Sex, Lies, and Vampires do-3

by Кейти Макалистер

  "You're not the cause of any of this," I said, running back to give her a quick hug. "You're the most innocent of all of us—you and Damian. You're just caught up in a war between siblings."

  I looked at Melissande, part of me wanting to blame her for Adrian's capture, but a more benevolent side of me pointing out that she had had her comeuppance, and had paid the price for her misguided loyalty. I summoned as much of a smile as I could manage (which admittedly wasn't much). "I won't let the bad guys win."

  "Thank you," she said simply.

  "I'll stay with her here," Belinda said, getting to her feet as I headed back to the stairs. "In case someone needs to know what's going on." She bit her lip for a moment, her eyes shadowed. "You're sure that Christian—"

  "Absolutely. That's one tough vamp. I know, I've tried to take him down a couple of times. Damian will be as safe with him as he would be with Adrian."

  "Good luck," she said, her chin lifting as she tried to put a brave front on her worries. "May God go with you."

  "Thanks. I'm going to need all the help I can get."

  It wasn't until I hit the first floor that something struck me: My mummies were gone.

  "Well, hell!" I swore, looking around the hall in case someone had dumped them in a corner. "Sorry, guys, wherever you are. I'll deal with you once Adrian and I have taken care of the baddies."

  It's amazing what a ring of power will do for you when it comes to escaping a forming police cordon. I had figured that there was no way I'd be able to slip out of Christian's house without being stopped and grilled by the cops, but either London's police force had been warned about coming between a Beloved and her vamp in need, or the ring had some sort of invisibility mojo going on that allowed me to walk out in plain sight of the police who had gathered beyond the rim of Nazimobiles. Blue lights flashed, sirens wailed, and occasional staccato bursts on bullhorns demanded that the supremacists surrender.

  I walked down the sidewalk past two sharpshooters hiding behind a rhododendron bush. The men's eyes shifted to look at me, but neither gave me more than a glance as I walked by.

  "Cool!" I whispered to myself, twisting the ring like it was some sort of talisman. The other police, everyone from a guy in a yellow jacket who was trying to convince the neighbors to go back into their houses to the incident officer in charge of the bullhorn, all clearly saw me, but I didn't seem to register on their psyches.

  Which was perfectly fine with me.

  I took the ring off after I figured out that its protective powers went so far as to make me insignificant to the taxi drivers gathered around a train station a half-mile down the road. By the time I found a cab and was whisked through the oddly empty streets toward the British Museum, enough time had passed for all sorts of horrible, torturous, life-ending, apocalyptic things to have happened to Adrian.

  And each and every one of them paraded through my mind in glorious Technicolor and Dolby digital surround sound as we drove.

  I expected there to be more guards than normal at the museum, given the events of a few hours past, but I hadn't expected to find a veritable army camped around the museum.

  "Sorry, love, but this is as close as I can get you," the taxi driver said as he pulled up a block away from the museum. He nodded toward the two big black police vehicles that blocked the road. "Must be a terrorist threat or something."

  "Something like that," I agreed, handing him a couple of pound coins I had bummed off Belinda. I slipped on the ring as soon as the taxi made a U-turn, smiling and nodding pleasantly at the various police stationed at checkpoints that led to the museum.

  I approached the museum bold as could be, secure in the power of the ring. Police and the British Special Forces guys in ultratechy skin-tight black body armor and armed with enough firepower to blow a small country off the face of the planet filled the forecourt of the museum. Small mobile dispatch centers, command posts, and a couple of official police chemical toilets (even SWAT team members have to go sometime) stood like black monoliths amidst a sea of police on the paving stones that led to the museum front doors.

  I weaved my way through the maze of vehicles and people, pausing to listen to a radioed message from a couple of guys who I gathered were crawling their way up the glass roof of the Great Court, reporting no signs of movement via their thermal night vision goggles, but picking up an odd keening sound from the ultrasensitive microphone taped to the glass dome.

