to know that we had a mental link as well through our flesh. If they were watching him like a hawk now, he wouldn’t be able to risk hurting himself to link to me.

  “Fine, I’m a bad liar, Marty is, too, and you needed our reactions to look real on the tape.” And boy, would they ever! “But Ian isn’t a bad liar,” I went on. “In fact, he probably lies for a living. Why didn’t you tell him what you were doing?”

  “Exactly for that reason,” Vlad said softly, glancing at the house that Ian had disappeared into. “I didn’t trust him.”

  I closed my eyes. Did I blame Vlad for that? No. Was I so, so sorry for the consequence of that lack of trust? Yes. “Then why did you go to Romania, if not to kill Samir? Or was that whole trip a lie, too?” I asked, opening my eyes.

  Vlad glanced at the body, which was still only a few feet away from the car.

  “It wasn’t a lie.” Sadness that wasn’t mine flitted across my emotions. “I went to Romania to ask for a volunteer from among my people for this very purpose.” Now pride and regret wrapped around my feelings. “They all volunteered, yet I chose Henri because he wasn’t part of my fighting force. You might remember Henri; he worked with Isa in the kitchens.”

  I started to rake a hand through my hair before remembering that I didn’t have any. I was so relieved to know that Samir was still alive, but I didn’t remember Henri, and I felt terrible about that. He’d voluntarily given his life in a ruse designed to save mine. I should never forget someone as loyal, brave, and self-sacrificing as that.

  “How were you able to do the glamour spell to begin with?” Ian hadn’t helped him with it. That much was obvious.

  Vlad gave me a jaded look. “I learned it on my flight over to Romania and practiced it on my flight back. Yet appearance-altering glamour alone wouldn’t be enough. I also had to show a body withering or Mircea’s captors would know that it wasn’t Mencheres. That’s why I couldn’t use the shape-shifter Ian mentioned earlier. It’s also why I couldn’t use a human. Furthermore, I had my people procure bones as old as Mencheres, if Mircea’s captors demand additional proof of his death.”

  He’d been thorough in his scheming, and I’d had no idea. From the lack of surprise on Maximus’s face, he had.

  “You told him, didn’t you?” I said accusingly.

  Vlad didn’t say anything and a spike of his irritation pricked my emotions. I jumped all over it.

  “Don’t you dare start with the whole ‘I’ve been outwitting my enemies for several hundred years, and I don’t need someone second-guessing my decisions now.’ I’m your wife, not one of your minions, so since you didn’t see fit to tell me all this before, you’re damn sure going to tell me now.”

  “I was going to tell you,” Vlad said, a hint of defensiveness coloring his tone. “I was going to tell everyone. All I needed was a few minutes of footage with authentic reactions first. I only told Maximus in advance because I knew Ian would react violently, and I didn’t want to stop him by lethal means. I didn’t, however, expect him to do that.”

  None of us had. If I hadn’t seen Ian barter his soul for Mencheres’s life with my own eyes, I might not even believe it.

  “I also didn’t intend to do this today, even though I mounted cameras around the exterior earlier just in case,” Vlad went on, sounding frustrated now. “When Mircea’s captors gave me their demand, I wrote back, ‘Ten days’ because I intended to find them and slaughter them by then. Henri’s death and this ruse was only to be a last resort, but the club fire forced my hand. Now this video should buy us a few more days to search for them—”

  “They’re in Pleystein, Bavaria, beneath a church that’s built on a quartz-filled mountain.”

  All of us turned. Ian was in front of the farmhouse, a satchel slung over his shoulder and blood coating him from the waist up. I was shocked at his statement, not to mention all the blood on him, but Vlad gave him a coldly appraising look.

  “How do you suddenly know that?”

  Ian smiled. Or at least, that was the closest thing I could call the cold tug of his lips.

  “Until you have to pay up with eternal damnation, a demon soul-bartering brand has its power perks. Add those perks to a century of learning all the dark magic I could memorize, plus slicing up our captive enough to get his attention despite the mirror spell, and I was able to yank Mircea’s location right out of the bastard’s brain. Where he is, his captors will be, too. And now, since I’ve more than fulfilled my oath, I’m leaving. I only have two more years left, and I’m damn well not going to spend another minute of it with your lot.”

