by Lisa Olsen
“A phone call would’ve been a good start. Even a few minutes before the attack and Lee would’ve stood a chance.”
“Would you have believed me?”
I let out a long breath, not sure enough of the answer to reply. “And I’m supposed to believe you now? Believe that you came here out of the goodness of your heart to apologize when Bishop and Carter happen to be away? How’d you get past my security anyway?” I wondered, craning my head to try and see where they were, but there was no one in sight. “What’d you do to them?”
“Nothing, I merely encouraged them to go take a walk.”
“And that’s supposed to make me trust you more?”
“I wanted the chance to speak my piece, and I have. I give you my word.”
“And I politely reject it. Nothing you’ve told me tonight makes me want to believe a single thing that comes out of your mouth.”
Her mouth formed a perfect O of outrage. “But I’ve told you the God’s honest truth!”
“Fine. You want to prove it to me?”
“How am I to prove it beyond giving you my word?”
“You can sit there on the porch and don’t move a muscle until Bishop and Carter get here.”
Her lips pursed together into a pout as she considered my terms. “Can’t I wait inside?”
“Only if you’re willing to do it in torpor,” I smiled sweetly.
Carys chose one of the chairs on the deck, delicately brushing off the cushion before she perched on the very edge of it. “I will wait then,” she declared, looking proud of herself, as if she deserved a special recognition for the sacrifice. “May I have a drink? I’m simply parched.”
Hardly believing she’d stay put if she knew the ass kicking Bishop was likely to deliver when he found out she was behind it all, I decided to play nice to keep her there as long as possible. “Absolutely. Would you like a cup of tea? I could put the kettle on.”
“Something stronger, please. It’s been a trying night.”
“You’re telling me,” I muttered. “Sure, hold on a sec.” I headed for the library, swiping the first bottle my hand closed over, taking a healthy swig myself. I sent a quick text to Bishop as well, letting him know that Carys was still there, and behaving so far, but to hurry.
“Here you go,” I offered, handing the bottle over gingerly, in case it was a trick to try and pull me through the doorway. It didn’t seem to have crossed her mind as she brought the bottle to her lips, taking a deep drink.
I expected a word of thanks, or even another apology. But what I got was, “You wouldn’t happen to have any good scotch, would you?”
Lord, beer me strength.
*
Carys was still there when Carter and Bishop tore up the street, the car barely screeching to a stop before they barreled out, guns drawn. I’d have to explain a lot if one of my neighbors happened to look out the window at that particular moment. Leaving her on the back porch, I let them pat me and make sure I was fine, and then filled them in on what she’d said.
Bishop’s jaw hardened the more he heard. “Volkov? Of course. He always did know how to play dirty, and he’d have access to weapons, money, all the resources he could ever need.”
“He’ll be tough to bring down,” Carter agreed. “You know how I like to say that skill can trump age? He’s got both.”
“So we’re believing her story then? That Volkov’s out walking around and he’s the one who turned lethal, not her?”
Bishop nodded. “I do. Not because she’s sincere, but because she needs us to clean up her mess. She wouldn’t have named Volkov otherwise, and it’d be easy enough to check the dungeons to see if he’s still down there. I think we can trust her.”
“Well, I don’t,” Carter snorted. “This whole thing stinks like a trap to me.”
I had to agree with him. “Same here. I say we stake her and then go look for Volkov.”
“Where?” Bishop demanded. “Carter’s not wrong, Volkov’s got skills. He won’t be found unless he wants to be. She might be our best shot at flushing him out. I’d rather not be looking over my shoulder for all eternity. Carys might not want me dead, but he’s got motive enough to take me down.” He rubbed at his chest where the ACBT dart punctured him.
Carter scratched at his jaw, his eyes on Carys, who took another despondent swig from the bottle. “We could use her as bait. Think he’d come rescue her if we tortured her for a while?”
Carys’ eyes bulged at the threat. “I came to you. I didn’t have to. I wanted you to know,” she insisted. “I came in good faith to offer my help. Bishop, tell them. Tell them you know I’d never hurt you.”