  The man who was listening to the report on the radio glanced toward me. I smiled at him and walked toward the front doors. When I looked back, he was frowning at the spot in which I had been standing, as if he was puzzled by something.

  "I could definitely get used to this," I said aloud as I walked up the stone steps to the doors. With my fingers crossed that they would be unlocked, I strolled past a small terrier-sized camera-mounted security robot that was crawling toward the door. Obligingly, I held the door open for it to enter, following without a backward glance.

  The second I entered the museum I was swamped by anger, anger so intense that it almost sent me running. Adrian's anger.

  "Well, at least you're alive," I said, trying to make my feet move when Adrian was pouring wave after wave of resistance into my head. I knew he was trying to protect me, but it didn't make it any easier to ignore the compulsion that pummeled me with every struggling step forward.

  By the time I made it to the center of the Great Court I was covered in sweat, my heart pounding so loudly I couldn't hear anything else, my breath as labored as if I'd run a hundred times the distance. I stopped, trying to calm my heart, doing my best to shut out the almost palpable waves of anger swamping me, but it was no good. I weighed my options, and decided that with my brand-spanking-new immortality—and a stylish ring of power—there wasn't much that Saer or Sebastian could do to me personally, so it wouldn't hurt to make my presence known.

  "I get the picture, Adrian," I bellowed, needlessly cupping my hands to amplify the volume since my voice echoed eerily off the glass ceiling, rebounding off the walls, and flitting along the stairwells. "I appreciate it, but it's not necessary. The cavalry is here!"

  A red pinpoint laser light skittered along my face for a moment. I looked up and saw a man's shape silhouetted against the glass roof, his laser-gun sight pausing on me for a few seconds, then moving on in a steady sweep along the floor.

  Adrian's obstructionary measures ceased. I smiled ruefully to myself, knowing he was going to be one very tetchy vampire when I found him, but also well aware there was no way we were going to come out of this with our skins intact unless he allowed me to help.

  "You left me the ring," I muttered as I hurried across the rest of the Great Court, heading for the stairs that led to the basement offices. "You told your sister I was the only one who could use it, and then you have a hissy fit when I come to do that very thing. Vampires! Surely the most unreasonable of all creatures. Whoa! What the—"

  Halfway up the stairs from the basement, a long, thin, sticklike object flexed, flopping over into a roll. Behind it a smaller, squat, spiderlike object crawled. A truly monumental scream was building inside me, about to burst out when a horribly dry, crackling noise whispered up the stairwell. I squinted at the brown objects for a second, leaping down the stairs toward them as a misshapen blob thumped its way around the landing.

  "What the hell did they do to you!" I yelled, gathering up the (animated) mummy arm and disattached hand before jumping the last few steps over the torso. "Ginger? My God, they tore you apart! Hold on, I'll get you, you don't have to try to move."

  I scooped up Ginger's torso, pausing on the way down the second half of the stairs to collect both his legs (which, though separated, were working together to make their way up the stairs) and a second hand. Ginger made happy little noises at being held so close, his dried lips making a horrible sort of puckering shape that I had a nasty suspicion was his version of a kiss.

  "Hold tight, I'll get you put back together," I told him as I p
ushed open the metal door to the basement offices. "What happened to the other… oh, no!"

  The scene in the basement hallway was like something out of a deranged mummy movie. A very low-budget deranged mummy movie. I don't know if the bits and pieces that made up the other two mummies had been scattered in the hallway, but each individual piece—an arm here, a pelvis there—was crawling, kerthumping, and rolling with single-minded determination toward the door… and my voice.

  "Stop!" I yelled, unable to watch as the disembodied pieces moved toward me. A familiar head rolled onto its side, its jaws open wide in a happy little coo of surprise. I set the bits of Ginger down on a table, propping his torso up so he could look around. "None of you move! That's a direct order. Just as soon as I take care of a little business, I'll be back to collect you and put you back together, assuming there's a barrel-sized jug of superglue around here."

