Vlad’s allies would arrive too late. So would he. We were all going to die.
I knew that, yet I heaved myself up from the rubble anyway. Vlad had spent hundreds of years hardening his heart so he’d never experience loss again, and I’d rammed through his barriers to make him admit that he loved me. Even if it was pointless, I’d fight until the bloody, bitter end. I owed him that.
Besides, I thought, forcing myself through the sea of people still pouring into the dungeon despite more than half of it being destroyed, I owed Szilagyi, too. He hadn’t just attacked Vlad; these were my house, my friends, and my people, too!
If Szilagyi had come with his people to admire the destruction he’d wrought, I intended to make it the last sight he ever saw.
Chapter 9
It took several minutes to get from the staircase to the main level of the house. Between fighting my way through the panicked flood of people, I also had to clear out heavy pieces of debris. The second metal door had been shaken right off its frame, forcing those on the stairwell to climb over it until I leaned it against the wall to make more room. The third door was nowhere to be found, probably because that section had crumbled completely, revealing a deep crevasse where the door used to be.
I ended up backtracking to carry the second door over to the crevasse, laying it over the open space to allow the group of traumatized humans on the other side to use it as a makeshift bridge. The dungeon might be blown half to bits, but it was still safer than the rest of the house. I left them with assurances that help was on the way, and then I continued going up.
Once I reached the basement, I had to climb through a charred hole in the ceiling to get to the main level of the house. The hallway ahead had completely caved in, and I tried not to wonder if any of the body parts I glimpsed in the rubble belonged to Marty. When I scrambled up the pile of wreckage and the main floor came into view, my mind froze for a second. This flaming ruin could not be the magnificent grand hall that had so dazzled me the first time I saw it.
The frescoed ceilings were gone, replaced with huge holes that revealed the sky. Napalm continued to eat through debris piles that were all that remained of the upper floors. Whatever wasn’t being destroyed by fire was collapsing as the house continued to pancake under its own weight. When the debris pile next to me began to slide in an ominous manner, I ran through what looked like a charred tunnel, grief and anger quickening my steps. The last time I’d seen Marty, he’d been in the main hall. Now, all that was left here was destruction and death.
Please, let him be alive, I found myself praying.
I cleared the tunnel and found myself standing on what used to be the fancy covered portico. Outside, the full damage from Szilagyi’s attack was revealed.
More than half of the house had collapsed, reducing it to barely more than one story on the north and east ends before the southern side rose up in seeming defiance against the assault that still raged on. Three out of the four towering turrets had been leveled, leaving only holes where black smoke spewed into the lightening predawn sky. The tunnel I’d run through turned out to be the grand entranceway, which now looked like a giant had punched a flaming fist through the debris. Stone chimneys stuck up like lone sentries amid the blackened remains where napalm had eaten through all the wood, concrete, and plaster from the collapsed house. The stone gate was mostly intact, but the manned towers had been reduced to crumbling ruins. From the heavy artillery and anti-aircraft weapons now lying like broken toys on the scorched ground, Szilagyi must have made sure to take the towers out first in his assault.
With their most effective weapons out of commission, the surviving guards were reduced to throwing pieces of the stone ruins at the helicopters that hovered like mechanical demons over the house, spraying fire onto its remains. As I watched, one of them managed to hit a chopper, causing it to careen into the nearby tree line. Savage exultation filled me as I saw black smoke billowing up from the crash site moments later.
Now I knew what I needed to do to help. I started running toward the section of the house where the largest number of survivors had gathered, probably because it had a big pile of stone statues that had broken free when the house crumpled. Then, a sudden blast behind me pitched me forward. I landed face-first in a pile of burnt metal objects that I dimly recognized as coming from the Weapons Room.
Screams jerked my head up. An attack helicopter roared over me, spraying deadly lines of orange at the group of guards ahead. They ran, but not fast enough. At least four of them were coated with that horrible, clinging fire that ate through whatever it touched like a ravenous monster. Before I made it to my feet, they were already dead, their blackened bodies breaking apart over the stones they’d tried to use as weapons.
