by Morgan Hawke
The man stationed by the ladder stood very stiffly, eyes wide, and did not offer his hand.
Thorn shivered. She really, really didn’t want to get on that ladder with that…senator.
Yaroslav led her across the deck to the opposite, starboard side. Standing in the shadow of the poop deck, he looked over the edge. “I, too, have no desire to share the ladder with Senator Belus.” He unfastened his long coat and shrugged out of it, revealing a high-collared, black velvet tunic with full sleeves gathered into gold embroidered cuffs. The tunic’s full, heavily embroidered hem fell past the tops of his boots. He held his coat out to her. “Put this on.”
Thorn took his furred coat. “Over my coat and pack?”
Yaroslav nodded. “The wind will be very cold.”
“Okay….” Thorn tilted her head and shoved her arms into the sleeves, pulling on his coat over everything. “What about you?”
Yaroslav leaned close to Thorn. “Are you willing to give me your trust?”
Would she trust him? Thorn arched a brow at him. “With what?”
Yaroslav held out is hand and gave her a tight smile. “Your life?”
Thorn took his hand. “Yes.” She believed absolutely that he would do his best to keep her alive.
Yaroslav closed his fingers tight around hers and gave her a blinding smile. “Good.” Tugging her close, he sat on the brass rail and set one leg over the side. He scooped her up to cradle her in his arms. “Hold on very tight.” He smiled. “And do your best not to scream.”
Thorn wrapped her arms around his neck and scowled. “I don’t scream.”
“Is that so?” Yaroslav’s grin was positively evil. “Are you quite sure?”
Thorn looked down over the rail and sincerely wished she hadn’t. It was a very, very long way down. The bottom was so far away there were clouds below them, and dawn had yet to reach it. The trees looked smaller than blades of grass. She swallowed. “What are you planning to do, jump over the side?”
His brow lifted. “And if I say yes?”
She froze and then tightened her arms around his neck. She’d agreed to trust him; she certainly couldn’t back out now. “Okay.”
Grinning, Yaroslav tipped forward and fell into the sky, carrying her with him.
16
They fell from dawn’s light into the deep shadows of untouched night.
Clutching the vampire’s neck for dear life, Thorn held her breath and managed not to scream, but only just barely. The icy wind burned against her cheeks and made her eyes water.
Golden mist erupted all the way around the falling vampire. Red lightning arced and crackled.
Thorn felt a shimmering electrical current wherever her body met his. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t exactly pleasant either.
The mist expanded, darkened, and thickened around him, coating him in a second shape that expanded upward and outward. Something rather like a second pair of arms unfolded from his back and expanded. Gleaming midnight rainbow feathers formed and lengthened until he had a pair of enormous wings. A feathered tail spread behind him. His boots took on the appearance of clawed feet.
Thorn shivered. This wasn’t like the way she changed at all. She changed from the inside out. He was changing the outside, and hiding himself within. It was frightening; it was amazing.
And they fell.
Yaroslav’s winged form darkened and solidified. He lifted his chin, and his long black hair became a crest of black feathers. Midnight feathers spread all down his body until only the very center of his face remained exposed. His eyes enlarged and turned gold and round, like coins. The hands holding her became clawed, with the skin scaling to the elbow. The long feathers of the vampire’s raven wings rustled like leaves.
Yaroslav’s wings spread wide, catching the wind and slowing their decent into a long glide. His wings beat forward and fell back, churning the sky, literally swimming on the wind’s current. He turned with a head-reeling swoop, and they passed through the ship’s shadow.
Flight…. It was terrifying; it was exhilarating. Her breath exploded out of her in a peal of laughter.
Yaroslav grinned at her.
Thorn looked up at the bottom of the airship. It looked so small compared to the long balloon that held it. They sailed past the palace’s sunlit entry and then past tiered cliffs with ornate houses nestled on them. Where was he taking her? She tried to ask, but the wind ripped her voice completely away.