  Ginger moaned something that sounded like a question.

  "Oh, don't worry," I told him, plucking a spasming finger from my sweater and setting it next to his femur. "The vamp who did this to you all is going to pay. Now just stay put and wait here for me."

  I started to walk down the hallway toward the room that held Asmodeuss statue, then paused to look back. "You might scoot yourselves over next to the wall, just in case those police come in. I wouldn't want anyone to get stepped on, OK?"

  Three warbling eons-old voices keened their assent.

  "Right," I said, marching down the hall, Asmodeus's ring heavy on my thumb: "Time to kick some serious tail."

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Sebastian was waiting for me in front of the door to the conservation room containing the ivory griffin-headed figure that held Asmodeus in bondage.

  "I knew you would come. Saer doubted it, but I knew you would have to come. I am pleased. Adrian's death will be that much sweeter, knowing you will witness it."

  I smiled at him. "You know what your problem is?"

  The gloating light in his eyes faded a little, a faint frown forming as I continued to smile at him. "My problem, Charmer, is about to be destroyed."

  "Wrong," I said softly, making a fist with my ring-bedecked thumb on the outside. Before he could blink, I punched him in the jaw with everything I had. Evidently the ring added a little extra oomph, because Sebastian flew backward two feet and slammed into the door to the storeroom, his head connecting soundly with the solid metal door. For a second his eyes stared at me with utter and complete surprise, then they closed as his body slid down the door with a whump. "Your problem is that you underestimate just how determined a pissed-off Beloved can be."

  I stepped over Sebastian's prone body, pushing open the door. "One down, two to go."

  This room was about three times as large as the one in the sub-basement that had held Damian, and filled with tall metal shelving units holding a number of packing cases and archival picture boxes. I knew I had the correct room—I could feel Adrian's presence like a warm, comforting blanket.

  An incredibly angry warm, comforting blanket.

  I don't suppose you'd like to show a morsel of gratitude that I love you so much that I'm willing to die with you rather than spend my life alone ?

  There was no answer, although waves of frustration rolled over me. For some reason, he had refused to merge his mind with mine, no doubt part of his form of protection. I walked past several of the shelves, coming into a section of the room that had been cleared of everything but a table covered in a black and purple cloth, a big, ugly, beigeish statue, and two men, one of whom resembled a pincushion.

  Saer spun around as I cleared the last of the shelves, surprise evident for a moment in his eyes before a nasty smile curled his lips. He made an elaborate bow, one hand holding a wickedly sharp, long sword.

  I ignored him to look at Adrian. He was skewered to the wall by a number of different sizes and types of swords, blood flowing freely down his body to pool around his feet. His eyes were the color of a blue-tinged full moon, but I judged that all in all, he wasn't in too much danger. The fact that Saer hadn't pulled the swords out acted as a deterrent to the bleeding, and although I knew the blood loss was going to leave Adrian weakened and ravenous, he didn't seem wounded to the point of death. "Hey, sweet cheeks. How are you doing? I mean, other than having all those swords in you?"

  Adrian glared at me. "Why did you ignore my command to stay away?"

  I put my hands on my hips. Two could play at righteous indignation. "Well, for one thing, we had a plan, and that plan did not include you running off to be a sacrifice. For another, I'm not the command-obeying sort of girl, not when the love of my life is intent on throwing away everything we have just because he's so noble he couldn't fart without first asking everyone's permission."

  His eyes grew round with outrage, his irises darkening. "I am not that noble! If I farted—which I do not, because I do not ingest food—I would do so at will, without consideration of anyone's feelings. You are the one who is noble. You refuse to admit defeat, and continue trying to save me when you know that nothing can be done."

  I looked pointedly at the five swords piercing his torso. "And which one of us has all the swords sticking in his body?"

  His scowl was a thing of beauty to behold. "Hasi, I insist that you leave this room at once."

  "No."

  "You will do as I say!"

  "Nope. Not this time."

  "Nell, I will not explain it to you again! There is nothing you can do. Leave now!"