Rage infused me with fresh strength. I ran toward a pile of large stone pieces, but before I got there, another chopper swooped in, positioning itself between me and the only things I could use to bring it down.
Despite the smoke and thick glass covering the pilot’s cockpit, I could see that his eyes were glowing, vampire green. Then the helicopter’s long cylinders pointed their deadly payload right at me. I braced—and fire blasted into me with the force of a tidal wave. The sheer velocity knocked me over. Cracking, popping, and breaking sounds joined the roar of flames, but the only pain I felt was from landing on something hard as the floor collapsed beneath me. When I opened my eyes, I was looking up at a smoking, glowing hole, napalm still clinging and burning everything it touched.
Except me. I brushed the smoldering remains of falling debris from me and stood up. My jeans and top were ripped, but not burnt. Vlad’s aura protected me just as it did with him. Even my hair whipped around in its usual long, black waves, not a single end singed. Vlad’s aura was still intact, but I didn’t know for how long. It had worn off the last time I’d been exposed to repeated, high-intensity flames.
I jumped out of the hole, noting grimly that the remaining three assault choppers were chasing the surviving guards. I ran over to the pile of fallen stone, choosing the largest, sturdiest piece, which happened to be a gargoyle statue. The pilots didn’t see me when I ran toward where they hovered because none of their helicopters were pointed my way. Why would they be? They thought they’d eliminated the danger on this end of the ruined castle.
I planted my feet and used all the supernatural strength I had to chuck the snarling stone gargoyle at the back of the closest helicopter. It smashed into the main rotors, causing the chopper to violently dip to the right, then roll and crash with a satisfying explosion into the ruined east side of the house.
That got the attention of the remaining two choppers. They swung around, shooting flaming arcs in my direction. I dove under the nearest pile of stone, using that as a barrier against the worst of the flames. My body felt like it was in a microwave from the heat, but Vlad’s aura held, keeping the fire from scorching the flesh right off me. When that orange blast stopped, I was already hefting up a large piece of stone.
The helicopter’s abrupt shift to the right wasn’t enough. The pillar I threw tore through the cockpit, slamming into the pilot and causing the chopper to drop like, well, a stone. I didn’t have time to run away from the fire that blasted out as the helicopter exploded. Instead of being afraid of Vlad’s aura dissolving, for a few moments, I found myself savoring the flames as they skipped over me.
That’s for everyone you murdered today! I thought, filled with vengeful satisfaction at the destruction of the helicopter. Then I began looking for another piece of stone. Only one more chopper remained and I needed to stop it before anyone else was killed.
When the last helicopter swung back around, I had a large piece of rock ready to go. Before I could throw it, multiple firecrackers went off and something hard smashed into me. Somehow, I was looking at the sky instead of at my final target.
“Leila!” someone yelled. More firecrackers sounded, cutting that person’s voice off. I tried to get up but couldn’t. That’s when I finally look
ed down.
At least I’m not in pain, was my first, stupid thought, as if that made me any less riddled with bullets. The pilot must’ve switched his weapons when he saw that fire didn’t work on me.
Spoke too soon, my hated inner voice mocked as pain roared through me with such intensity, it was as though it was trying to make up for those first agony-free seconds. I heard the helicopter closing in, tried again to get up, and was immediately strafed with a fresh barrage of bullets. Now I couldn’t even turn my head, so when the helicopter hovered right above me, I was completely helpless to save myself.
Something big dropped out of it. I couldn’t see what because my vision was blurry and red tinged. As if regular time had been replaced with slow motion, I watched the dark blur fall toward me. This is it, I thought, the macabre part of my mind wondering what the instrument of my death would be. A missile? Napalm bomb? The fire might not burn me, but the resulting explosion would blow me to kingdom come—
The thing dropped next to me and scooped me into his arms. “Leila,” a familiar voice said.
