by K. T. Tomb
“Never wasted, and give it a minute,” he said, grinning. “The man in charge will be back, and then you can work your magic.”
“I’m glad you’re confident in that. I have my doubts.”
“Trust me, Nora,” Andrik countered. “Anyone who has been around you for a few seconds and received an eyeful of that coppery hair won’t stay away long.”
She rolled her eyes, still not convinced, but willing to do whatever it took to help them out of this mess. Hell, she’d done far worse for just a little money. To her surprise, only a few minutes had passed before the very man who had grabbed her up by her rat tail stepped through the doorway, eyes fixed on her. Immediately, she saw within them a deep desire for her. But hadn’t she seen the same look in hundreds of men before? She had, of course. But wasn’t it the same look all women in her profession—her previous profession—garnered from men? Didn’t all men act like idiots? Especially when it came to sex?
“I am Vlad,” he said. He merely glanced sideways at Andrik, snarling his distaste for him and then turned his entire focus back on her. The man was short but roped with wiry muscles. He had a long face that seemed oddly familiar to her. Also, he spoke with an accent that she could not place. He bowed slightly. “I have done a great disservice to such an exquisite creature. I have come to ask your forgiveness, Miss…”
“Nora,” she responded, filling in her name for him. And chewed on the name Vlad. Where had she heard it before?
“Ah, Nora, it has music to it, yes?”
She saw his interest and lust, but she also saw something else... something she had often seen in the men who paid for her time and body. She saw the spark of something more. Something, she suspected, that went beyond lust. True, she had seen it and ignored it.
“I am not in a musical mood at the moment,” she countered, fixing a glare on him, deciding to test Andrik’s theory. If they were to escape from this place, she would need to be the one in charge. “This place has a foul odor and the accommodations leave a great deal to be desired.”
“I assure you,” he responded, still smiling, but with a hint of regret in his eyes, “I have come to remedy your current accommodations.”
“I am interested.”
“Then I would like to ask you to join me in my own chambers for a cocktail, if you will. Might I be permitted that small pleasure?”
“I suppose you can have anything you desire as long as you keep my hands and feet bound,” she retorted. “With full freedom, I might be inclined to slap your face.”
“You are a feisty one, aren’t you,” he chuckled.
“You have no idea,” she growled.
Instantly, she recognized the same look in his eyes that she’d seen in Edwin Burberry’s eyes, in Miko’s eyes, in the eyes of dozens of other men. It was the pleasure of an imagined conquest and a type of blindness that, until Andrik had pointed it out a few moments before, she had mostly ignored. Perhaps she could have some control over him, but only if she didn’t give in too easily. Her power was in being untouchable.
“Permit me to loosen your bonds,” he replied.
“That might be a very dangerous thing to do,” she snarled.
He chuckled. “I think I can handle you.” he returned.
He stepped over to her feet, squatted down and took his time with her binds, seemingly, admiring her legs and ankles.
“I suppose you’re just going to take from me what you want and cast me aside then?”
“Actually, I have plans for you, my dear.” He made quick work of the knot, helped her to her feet, then untied her hands. “You see, you haven’t scratched my eyes out yet. Perhaps you’re more bark than you are bite?”
“The night is still young,” she said.
“I hope, for our benefit, that it never ends,” he cooed. “Come, let’s get to know each other better.”
She felt a little guilty leaving Andrik behind. Luckily, she had caught his eye on the way out and he had given her a knowing nod, a nod that said it all: be careful... and get me the hell out of here.
She would try; indeed, their plan was working exactly the way Andrik had said it would—unless, of course, she lost her nerve or gave in too easily. She had used her body to stay alive before, and she would use it again. Plus, she knew the ways of men, did she not? Or so she had been told. Truth was, she knew what made them tick, what turned them on, and what made them obey like a well-trained dog. She’d been doing it her whole adult life, after all. Better, in fact, then she had realized.