Bishop avoided her gaze, and I recognized the fear of being compelled written all over his face. “I wish I could.”
Her face fell, more wounded by his reply than if I’d shot her. “Truly, I mean you no harm,” she insisted. “I can prove it.”
“I can’t wait to hear this,” I muttered.
“I will lead you to Volkov. Right now, if you like.”
“Follow you out of the protection of this house into a possible ambush? No thanks,” Carter muttered, but it was me she turned to. Me she captured with her watery blue eyes, so that I wondered if she’d managed to figure out how to compel other draugen.
“Anja, I do wish to make amends, whether you believe me or not.”
I stared back at her over the threshold. Maybe it was the gullible sap in me, but I believed her. “Okay, let’s go.”
“Anja…” Both Carter and Bishop grabbed hold of me, physically barring me from leaving the house, and I firmly pulled myself free.
“Okay, so maybe it’s a trap. Even if it is, it’s something we need to do. We’ll go expecting the worst and deal with it.”
“You stay here and we’ll go,” Bishop started to say, but I shook my head.
“No, this is my fight. Volkov decided to make this personal, and I owe it to Gunnar and Lee to see this to the end.” I turned to Carys. “Take us to Volkov.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Okay, so where are we going?” I asked once we got to the car. It was decided that Carter would drive, and I called shotgun. Bishop rode in the backseat with a wary eye (and a loaded gun) on Carys.
“Your mansion,” Carys replied, fluffing her hair as she settled into her seat.
“Of course we are,” I muttered. “Of all the places he could be holed up, he picked my own estate for his stronghold?”
“He said it’d be easier to lure you there,” Carys shrugged. “I’m meant to be leading Ulrik there as part of the trap now.”
Bishop’s frown grew more pronounced. “Then he’s expecting us?”
“He’s expecting me and you for certain, but now we have the element of surprise,” she replied with a bright smile. “He’ll never suspect that I’ve warned you of his intent.”
“Until we roll up in the same car together,” Bishop growled. “Change of plan, we take two cars.”
“I don’t like that idea,” I complained. “With you driving, she could do anything to you.”
“She won’t hurt me. Will you, Carys?” Bishop turned to her with a confidence I wished I could share.
“Of course not, cariad. I would never allow you to come to harm.”
“You do know that he got shot with ACBT in that attack on my house, right?” I pointed out. “That usually spells instant death for vamps,” I added when she stared at me blankly. “The only thing that saved him was his vest.”
“I will keep him safe,” she vowed, and Bishop shot me a look. We didn’t have a whole heck of a lot of choice.
“Right then,” Carter decided, abandoning Bishop’s SUV for his own nondescript car. “You take your stalker in one car, and Anja and I will follow. Other than that, the same plan applies.”
We played musical seats with Bishop and Carys in the front now, and I hovered by the driver’s side door. “Be safe,” Bishop said, catching hold of my hand.
I kept from kissing
him, not wanting to antagonize Carys when part of our plan depended so heavily on her continued cooperation. “You too,” I replied, telling him with my eyes how much I loved him. “If this doesn’t work…”
“It will,” he said with a determined tilt of the chin. “It has to.”
“You sure you’re up for this?” Carter asked as soon as I got to his car.
“It’s not like we have much of a choice. Are you okay with…?”
“I know what needs to be done,” he interrupted, following Bishop as he pulled away from the house. “I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t,” I smiled back at him, grateful that I still had friends I could count on, despite Volkov’s best efforts to strip them away from me.
“I still think it’s a stupid idea strolling in there when he’s expecting you. All exposed like that, he could take you out the moment you first step through the door.”
“Volkov won’t kill me so quickly or he would’ve done it a long time ago. His ego’s too big for that. No, he wants me to suffer, and he wants to gloat over it. This is a guy who tortured me for hours, he’s not going to take the easy route. He won’t resist the opportunity to kill Bishop in front of my eyes or worse. That gives us time to work with.”
“I still say you should let me come in with you,” Carter grumbled.