  I leaned forward and, carefully avoiding the swords, kissed the tip of his nose. "Make me."

  "What?" I thought his eyes were going to bug out.

  "I said make me. You can't, huh? That's why I'm here, snuggypants. I'm going to help you cream Saer, and then we'll take care of that curse that I see peeking through the blood."

  "I am so glad to know I have not been forgotten in this charming domestic scene," Saer said, a dry edge to his voice. He stood behind me, his arms crossed over his chest, the sword held in one hand.

  "Oh, sorry, forgot about you for a moment. Torture, Saer? Was that really necessary?" I glanced over my shoulder to glare at him.

  "Not in the least." His smile grew as he gestured with the sword toward Adrian. "But it was very enjoyable."

  Fury rose within me—my own fury, not Adrian's. I spun around to face Saer, furious that he could joke about torturing a brother who had spent his entire life bound to pain and anguish. "You know, I think I've had just about enough of you. Say good night, Saer. It's time for you to get what's coming to you."

  "And just who do you believe is going to see to my punishment?" He strolled around me, touching me gently with the tip of his sword. I stood still, twisting the ring on my thumb, wondering if it would protect me if he tried to run me through with the sword. "You? A third-rate Charmer who can't even call a charm without weakening herself to the point of insensibility?"

  Adrian growled. I have never heard another human being growl the way he did. It was animalistic, deep and intense, a warning so effective it raised the hairs on the back of my neck. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him bracing himself, his hands fisted, his eyes pale with anger.

  "You cannot even draw a ward that will last any amount of time," Saer added with a smug look.

  "I may not be any great shakes at warding or charming on my own, but you know what? As long as I've got the ring, I am damn near invincible." Saer, making his circuit around me, touched my neck with his sword. I whirled around, batting it out of the way as I held up my hand to show him what I bore. "You have run out of time, little man. Vigor hausi!"

  As the words of the draining curse left my lips, I gathered up every ounce of anger, every morsel of fury, every part of my vengeance, and slammed it toward Saer, pulling on Adrian's darkness to give the curse form.

  A blinding flash erupted between us as the curse whipped against Saer, knocking the sword from his hand, sending him backward a couple of steps, but before I had a chance to gloat, he leaped f
orward, backhanding me into the wall six feet behind me.

  Wrath like nothing I had ever known filled the room as Adrian roared. I blinked, shaking my head to clear my vision, knowing that something had gone wrong. The curse I'd used was meant to drain Saer of all power. He shouldn't have been able to not only withstand it, let alone have enough strength to knock me across the room.

  "So, brother, you are at last driven to action," Saer taunted, snatching up his sword and quickly sliding the tip of the cold metal against my neck. Pain stung my neck as the sharp blade cut into my skin. My vision returned enough to allow me to see Adrian standing beyond him, the swords ripped from his body, a bloody curved Saracen's blade in his hand. "I wondered if even your Beloved would be able to rouse a sense of honor in you. It has been lacking for so long—"

  Adrian's blade flashed. Saer's head parted company with his body. The body stood for three seconds, then collapsed onto my legs.

  I looked down at the headless ex-vampire, and wondered if now was a good time to scream.

  Hasi, my Beloved one, how badly are you injured?

  I looked at the face that examined me so anxiously, raising up a shaking hand to touch his blood-soaked shirt. "You cut Saer's head off?"

  "Yes. He was going to kill you. Lift your chin and let me look at your wound."

  "That's it? You just cut his head off?" I stared at Adrian for a second, then peered down to where Saer's body still lay across my shins. His head had rolled to a corner, coming to rest in the pool of Adrian's spilled blood.

  "Yes, that's it. Hasi, if you would just lift your chin, I will be able to see to your injury."

  I pulled my gaze back to his dear, adorable face. His eyes were clear blue, concern and love warming them. "That's… it? You cut his head off, and wham, bam, no more Saer? No more torment? No more threat of him trying to use Damian? It's over?"