Now, as she was being led down the long passageway, what Andrik had said began to make sense. The practice mission she’d been sent to carry out had been a mental exercise to build her confidence more than for exacting any sort of justice on Edwin Burberry. Alfred had taken advantage of the situation to straighten out a crooked man, but that hadn’t been his ultimate goal.
They came to the end of the stone passageway and a heavy wooden door. Vlad pushed down the handle and waved her in. She swept past him, tempted to use every bit of her training and disarm the man through physical prowess, rather than sexual tension. She refrained, suspecting he was ready for just such a move.
Once inside, she found herself in a surprisingly large, ornate chamber that would make even Her Majesty envious. The old world décor would be beyond priceless, or so Nora suspected. Indeed, every single piece, including the golden goblets, set between golden candelabra on the ornately carved table maintained its original, perfect condition. An obsidian statue of a dragon curled around a lamppost sat just inside the doorway, mouth outstretched, fangs bared.
“Extraordinary,” she gasped. It was partly true and partly a concession to make him believe that he was winning thus far.
“All of these items are from the Bulgarian Empire. Many of them are spoils taken by Simeon the First as he rolled up the Byzantines. They are more than 800 years old. Please, sit.” He drew out one of the chairs in front of the table with the goblets and candelabra on it. As he eased her chair into position under the table, he pushed his nose into her hair and inhaled. His fingers traced along her lower jaw and drew a line down her delicate neck.
“You won’t live to 800 if you keep doing that,” she snapped.
“Pardon me,” he replied, withdrawing from her. “I am quite taken by your brilliant tresses.”
“You are only interested in my hair?” she asked. “Should I be offended?”
He threw back his head, exposing a long, smooth, pale neck. She noted that, like the other vampires in her experiences, he didn’t invoke hunger within her. It was like she just... knew that he was not a source of food; at least, not the kind of blood that would nourish. She knew by now that it was only the mortals who could quench her thirst. If anything, he inspired... alarm within her. A sense of trepidation. She could feel his great strength... and his great age. There was a heaviness to him, a weight of life and death that seemed to be infused in his words and mannerisms. That said, she also suspected the old vampire had come across something that he couldn’t quite wrap his aged mind around. Her.
“Oh, I am interested in much more than your hair, my dear,” he said. “Much, much more.”
Chapter Thirty-one
She teased Vlad throughout their “meal,” itself little more than two goblets of fresh blood. Two very full goblets of what was clearly human blood. Someone had died tonight to feed them. She didn’t know who... and she didn’t want to know, either.
She allowed him to touch and caress her, even to plant a string of kisses that traveled from her ear to the very top of her full breasts. But when he pushed to move to another level, she gave him a strong shove, which sent him stumbling over a stool, which promptly splintered. He tossed aside one of the broken legs. “This had belonged to one of the Byzantine popes. I have it on good word that it was more than a thousand years old. It couldn’t survive one night with you.”
“Perhaps it can be repaired.”
“Perhaps,” he said, standing so smoothly from a sit
ting position that she was sure he had done so through supernatural means. “Then again, I always thought it was kind of ugly.”
His lustful eyes flowed down her body from the top of her head and came to rest where her thighs came together under her dress. “Before you leave this room, I will have tasted every inch of your pale skin and plucked nectar from your delicate flower. Judging by the flaming that I see streaming from above, I can only imagine the blaze down below.”
“And if I say no?”
He chuckled at that, sounding more and more unhinged as he did so. “There will be no denying me, my princess. I have been denied little for 500 years, and I won’t be denied tonight, by you of all people.”
“Of all people.”
“A filthy whore.”
He lunged at her with great force, nearly catching her in his eager hands, but she had dealt with such madness before. She sidestepped him and used his momentum to send him stumbling past, just as Andrik had taught her to do. Before he had recovered himself, she scooped up one of the splintered shards of the destroyed stool and hid it in the folds of her dress.