  I was momentarily speechless. We’d gone through so much to get Mircea’s location, to now have Ian give it to us when there was still time enough to save more lives . . . well, saying thank you would be insultingly trivial. Yet how could I not say it?

  “Ian, thank you so much. Really.”

  He waved as if it were nothing. “I truly hope that you survive taking on these necromancers, Leila. Tepesh”—now his voice hardened—“don’t you dare tell Mencheres what I’ve done. He doesn’t need to grieve my decision when there’s nothing he can do to change it. Maximus”—a nod in his direction—“hope your loyalty doesn’t get you killed, and Marty”—another wave—“you seem a good lad, so stay out of trouble unless it’s fun.”

  With that, Ian walked over Henri’s headless body, took the car keys from the dead man’s pockets, and got into Henri’s car.

  “Wait!” I called out, running over to him.

  He gave me an irritated look but stopped in the middle of backing up. “What is it?”

  “It’s just that . . . I’m so sorry.” Once again, words were beyond inadequate in these circumstances, but no one had said that yet and someone needed to. “Isn’t there anything we can do to get you out of this?”

  His mouth twisted. “If Dagon were dead, I’d be free, but that’s impossible. I could kill him myself if he were only a regular demon, yet he can pause time. He’d piss himself laughing while I stood frozen in mid-attempt to stab his eyes out.”

  I seized on the chance. “I wasn’t affected by his pausing time, so I could kill him.”

  He laughed, then stopped when he saw that I was serious. “Time freezing isn’t Dagon’s only trick, poppet. He would rip you into pieces before you even got close enough to kill him. Thanks for the offer, but no need to throw your life away for nothing.”

  A flash of rage flooded with immeasurable degrees of oh HELL no! also told me that Vlad would never go for this, either. Fine, I wouldn’t do it, but maybe there was someone both strong enough and immune to Dagon’s time-pausing thing who could.

  “A few hours ago, I told you that people see only what they expect to see,” Ian said, his tone musing now. “Yet I didn’t credit Vlad with caring about Mencheres enough to be incapable of killing him. Instead, I saw what I expected to see—someone so ruthless that he’d murder Mencheres despite their long history together.”

  “That’s what I thought I saw, too,” I said softly, my heart breaking both for him and for my own lack of faith in Vlad.

  He snorted. “Yes, but if I hadn’t made up my mind that Tepesh was a coldhearted murdering bastard, I would’ve sensed magic’s presence from that other fellow’s glamour. I didn’t, and that’s on me. It’s why I’m not killing your husband for what his trick ended up costing me,” he added in an almost offhand way.

  I bristled even though I still felt horrible for him. “You mean, why you didn’t try to kill him,” I said, my tone making
it clear that he wouldn’t have succeeded.

  Ian snorted again. “Among too many other things to list, I managed to avoid one of the underworld’s most powerful demons for over five decades. Think a normal vampire can do that? No, luv. You of all people should know that sometimes, what looks like an ordinary Chihuahua is really a werewolf in disguise.”

  Then, with a distinctly wolflike smile, Ian began backing the car up again. This time, I didn’t try to stop him.

  Moments later, another car appeared, this one heading toward us. Ian honked twice when he passed it, but he didn’t slow down. When the other vehicle got close enough, I saw that it was Mencheres. The real one. When he finally parked and got out, he looked at the headless body on the ground with more exasperation than concern.

  “Now what did I miss?”

  Vlad’s emotions breached his walls, and the flashes I felt made me realize another shocking truth: Ian, Marty, and I hadn’t been the only ones he’d kept in the dark.

  “Why didn’t you tell him?” I whispered.

  A flash of ice-cold ruthlessness brushed my emotions, as quick as a bolt of lightning and as grim as the grave. That, combined with Vlad choosing to answer me this way instead of out loud, told me another shocking truth. He hadn’t told Mencheres in case he had to kill him for real in order to save my life.

  And he didn’t want anyone to know that, especially Mencheres.

  “No time to fill you in now,” Vlad replied, his emotions closing off again. “I’ll tell you while we’re on our way to Bavaria.”

  Chapter 45

  Winds tossed the falling snowflakes back up in the air, making the church they swirled around look like a snow globe someone had shaken up. The lone white building sat on top of a rocky outcrop of the quartz-rich mountain, making it tower over the surrounding landscape and town. A blanket of white bathed the flatter terrain below it before dappling the bare trees and landing in heavier dollops on the evergreens.