“And give up my ace in the hole? No way. We’ll stick to the plan and everything will be fine.”
“If you say so.”
Despite my brave words, my hands still shook as I approached the front door, standing alone on the stone steps. The overhead lights switched on the second I crossed the threshold, making me blink and throw up my arm, as if that could’ve protected me. But all that hit me was the dazzling light from the chandelier, and the faint sound of mocking laughter.
“Go ahead, I’ll wait until your eyes adjust to the light,” Volkov called out from the far end of the room, his voice echoing in the vast entry hall. I edged forward, my squint easing as I moved away from the massive light fixture to the semi-shadowed atrium that spanned all three levels of the mansion. He’d moved too and I missed it. His voice came from a different part of the room when he spoke next.
“You are surprised to see me, I think,” he smirked, and I couldn’t resist taking that amusement from him.
“No, not really. That’s why I’m here, to end this once and for all. Why else would I be here? You didn’t think Carys would hold up her end of the bargain, did you?” I clucked my tongue at him, watching him carefully.
“Don’t believe a word from her lying mouth!” Carys screeched, stepping out of the shadows with Bishop by her side. “I would never betray you,” she purred at Volkov, and I didn’t bother to suppress my eye roll. I didn’t even care if she was playing along with him to keep to the plan or actually abandoning the plan now that I was within Volkov’s reach, I was just glad to see Bishop unharmed at that point.
“I trust you about as far as I can throw you, my dear,” Volkov replied to Carys with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Still, I find it hard to believe that you would come here alone if you thought I would be waiting for you,” he considered aloud as he turned to me. “No matter, this ends tonight.”
“You’re not wrong there,” I muttered, stepping into the center of the room, beside the enormous planter built into the middle of it. From there, I had a good view of the entire room and the balconies above – harder for anyone to sneak up on me. “Okay, let’s get this over with. I challenge you to fight.”
“Anja, no!” Bishop called out in shock, even as Volkov’s eyes widened in surprise.
“You wish to face me in combat?” he chuckled, clearly tickled by the idea.
“This is not what we talked about,” Bishop glowered, starting forward, only to be held back by Carys.
“This is the only way to end it once and for all. I’m not letting him take one more person from me,” I insisted, meeting Volkov’s gaze squarely. “I’m the one you want to suffer, so go ahead, let’s see you get your hands dirty.”
“Very well, I accept,” Volkov smiled in satisfaction, delicately shrugging out of his jacket and laying it across the top of an empty planter.
“No deal,” Bishop protested, twisting his way out of Carys’ grip.
“It’s too late, it’s already done,” Volkov shrugged. “A challenge has been issued and I have accepted it.”
“Then I’ll fight as Anja’s proxy.”
“You can’t do that,” Carys complained, but nobody paid her any attention.
“I can fight my own battles, Bishop. I’ve been training for a while now. You saw me take down Angel.” It sounded impressive enough to me, but Volkov’s answering snort shook my confidence.
“That’s like saying you’ve played stickball for a while, so you’re ready to step up to the majors,” Bishop replied without a trace of amusement. “I’ve been studying his moves for centuries. Let me do this for you.”
“If anything happened to you…”
Bishop turned away from me without answering. “I claim the right of proxy. As her champion, I fight in Anja’s stead. Do you accept?”
“I do,” Volkov answered agreeably. “Versailles rules?”
“Agreed.” They both start stripping off clothes, peeling down to their boxer briefs, and Carys’ face scrunched in confusion.
“What does that mean, Versailles rules?”
I was glad I wasn’t the only one in the dark.
Bishop very neatly folded his clothes and set them aside, keeping only one small knife that he retrieved from his boot. “It means no weapons but what we bring into the fight, and it means to the death.”
“No!” Carys protested.
“It’s the only way,” Bishop replied, more to me than to her.
“It’s not the only way.” My voice was soft as Bishop touched my cheek.
“But it’s the best one.”
“I forbid it!” Carys’ cheeks turned pink with outrage, and Volkov smiled, enjoying the spectacle immensely.