He turned, straightening his dinner jacket. “You’re becoming a little bit less delicate by the moment,” he hissed. “It will do you no good to resist.”
“But I thought that you were intrigued by the conquest?” she said, facing him. “Where’s the reward if I gave in too quickly?”
“I’ll have my reward,” he replied hoarsely, eyeing her suspiciously. “You’ve been well trained.”
“If you mean that I’ve had to fight off the advances of lecherous men,” she retorted. “Then, yes, I have had a great deal of experience; know this, I am not easily taken.”
The mention of other men, just like she knew it would, drove a jealous rage up into his eyes. She knew exactly what he was about to do and she was prepared for him. She backed around the table as he rushed toward her, and simultaneously kicked it in his way to keep him at bay. Though she had the shard and needed to draw him in close to use it, she needed to bait him still further before she made use of it.
“It’s pointless to resist,” he said.
“I’ll resist up until the last beat of my heart,” she countered fiercely.
In a flash of rage, he tossed the table aside and lunged at her. This time, she didn’t run. His surprise was evident. She held him for a moment longer, her face inches from his, and watched as the horror of what had happened to him began to register. Indeed, he had never seen it coming, but surely had felt it.
“I’ll not be conquered,” she hissed, releasing him.
Within seconds of hitting the floor, his body convulsed and lay still. The stake protruded from his chest like a harpoon in the great white whale. Except this was no whale. It was, she was certain, the most powerful of old world vampires.
Remembering Andrik, she rushed out of the chamber and down the passageway, forgetting that she could have transformed into a bat and covered the distance much faster. To her great surprise, she saw her partner running toward her.
“You’re free!” she said. “But how did you escape?”
“Miko,” he replied. “He and a bunch of new order MIs are here. They’re battling it out in the main corridor and the big room where the munitions are being stored.”
“Then we must help!”
Her partner shook his head. “I have orders to take you out of here and back to Bucharest.”
“What? Never! I am trained to fight, and fight I will!”
“No.” He said with force behind his words. “You are not yet powerful enough. You will be killed, or mortally wounded, and we can’t have that.”
“Well, I managed to kill Vlad and escape, didn’t I?”
“Did you?”
“With my very hands. I drove a stake through his heart. Come, we are wasting time!”
He resisted. “Did you see him turn to dust?” he asked.
“Dust? What? No. I came to help you,” she replied. Her irritation and impatience were driving her to madness. Never had she backed down from a fight, and she wouldn’t begin now.
“This Vlad is no ordinary vampire,” Andrik replied. “He is Vlad the Impaler.”
Although she had heard the name, it still meant little to her. “Well, now he is Vlad the Impaled,” she responded. That said, she wrinkled her brow and searched Andrik’s face for some sort of meaning behind the information he had just shared with her. Evidently, Andrik saw the confusion on her face and she did not have to wait long for an explanation.
“Nora, Vlad the Impaler was the nickname of the Count of Dracula.”
“The Count of Dracula? Count Dracula?” she asked. It suddenly dawned on her that the particularly famous warlord he was talking about had been active in the late 15th century. It was impossible. “But isn’t he dead by now?”
“Not likely,” Andrik answered. “Many of the old world MIs are hundreds of years old, if not thousands. That’s sort of what the ‘I’ part of mortals/immortals stands for. There are rumors that an Irish author is writing his tale... a book that will finally expose him for the monster he truly is.”
“But... but the monster is dead now,” she responded. “I drove a stake through his heart. Do you think I would be here if I hadn’t?”
“Oh, I have no doubt that you did, Nora. Believe me, he is more powerful than you and I combined. Come, we need to get you out of here.”
“But I killed him! Which is far more than you have done so far, Andrik!” she snapped.
“We really don’t have time for this right now.”
“No, we don’t, so stop arguing. I’m staying to help.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I can handle myself quite well. I have already proven it—”
“That was different,” he said, taking her shoulders in his hands and fixing his fluorescing eyes on hers. “This is brutal combat. Not seduction. Go back to Bucharest. Report everything to Alfred and then wait for me there.”