His shadowy thoughts moved against the back of her mind. The palace is not where I wish to be. The tip of his right wing lifted into a bar of sunlight. For a brief moment the feathers blazed with rainbow shimmers; then the feathers broke loose, as though cut, and disintegrated into black smoke.
Thorn gasped. What the hell…?
The vampire abruptly dropped into a sharp spiral. He swore viciously and turned to look at his wing and the missing tips to his feathers. His brow lowered, and his mouth set. Red lightning crackled, and the feathers re-formed.
She stared. Sunlight “interfered”? That looked an awful lot like destroyed to her.
Still swearing in at least three languages Thorn couldn’t begin to recognize, Yaroslav sailed lower, going deep under the shadow line. He glanced at her, and his thoughts moved against the back of her mind. Sunlight will not harm me physically, it merely drains my powers.
Thorn bit down on her bottom lip. Oh, is that all? She eyed the sunlight slipping past the surrounding peaks and creeping down the passing cliff walls at a dauntingly fast speed. Wherever they were going, they had better get there soon. They were running out of darkness.
Well do I know it. Yaroslav scowled at the passing cliffs. It has been too long since I have been here. I cannot find…Ah! His wings pumped, and he rose. There.
Thorn turned to look at where he was heading. Dead ahead was an ornate, green, copper-roofed, four-story mansion set into an arching cave hollowed into the mountain’s face. The house’s lowest level was of rusticated white stone with red brick above it, and the upper levels were timber and white plaster. Blown snow covered the fanciful roof and sharply pointed dormers. There?
As she watched, sunlight bathed the copper arabesques decorating the spine of the snow-covered and steeply peaked roof. The slender copper-domed minaret turrets commanding the house’s four corners brightened. The circular stained-glass windows of the broad square facing tower twinkled. The snow caught on the gargoyles below the clock’s face sparkled.
Hold tight! The vampire pumped his wings hard and then stretched straight out into a soaring glide barely under the burning surface of dawn. Black feathers began to scatter behind them, tumbling away and disintegrating on the wind.
Thorn tightened her hands around Yaroslav. He was flying far too close to the light.
They sailed over the white wall bordering the cliff’s edge, and tumbled onto the snow-covered lawn. Thorn rolled right out of the vampire’s arms, landing on her belly. She groaned and sat up, shoving snow from her cheeks. “Yaroslav?”
Two body lengths away, Yaroslav was a smoking feathered mess lying on his belly with his wings flopped awkwardly. Abruptly his feathers blew away, scattering in a rustling rush, leaving his human form gasping in the snow. Gold mist curled around him.
Dawn’s light spilled over the cliff’s edge wall and inched toward the vampire lying in the snow.
“Shit!” Thorn rose and tottered over to him on shaky knees. Sunlight might not actually burn his skin, but it did bad things to his magic. Tripping on the overlong hem of his fur-lined coat, she jerked at the buttons and shrugged out of the coat as fast as she could.
Sunlight brushed against his feet. The gold mist curling around his feet turned to black smoke and then to ash. He groaned and folded into a fetal position.
Thorn tossed the coat over the curled vampire, covering him from head to foot, and then collapsed in the snow at his side. She released a long sigh that became a tired chuckle. “Well, we made it.”
“I am pleased fo
r you.”
Thorn jerked and turned to look over her shoulder toward the house.
A slender young man glided toward them across the top of the snow in a ground-sweeping scarlet robe. Within the shadow of his hood, lined with black fur, red highlights gleamed in dark curls worn loose and tumbling at his brow and across his shoulders. His rounded cheekbones and pointed chin set off perfectly the full Cupid’s bow of his mouth, defining the delicately youthful face of a Renaissance angel. His hands were folded together within the voluminous sleeves. Behind him strode two large men in hooded black robes bearing unsheathed swords.
Thorn rose slowly to one knee. The men with the swords didn’t bother her in the least, but the one in the red robe made her heart pound in her throat. She didn’t know how she knew, but every drop of blood in her veins was convinced that this slender young man was the most deadly being she’d ever met. She couldn’t make herself look him in the eyes. Focused on his left shoulder, she suddenly realized that his robe looked an awful lot like the snake-man’s. Was this another…? She risked a glance upward. “Senator?”