“He has already accepted the challenge,” he pointed out, selecting a knife of his own from the weapons he’d brought with him. There was quite an array of guns, even a crossbow to choose from, and I wondered why both men had chosen bladed weapons.
“I won’t stand for it.” She all but stamped her foot. “Ulrik, I compel you not to fight.”
I hadn’t counted on that, and my eyes flew wide with alarm as Bishop dropped his fighting stance, his face going wooden.
“Very well, then I will simply kill him all that much quicker,” Volkov declared, choosing a black blade with a serrated edge. “Thank you, my dear.”
Carys’ eyes bulged as she sputtered. “Y-You can’t kill him. We agreed…”
“Silence,” Volkov barked, knocking her to the ground with a wicked backhand, hard enough to make me wince in sympathy. “Don’t interfere again, or I’ll forget our tentative alliance.”
Carys huddled on the floor where she fell, and I rushed to her side, speaking low. “You have to undo the compulsion, it’s the only way he stands a chance.”
“But he could die.”
“He definitely will if you don’t let him defend himself. Besides, Bishop knows what he’s doing.” Our entire plan would fall apart if Bishop lost his free will.
“Oh, very well then,” she huffed. “I withdraw my compulsion, you are free to fight at will,” she said louder, and Bishop lost that dazed look, his fingers re-wrapping around the hilt of his knife. “You’ll be careful though, won’t you, Ulrik?”
“Come on, let him concentrate on the fight,” I insisted, practically dragging her to the side of the courtyard.
“Thank you for waiting,” Bishop nodded politely as he squared off against Volkov.
“Not at all,” Volkov brushed aside his thanks. “Oh, before we begin.” He picked up a crossbow and shot it almost negligently up into the second floor balcony. “Just so we won’t be interrupted,” he added, casually tossing the spen
t crossbow aside.
“No!” I screamed, as Carter tumbled over the railing to the ground, an arrow sticking out of his chest. He landed heavily, cracking the marble tiles as he struck the ground. I started to go to him, not sure if I should be alarmed by the lack of blood around his broken body or not, but Carys caught my wrist in an iron grip.
“You’d best leave him be.”
“I’m not leaving him with an arrow in his heart.” I tried to wrench my hand free, but she held on tight.
“He’ll need blood to heal him, but Bishop might need it more before the night is through.” She had a point, but how was I supposed to ignore Carter’s suffering? Carys must’ve read my thoughts as she added, “He feels no pain with that arrow piercing his heart, I assure you.”
That part was true, I could attest to that. I’d felt more numb than anything when I’d been shot, and then the blackness of torpor. Sure, it’d hurt like a motherfrakker when Bishop pulled the arrow out, but for the moment Carter was fine, as much as I hated to see him lying there so lifeless and still. Well, he’d only be fine if we lived to make sure he healed.
I turned my attention back to the center of the atrium, where Bishop and Volkov had already begun to circle each other, the knives dancing out faster than my eyes could track. Neither one of them had drawn blood yet, more testing their opponent first. That didn’t last long as the fight began in earnest. I might’ve had training, but Bishop was right, I would’ve been nothing but dust if I’d gone head to head with Volkov. He moved lightning fast, his movements controlled and precise. Bishop was no less disciplined, but settled on a defensive, rather than offensive tactic.
Cuts appeared on their arms, shoulders, one long slice across Bishop’s chest making me wince as Carys’ nails dug into my palm. I hadn’t even realized we were holding hands. She was right about the spilled blood, Bishop’s bare chest was slick with it, the scent spicing the air. Volkov too, had been cut multiple times, but his wounds healed much quicker than Bishop’s did.
The knife slipped in Bishop’s hand, and Volkov pressed the advantage, sending it skittering across the floor as he delivered a smashing kick to Bishop’s knee. Bishop went down with a grunt of pain, and Volkov wrapped an arm around his throat, crushing him with his bared bicep. Bishop’s hands scrabbled to break free, but kept slipping in his own spilled blood.