by Tinnean
Eventually he’d had no choice but to give up on Matthew.
Tyrell’s three older siblings might perhaps produce the next generation of sabors that combined the Dragomir/Lupescu lines, but it remained to be seen how those children would react to their destiny.
As for Tyrell himself….
Mondragon sighed. If Tyrell would only allow Adam to feed from him, or refused to feed another without Adam’s presence, Mondragon would have to consider this experiment less than successful.
“Your Grace. I’ve placed Ty into a deep sleep.” Adam’s words brought him out of his reverie, and he met his nephew’s gaze. This wasn’t something done lightly, but Mondragon could understand the necessity for his action. “This has been a stressful day for him.” He growled out the next words. “And I. Have had. Enough. De Vivar has been allowed his excesses for too long. I will deal with him!”
Adam had a mild temperament. He’d known from a very young age that it was highly unlikely he would ever become rege—that position would one night go to Aurel, Mondragon’s older grandson. Mondragon was fond of his nephew, and the last thing he’d wanted was to give him false hope. Adam was satisfied to be his equerry.
But at this moment, the usual cinnamon brown of Adam’s eyes had been replaced by the flashing red of an enraged vampyr.
“I have no objection. However, Tyrell is our most important concern just now. Take him to my citadel. Give him the room his bedroom was modeled after—we don’t want him waking in a strange room and panicking.”
“Ty, panicking?” Adam’s expression was proud. “You didn’t see him standing here with a baseball bat, ready to take on whatever was outside his front door.”
“Was he really willing to do that?” He found himself smiling as well. As rege, he was supposed to be impartial, but this sabor was in actual fact a wonder. “You’re to make sure he’s comfortable.” There was no question of him being safe. Even a vampyr as megalomaniacal as the Duque de Málaga would think twice and three times about broaching those walls. “Once you’re certain of that, return here.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Taking Tyrell to the citadel must have been Adam’s intention, since the sabor was once again clothed. Adam raised Tyrell into his arms and walked to the front of the house. “Mina.” The Înger Păzitor, her ears erect, had been bouncing beside him—after all, she was still technically a puppy.
And this was something else unusual, since unless a vampyr came to feed on its sabor, the guard dogs tended to keep their distance.
Mondragon stooped and gathered her up. “Yes, you’re going with them.” He placed her on Tyrell, and she lay down, balancing herself carefully. “Go now, Adam, and return quickly.”
Adam bowed his head—he couldn’t give a more formal bow while holding the sabor—and Mondragon opened the door for him.
Adam was no sooner gone than Raymond Girard entered the house. “Mon seigneur.”
“What did you learn?”
The big vampyr shrugged. “Through what was left of the rogues’ clothes—”
“What was left?”
“The holy water seems to have acted like acid.”
“Yes. Of course. Go on.”
“We were able to ascertain the enclave to which the rogues belonged. I sent Michel, Pascal, and Grigore to pay the American vampyr who runs it a visit.”
“Lilitu! As if we needed another de Vivar. His name?”
“Her name.”
“A woman?”
“Oui. Lindsey Diamond. I told them to bring her to the citadel. I didn’t think you’d want her to enter Ty’s house.”
“No, you’re right.”
“One thing I found interesting—”
“Just one thing?” Since he’d been summoned to the hospital on the night after Tyrell Small was born, it had been like a roller coaster, with one thing after another, most unexpected and all fascinating.
Girard gave him a blank look. Well, he’d never found him to have much of a sense of humor.
“You were saying?”
“Yes. Ty told me the vampyr who tried to seize him wound up seizing instead the charm he’d made. It had Duke Adam’s blood on it.”
“Ah. I see.” A born vampyr’s blood could be lethal to one who had been turned, although it was usually direct contact that did the damage.
“I’m glad someone does,” Girard muttered, and then he grinned at Mondragon, letting the rege know he was fully aware of this, which was a good thing; it wouldn’t be wise for his chief enforcer to be ignorant of these matters.
But Mondragon would also need to discuss this with Adam. Why had he put his blood on the sabor’s charm?
“At any rate,” Girard was saying, “the enforcers will make sure everyone is aware a sabor was attacked by that clan, and that he successfully defended himself. I thought it best to mention a day watcher was involved as well. We don’t want younger vampyrs to try their powers against him.”
“Good work. Where is Mac Lochlainn?”
“He knows of some of de Vivar’s lairs and has gone to see if he’s gone to ground in any of them.”
“Keep me informed.”
“Yes, mon seigneur. I’ll leave Nicolae to keep watch here while I see Ekaterina home.”
“It is hardly necessary. Do you think anyone would dare attack me?”
“Who thought anyone would dare attack a sabor?”
“I’m not a—” He could see Girard was going to object. “Very well, leave the enforcer.”
“Thank you. I’ll return shortly. Duke Adam will join us?”
“Yes.”
Girard nodded, gave a bow, and then Mondragon was alone. And annoyed. He was neither so young as to have no experience in defending himself nor so old as to be decrepit. He fully intended to rule another five or six hundred years at the very least. At that point he would abdicate rule to his grandson.