“I am indeed.” Eyes as blue as a summer sky framed by sooty lashes peered at her from under the fine arch of black brows. “And who might you be?”
Thorn tried not to flinch. It took everything in her to resist the urge to change into fur and bolt. “I’m Thorn Ferrell. This is Yaroslav.”
“Yaroslav?” The youthful senator frowned. “Count Feodor Yaroslav Iziaslavich?”
Thorn frowned. That sounded really familiar. “I think so.”
“Let me see….” The senator dropped to one knee in the snow and reached for Yaroslav’s fur-lined coat.
Terror slammed through Thorn in an uncontrollable white-hot rush. “No…!” She threw her body over Yaroslav’s curled form to straddle him on her hands and knees. The change into half wolf ripped through her so fast it made her skin burn and her head throb. Shaking in fear and pain, she laid her tall ears flat and bared her long teeth at the terrifying young man. “Don’t touch him!” She knew damned well she didn’t stand a chance in hell of taking him, but that wouldn’t stop her from trying.
The youthful senator sat back on his heels, his eyes wide. “A werewolf…?”
The two men with swords snarled, baring long teeth, and leaped forward, landing only inches behind the senator.
The senator threw up his hand faster than the eye could follow. “No.”
The armed men stopped cold.
Thorn froze with them, her heart nearly stopping in her chest. Her snarl died.
Yaroslav moved under her. “Thorn….” He pushed feebly at the coat’s hood covering his face. “This is…” he groaned, “my prince.”
Thorn’s ears lifted. This was the famous vampire prince they’d been coming to see? She sat up on Yaroslav’s back.
The vampire prince tilted his head to peer under the edge of the coat’s hood and smiled. “Welcome, Count. I have been longing to speak with you.”
“And I you, my prince.” From under the coat, Yaroslav pushed at Thorn. “Off. You are…heavy.”
Thorn slid off Yaroslav’s back and crouched at his side. Embarrassment flooded her cheeks with heat. She’d almost attacked Yaroslav’s prince. And yet she could not stop her heart from pounding or her hands from shaking. She still couldn’t look at him directly. “I’m sorry for my, uh…temper, sir.”
“Perfectly understandable, Thorn.” The vampire prince rose slowly to his feet and eased two steps back. “However, your master needs care. Will you allow us to carry him into the house?”
Thorn lowered her head, and her ears tipped back. “What about the sunlight?”
The vampire prince waved a hand. “Sunlight merely weakens us. It does not actually harm us.”
Yaroslav groaned and pushed to his knees. “It affects my magic, not my body.”
Both armed men sheathed their swords and took two steps forward.
Thorn backed away from Yaroslav and them.
The prince rose to his feet. “We will take good care of your master.” He tilted his head and smiled, showing a dimple in his cheek. “By the way, I am Rafael.”
She shot a narrowed glance toward the terrifying prince. “He’s not my master. No one is.”
The two robed men looped their arms under Yaroslav’s and lifted him onto his feet while keeping his long coat pulled up over his head.
The prince’s brows lifted. “Indeed?” He set his hands behind him and looked over at Yaroslav. “Is this so?”
“Not so.” Yaroslav groaned and set his arms about the shoulders of the two men helping him. “She is…blood-thrall.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Thrice over.”
Rafael’s brows lifted. “Oh?” His chin dropped, and his bottom lip protruded just a little. “Pity.” He turned and led the way toward the house.
The two men helped Yaroslav stagger after him.
Thorn trotted after them. “I’m a…what?”
Yaroslav waved his hand. “I will explain all later, Thorn.”
Thorn stopped in her tracks and scowled. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what the hell a blood-thrall was anyway. She looked over her shoulder at the sunbathed cliffs. It might be better if she left before she got any deeper involved in all this. Unfortunately she wasn’t sure she could scale such steep cliffs.
She looked back toward the house. Yaroslav and the prince were gone, but the trail through the snow led directly to the steps of a huge arching portico shading a pair of ornately glassed doors.