Even more shocking was the next voice I heard, also familiar—and despised.
“Get away from her, Maximus,” Szilagyi ordered.
My vision cleared enough to see Vlad’s worst enemy striding toward us. Gray still clung to his temples before streaking through his dark hair. His strong jaw and athlete’s build also added to his air of seasoned command. I’d described him as distinguished-looking when I first saw him in a psychic vision, and Mihaly Szilagyi still fit that bill.
Of course, he was also the most evil person I’d ever met, in person or through my abilities.
“Maximus, run,” I whispered. How he’d gotten here, I had no idea, but he needed to leave. Maybe Maximus had been one of the “nearby allies” Vlad had sent to help—
“I told you, she’s worth more to you alive,” Maximus replied, his harsh voice breaking through the pain that fought to cloud my mind with senseless agony.
Szilagyi smiled at me with icy expectation. “I disagree.”
Realization hit me, as devastating to my emotions as the silver bullets had been to my body. Maximus hadn’t been sent by Vlad to help us. He’d come with Szilagyi to destroy us! If I could’ve moved, I would have shoved away from him, but all the silver burning inside me stole my strength.
“Killing his wife almost finished Vlad the last time I did it,” Szilagyi continued. “Perhaps this time, the guilt will be enough to finally crush him.”
“What?” I rasped, stunned into replying. “You didn’t kill Clara. She committed suicide.”
Szilagyi came closer, until only a few feet separated us. “Clara didn’t jump to her death—I pushed her off that roof, then erased everyone’s memory of my presence afterward. This time, though, Vlad will know exactly who killed his wife, and why.”
Maximus’s thick arms tightened around me. “Don’t be a fool,” he said in a flat tone. “The closest you’ve ever come to defeating Vlad was when you held Leila hostage, and that was before he married her. Kill her now; you’ll upset him for a few months. Take her with you, and Vlad will be so determined to get her back, he’ll make a lethal, reckless mistake—”
I couldn’t push myself out of his grip, but my right hand had been creeping toward Maximus the entire time he spoke. When it reached his thigh, I channeled all my remaining voltage into him. With a satisfying crack, he was blown out of my line of sight, hopefully now in pieces.
Then I mustered up a smile at Szilagyi. “No matter what you do, you’ll never win against Vlad.”
Szilagyi squatted down until his dark brown gaze was almost level with mine. “I will really enjoy killing you,” he said, his tone so pleasant it belied the sinister words. “But I can always do that later. For now, I’ll see if Maximus is right and you’re the straw that ends up breaking Vlad’s back.”
I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t want to be the cause of Vlad’s death, either. Besides, with the pain increasing until it felt like I was being napalmed on the inside, I might not last long enough for Szilagyi to kill me “later.”
“Touch me. See how it works out,” I said, letting out a harsh laugh.
Szilagyi glanced past me, where unfortunately, I could hear Maximus moaning. Damn. I hadn’t killed him.
“I don’t need to do anything but wait,” he said, sounding so confident that I managed another gasping laugh. Didn’t he know that Vlad’s allies would be here any minute—?
A blaze of light hit my eyes as the first rays of dawn touched the ruined, smoking castle. Before I could finish my thought, I was already unconscious.
Chapter 10
My hated inner voice awoke before the rest of me did. Its taunting whisper of “What is this? The fourth time?” acted as an alarm clock to my subconscious. If I never woke up as someone’s captive again, it would be too soon.
Then, like the other times, I began to assess my situation while pretending to still be unconscious. No more searing pain, so someone had taken the silver out of me. Arms completely immobile, check. Legs immobile, check. Right hand encased in something rubbery, check. No gag, though, and the lack of pitching or vibration meant I wasn’t on a boat, car, train or plane. Whether that was good or bad, I’d soon find out.
“ . . . telling you, this is the best way to prevent her from using her abilities to link to Vlad,” Maximus was saying. “Even if she managed to get her hand free, she’d run up against a clean slate instead of an essence map.”