For a moment he thought of his daughter. Theirs wasn’t a patriarchal society, and she would have been next in line to the throne if it hadn’t been for her actions fifteen years before. He’d had no choice but to remove her from the succession.
Aurel would make a good rege, in spite of his unusual paternity, and he would have Adam to instruct and guide him.
Feeling a trifle hungry, Mondragon wandered into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. A lone bag of blood was on the shelf. He’d need to remind Girard to stock up on more.
He took the bag out, placed it in the microwave, and recalled those days before the Great Plague, when blood could be had for the taking from a peasant, a nobleman, or even a pope or a king. As for sabors, in spite of what he’d told Tyrell, they’d belonged solely to the royal family, to be used as a gift, a reward, or simply on a whim.
No matter. One must move with the times.
While he waited for the blood to warm, he gave some consideration to this situation with de Vivar. It was becoming more and more disastrous.
He should have destroyed de Vivar’s talisman centuries ago, and he would have if his sister hadn’t had a fondness for the Spaniard.
Because of his own fondness for Terese, he’d been willing to overlook a good many of de Vivar’s faults, on occasion to the detriment of both vampyrs and sabors.
De Vivar might not be aware of it, but all his bats were about to come home to hang upside down from the ceiling. He’d worn out whatever fondness Terese Dasani had once had for him, and Mondragon had no more patience for de Vivar’s overweening ambitions.
As soon as Adam returned, they would decide the best way to find and deal with de Vivar. Once that was done, he’d need to give some consideration to Tyrell Small. The young sabor had enraptured his nephew. Could that be permitted to continue?
After a minute or so, the microwave dinged, and he removed the bag. His fangs extended, and he sank them into the bag and began to feed.
II
ADAM HAD no doubt the expression on his face warned anyone with half a brain to get out of his path. The guards outside the huge dou
ble doors of the rege’s citadel must have come to the same agreement, because they took one look at him, threw open the doors, and stepped aside.
He strode through the Great Hall, determined to ignore everyone who was gathered there. He tightened his grip on Ty.
“Who…?”
“Is that…?”
“May we see…?”
“Not now,” he snarled.
Servants, vampyrs, enforcers… his mother… all attempted to get a closer look at the young man he carried. Many of them had never had the opportunity to be this close to a sabor like Ty.
Still asleep, he foiled them by the simple expediency of turning his face into Adam’s neck.
“What’s going on, Adam?”
“Mother, I’ll explain as soon as I get Ty settled.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“Thank you, but that isn’t necessary.” As much as he wanted to snap, he didn’t—he owed that much respect to his mother, and she wasn’t the cause of his distress. That Ty should have a nightmare so severe it caused him to weep….
His mother broke into his thoughts. “On the contrary.”
And he knew he had better surrender. When she used that cool tone, not even his father challenged her.
A blonde vampyr he’d seen once or twice around the citadel, and who he knew to be one of de Vivar’s, had the audacity to come closer, reaching out a hand to touch Ty’s bare foot.
Adam would have snarled, “I said not now!” but he didn’t have to say a word: Mina was on her feet on Ty’s abdomen, her muzzle wrinkled as a savage growl vibrated in her throat, and the blonde—Rhiannon—shied away.
“Bitch!” she muttered. She backed farther away when he glowered at her.
A wave of whispers followed them up the curving staircase to the second level. Idiots, he thought uncharitably. They should have known he’d hear them no matter how softly they marveled over the sabor in his arms.
Ty sighed, and the warmth of that breath against his throat made Adam shiver. He was so trusting….
“I’m sure Alexandru requires your presence, my son. Don’t dawdle.”
“No, Mother.” Adam reached the upper landing and gazed down at the limp body in his arms. There had never been a reason for him to hold a sabor in this manner, but that didn’t mean he would allow anything to stop him from doing this now, with his sabor.
In the history of the relationship between vampyrs and sabors, there had never been a time when an individual sabor was put under the protection of an individual vampyr. Before the Great Plague, sabors had belonged to the royal family, who shared them with their nobles and occasionally the gentry. Now, almost seven hundred years after the Plague, things were vastly different. Making sure Ty stayed safe was a task he was pleased… more than pleased, gratified… had been given to him.
Adam knew the sabor could never be his alone, but Ty, on the other hand, seemed to have other ideas. He’d refused one vampyr after another, even if it brought him to the edge of desperation with the need to be fed from.
“Which room, Adam?”
“The blue chamber, Mother.”
“Of course.” She went ahead of him, her movements graceful as her long skirts swished with each step, and turned the doorknob. She threw open the door, stepped inside, and turned on a lamp.
Adam entered and hurried to the bed. The familiarity of this room would be a comfort when Ty woke in the morning.
“Off, Mina.”
The Înger Păzitor leaped from Ty to the bed and scrambled to get out of the way. Adam shifted Ty in his arms, but before he could turn down a corner of the bedspread, his mother was there.
“Thank you.”
“Would he be impressed, do you think, to learn I did this for him?” she asked.
“I think it’s likely. He confessed once he’s always been in awe of the European royalty.” He laid Ty down, and Mina came to his side and curled up against him.
“Poor sabor.” She stroked her fingers across Ty’s brow, and even in his sleep, he protested and turned away. “What happened?”