“But I…”
“Please, Nora, you’re too valuable to be fodder.” He pleaded with her with his eyes as much as his words. “I’ll escort you out of the cave and send you on your way. Don’t hesitate, don’t look back, and don’t waste any more time arguing. You are our best hope. One of us needs to escape and report back to Alfred. Please,” he said, taking her hands, and she saw it for the first time... but was it true. Was it love? His eyes softened, and he squeezed her hands. “Please, Nora. It must be you.”
She opened her mouth to speak and strangulated cries reached them from down the corridor. She wasn’t running from a fight. She would never run. But Andrik had made it clear: she was needed in another capacity. She accepted the assignment.
She squeezed his hands back and did something that surprised even her. She leaned forward and gave him a long and passionate kiss, which might have buckled his knees.
“Go get ’em,” she said.
He gave her a lopsided grin. “I intend to, with every ounce of strength I have.”
Nora’s response was to transform into a bat, as did Andrik. Together, they navigated out of the passageway and into the main corridor. Battles were raging there, but as she pressed forward, she knew that Andrik had veered away to transform again and fight. She alighted on a nearby tree stump, transformed into an owl, and leaped back into the air.
She flapped her wings hard and turned toward Bucharest.
Chapter Thirty-two
Being ordered back to London hadn’t set well with her, especially considering she’d received no word about Andrik and Miko—but she had no other option than to comply with Alfred’s command.
As she was ushered into the drawing room at White Hall, where Alfred and the Duke were seated across from each other in the two brocade-clad armchairs, she had a fierce scowl on her face. She was about to let loose on the two of them for making her abandon Miko and Andrik, but their proud smiles and warm greetings took all of the fire out of her belly.
“Nora,” the Duke cooed. “
I am the proudest man in England today, if not the whole world. Her Majesty is absolutely thrilled with what you have achieved in the Balkans and wished me to express her eternal gratitude to you.”
“Her Majesty?” Nora asked, blinking, as she allowed the Duke to step forward and wrap his arms around her in a tight squeeze. She hadn’t felt such affection since her grandmother. It was strange and wonderful at the same time. “But I…”
Alfred followed right behind the Duke as he took her into his arms. “You’ve done well.”
“Please, sit, my dear,” said the Duke. “We have several things that we need to discuss with you.”
His words stoked the fire in her belly. “Well, I hope those things include how you’ve gotten Andrik and Miko out of Wallachia!”
“I understand your concern for them, but you did the right thing in escaping and reporting back to us. You’ll understand more in a moment. In fact, the brief that Alfred is about to give you comes largely from Miko, so that ought to set your mind at ease for the time being.”
She took in some air. “Very well.”
Alfred nodded and began. “Miko put the report together after you’d left Galati to deliver your report to us in Bucharest. That said, the details are still a bit sketchy and are somehow connected to what Ivan and Olena were wrapped up in. In essence, the old world MIs have come together, forming a network, if you will, even adding a few new world MIs to their ranks.
“The objective driving their coming together is a plot to make use of the current unrest in the Balkan region to bring back the Bulgarian Empire of Simeon the First. You see…”
“Simeon the First?” she interrupted. “Vlad said something about Simeon the First. Much of the furnishings, utensils, artwork and such had been in Simeon’s possession. He was quite proud of his collection and couldn’t leave off talking about them.”
“No doubt,” Alfred rejoined. “The old world MIs are obsessed with Simeon, who drew together the Bulgarian empire, having wrested it from the Byzantines. At the height of his power, he expanded an area that reached from the Dnieper River in western Russia, across to the headwaters of the Dniester, down along what is approximately equal to the Hungarian border to the west and then along the Adriatic Sea to Thessalonica, Macedonia, and Thrace. From Thrace, he made an attempt to take Constantinople, but the Byzantines recovered enough to hold him off from that objective.”