When my eyes opened, the first thing I saw was Maximus standing at the far end of the room. Szilagyi was with him, looking intrigued by whatever Maximus had proposed. A tripod camera was set up a few feet from me, and in a corner, a fair-haired vampire bent over a table as if he had no interest in anything except its contents. The room itself didn’t tell me anything useful. The walls, floor and ceiling were stone, so we were underground . . . somewhere. If I’d stayed out until dusk like I usually did, we might not even be on the same continent anymore.
I fought against the despair that tried to poison my emotions. One of the advantages to being a repeat captive was the knowledge that there was always a way out of a tough situation. You just had to keep looking until you found it.
Then the platinum blond vampire moved enough to reveal the objects on his table, and my stomach felt like it tried to crawl into my spine to hide. The worst part about being a repeat captive? Knowing firsthand how excruciating torture was.
I must have made a noise, or maybe my scent changed with dread, because Maximus and Szilagyi quit talking to stare at me.
“Hello, Leila,” Szilagyi said. The two words purred with luxuriant menace. “What do you think of my taking you now?”
Begging would be useless. So would making threats or trying to negotiate. You didn’t capture your worst enemy’s wife and chain her in an underground room with a table full of sharp instruments because you cared about anything she had to say.
“I think getting a fresh cup of blood is probably out of the question,” I settled on.
Being a smartass was the only option I had left. Besides, maybe a little false bravado would help me endure what was about to happen. Fake it until you make it, as the saying went.
Szilagyi smiled with what looked like genuine amusement. “I’m starting to see why Vlad and Maximus have fallen for you.”
“I’d blush if I wasn’t undead,” I muttered. What was that curved knife with the partial loop on the handle for?
Szilagyi caught what I was looking at and his smile widened. “I intended to let Harold torture you the way he normally does, but Maximus just told me how you really kept slipping through my nets the other times I’d captured you. I knew you could link to Vlad through essence imprints on objects or other people, but I didn’t know you could also link to him through the imprints he left on your skin.”
I swung a hate-filled glare toward Maximus. Despite what he’d done, Vlad had given him a second chance and I had trusted him again, too. Was there
no end his backstabbing?
His gray eyes didn’t waver. “I don’t have a choice, Leila.”
“Yes, you do,” I spat. “You could die with some dignity, like I intend to do.”
“Oh, you’re not going to die,” Szilagyi said, sounding a bit disappointed this time. “I’ve agreed to let Maximus keep you, if he’s right and you bring about Vlad’s demise. Never let it be said that I don’t reward loyalty among my people.”
“Is that why you did it?” I asked Maximus, incredulous. “You’re still holding on to the fantasy that if Vlad was out of the picture, I’d be with you?”
“Something like that.” Then his rugged features hardened. “Don’t give yourself all the credit. I was loyal to Vlad for over five hundred years, yet he threw me out of his line after one mistake. Would’ve killed me, too, if not for the promise you forced out of him. In one month, Szilagyi’s treated me better than Vlad did in centuries.”
“Thank you,” Szilagyi said mildly.
Bitterness made my voice vibrate. “I so regret stopping Vlad from killing you, and I hope you get the same reward Shrapnel and Cynthiana got for their loyalty. Or didn’t you know that Szilagyi blew them up when he took out the lower dungeon?”
“Whose idea do you think that was?” Szilagyi interjected, actually managing to sound offended. “Cynthiana knew what would happen if Vlad ever caught her, so she wanted an insurance policy that doubled as vengeance. She’s the one who had Shrapnel set charges around the house’s foundations and the dungeon, then spelled both of them so they couldn’t admit to it under torture. I agreed not to blow the charges unless they were captured, which, after weeks of not hearing from her, became obvious. Bringing down Vlad’s house serves me little purpose otherwise. I couldn’t do it while he was there or he’d turn the fire right back around on my people, and I expected you to be traveling with him.” A taunting smile. “How happy I was to be mistaken.”
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