Thorn sighed. She should at least find out if there was a trail out of the valley and get something to eat before she took off. She wiped her rough palms down the front of her coat and focused on the wolf so close to the surface. Her power rose in a tide and whispered under her skin. She willed her beast to go back under.
Her heart thumped, and the rising power bled away. The wolf didn’t want to.
Thorn blinked. What the hell…? She set her jaw and concentrated. She needed her fur and fangs to go back under. She needed her human form. She refused to be seen as more of a beast than the vampires.
The blood rushed in her ears, and a chill sweat broke out all over her. The wolf didn’t want to go. She refused to look like prey in front of all those predators.
Thorn gasped and staggered a step. She couldn’t change. Her wolf soul was actually fighting her.
She tried again.
Her belly churned and cramped in refusal.
Thorn dropped to one knee in the snow and gasped for breath to keep from vomiting. She couldn’t make herself change. She groaned and rose to her feet. She was going to have to deal with the vampires in fur and fangs. “Stupid wolf instincts.”
She took two long strides toward the house and listed to the left. Her balance was off. She stopped and rolled her eyes. It was her tail. Her tail had emerged while she was still fully dressed and it was jammed down her left pant leg. She dug under her coat to unbutton the seat of her pants. She had no clue why her tail mattered to her balance. She walked fine without one as a human, but when she had one she couldn’t walk properly if it wasn’t free. A judicious tug let it out. She shoved her clawed hands into her coat pockets and continued on toward the house.
This was not going to be one of her better days.
17
Thorn stepped up under the arch of the mansion’s portico and pulled the tie from her braid. The flight, the crash, and then her sudden and violent change into her half-wolf form had made a complete mess of her hip-length hair. She fingered her braid apart until her wolf-silver mane spilled loose down her back. She slid the pack from her back and crouched to dig out her brush. There wasn’t a whole lot she could do about her appearance, but she had to at least try.
One of the windowed double doors clicked and opened.
Crouched down with one buckle to her pack unfastened, Thorn glanced up, startled.
A tall, slender young man with curly brown hair, in a neat black formal suit, blinked down at her. “Miss Thor
n?”
He didn’t have that shimmer of “otherness” the vampires gave off, or the heavy disquiet Max had. Good lord, was this a normal person? Thorn dropped her ears as low as she could get them and gave him a smile with closed lips to hide her overlong teeth. She eased up on her feet. “Yes?”
“Ah, very good.” He smiled brightly. “I’m Thomas.” He stepped back from the door and bowed slightly. “This way, please.” His English pronunciation was straight out of London.
Thorn nodded and eased past him into a highly polished golden oak vestibule lit with a graceful brass gaslight chandelier with frosted glass tulip bulbs. The beautifully inlaid pendulum clock on the left wall abruptly chimed the three-quarter hour.
She frowned. The clock face read only a handful of minutes after the hour, but it had chimed as though it was a quarter of the next hour. She shook her head. Someone needed to check that clock.
The young man closed the door behind her and continued to smile, his eyes wide and a trifle unfocused. “This way, please, miss.” He stepped past her.
Clutching her canvas bag by one strap, Thorn followed the young man into a broad and brightly lit marble-floored entrance hall and couldn’t help but stare. Polished tables set against the walls held exquisite Greek and Roman bronzes and whimsical china knick-knacks. Corners were occupied by tall brightly painted Chinese vases filled with hothouse flowers. The walls sported framed woodblock prints and elegant portraits.
The young man led her to the right toward a sunken indoor garden under a glass-paned cupola skylight, featuring potted tropical trees and flowers around a cherub fountain. An older white-haired gentleman in an extremely formal black-tailed suit came out of the sunken garden to share quiet words with the young man.
Thorn sucked on her bottom lip and glanced about. On the left, a monstrous spiral staircase with an ornately carved, black oak balustrade led upward. Just beyond the staircase stretching to the left was a broad tapestry-hung, window-lined hallway. Directly ahead at some distance away, morning light spilled through monstrous windows across a tapestry-covered grand piano.