“De Vivar’s adepţi tried to seize him, a band of vampyrs attempted to carry him off, and finally someone infiltrated his dreams.”
She spat a curse in Romanian, and Adam was sure his father had no idea she knew such a word. “Do you know who?”
“At this point, no. It couldn’t have been de Vivar, since he was severely damaged.”
“Poor little boy.”
“Hardly that, Mother.” Adam sank down at the edge of the bed, not really surprised when Ty turned and nestled into his thigh. He combed the fingers of one hand through Ty’s hair and gave a faint smile as the strands curled around his forefinger and seemed to cling. “He’s—”
“Love you, Adam,” Ty murmured, still asleep.
He did, and wasn’t that a most unusual thing? Adam didn’t need to feed just yet, and Tyrell didn’t need to feed a vampyr for at least another week or so.
“I love you too, dragul meu.” He leaned down to brush his lips over Ty’s cheek, but Ty turned his head and the kiss wound up on his lips. Ty gripped the talisman where it hung beneath Adam’s shirt over his heart, and held on tightly.
“Adam?” His mother sounded stunned, but he knew it wasn’t because he’d kissed Ty. Although at one time he’d dallied with women—vampyrs as well as saborese—the family knew he preferred the male to the female.
What she found so shocking was in the normal course of events, Adam would never permit anyone to touch such a valued token. However, it was obvious this was hardly normal.
“Didn’t the rege tell you how unusual Ty is?” He eased Ty’s fingers from around his talisman, pressed a final kiss to his palm, and rose.
“He did mention Tyrell was surprisingly attached to you.”
“And I seem to be attached to him.” He couldn’t flush—he hadn’t fed recently enough for that—but if he had, he would have. “I’ve got to leave. This night isn’t over, and there’s still much the rege needs me to do.”
“Of course.” She walked to the door and waited for him. “Ioan is in residence.”
Adam swore under his breath. It wasn’t as if the younger of the rege’s twin grandsons would harm Ty purposely. Born vampyrs learned from an early age to have a care not only toward sabors but to the saborese as well. But he was only fourteen and in addition wasn’t a full-blooded vampyr.
“Mina.” The Înger Păzitor raised her head. “Watch over him.”
She woofed as if to say “Don’t tell me my job” and rested her head on Ty’s hip.
Well, better safe than sorry.
Sending a final glance toward his sabor, Adam turned off the lamp, left the room behind his mother, and made sure the door was closed firmly behind him. He took a moment to secure it, so anyone other than himself would get a nasty shock if they attempted to enter before the wards were lifted.
Smiling grimly, he turned away.
“Adam.”
“Yes, Mother?”
“De Vivar wants to be rege more than anything, and he’ll do whatever he thinks is necessary to gain that station. He… isn’t quite sane.”
“Why did you turn him?”
“When he learned who I was, he kept importuning me. I thought it was because he was in love with me.”
“But you realized that wasn’t the case once you had turned him.” And perhaps she had been a little in love with him, because not much could be hidden from a born vampyr.
“No. Be careful, my son.”
He went to her and kissed her cheek. “Always.”
He left her at the top of the stairs and descended to the lower level. Was it too much to hope the mob in the Great Hall had dissipated?
He paused halfway down.
Yes, it seemed it was.
“I must meet with His Grace. When we return, you may direct all your questions to him.” As he’d known, that squashed their curiosity. “Until then, no one will disturb the sabor. Have I made myself clear?”<
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The enforcers curled their lips at him, as if anyone other than the rege could possibly concern them.
The nobles and gentry left for whatever the night had in store for them, as if such an idea had never crossed their minds.
And the servants scuttled out, as if their intentions had already been discerned.
After a final glance toward the upper level, Adam walked out of the citadel.
Within a matter of minutes, he would be back at Ty’s little house, and as he’d told his mother, there was still a good deal to do.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
COME AS YOU ARE
SCRATCHING AT the door woke me out of a sound sleep. “Wha…?”
After that lulu of a nightmare earlier in the night, I hadn’t had any others, which surprised me, given the way yesterday had turned out. I was pretty sure the only reason I’d been plagued with just a single nightmare was that Adam had stayed with me for a while.
A glance at the clock on the night table showed it was 3:36 a.m.
“Darn it, Min. Adam said he was going to walk you! Don’t tell me you have to go out again!”
She woofed, and I jumped. She was right beside me.
What the heck?
Grumbling, I tossed back the covers and rolled out of bed. The room was chilly, not really unusual for this month, because while May could have some hot days, June could have some that were equally cool. I remembered Dad having to turn up the heat any number of times in June, unhappy because he’d had the air-conditioning on just a couple of days earlier.
The scratching at my bedroom door became more insistent. Adam had things he had to do for the rege, but Raymond wouldn’t leave my home unguarded.
“Keep your shirt on,” I muttered as I crossed to the door. “Geez Louise, Ray. I already gave you permission to enter my room.” I reached for the doorknob, which was surprisingly warm. For a second I thought the knob wouldn’t turn, but then it did, and I yanked open the door. “Why’d you have to—you’re not Raymond!”