more
humanlike, but huge, and somehow both
hideous and soul-searingly beautiful. He
reached forward and grabbed the spear
that I was wrapped around. I relaxed
fractionally just in time as he pulled it
free with no visible effort. Blood and
flesh sprayed across me. But still I
protected Okalani’s ravaged body.
A flurry of sound and motion outside
the circle drew my attention. Through a
wall of flames I saw Bruno, Creede,
Igor, and a priest in full regalia pouring
through the doorway into the room.
I couldn’t hear the priest speak, but I
saw his lips move. He was performing
the ritual banishment. He looked so
terrified—they all did—and I realized
with a shock that they thought I was
alone and unprotected.
As I should have been.
My faith, while real, is shaky at best.
And the demon had been right about my
being tainted. It wasn’t just that I was
part vampire; I’d been marked by a
demon once before.
The voice in my mind was patient,
kind, and loud. No one is perfect. But
you do have faith. You hold truth dear.
You hold loyalty sacred. And some
days, that is enough.
The demon snarled and paced around
the parts of the circle he could reach,
eyes blazing with hate every time he
reached the invisible boundary line
created by the light. I began to think I
might survive.
As I watched, the priest dipped the
sprinkler into the bucket of holy water
and flung a spray of liquid into the air
above the circle. The drops passed
through the barrier as if it weren’t there.
The demon howled his defiance even
while he dodged frantically, trying to
avoid being hit. Drops splattered to the
ground. When the water hit the being of
white fire, the flames soared, turning it
whole and perfect. Nearly too perfect to
look at.
Again and again the priest repeated
his actions, until the floor of the casting
circle was covered in water and there
was nowhere left for the minion of hell
to hide.
As the priest raised the sprinkler one
last time, the fallen angel called out.
Jan’s corpse levitated up from the floor
and flew into his clawed hand.
He turned to me with a chilling smile.
I will see you in your dreams, dear one.
We are linked, you and I. For all
eternity.
Then he was gone.
34
“I would like a private word with the
princess.” Igor stood just inside the door
to my private hospital room. It was 4:00
A.M. but he looked as fresh as if it was
the beginning of his day. He’d showered
and changed clothes in the hours since
I’d last seen him. Looking at him now,
you’d have no clue that he’d been up all
night dealing with the fallout of
everything that had happened in the last
twenty-four hours. His black suit was
immaculate, the crease in his pants sharp
enough to shave with. The white dress
shirt he wore almost gleamed under the
fluorescent lights.
Bruno, on the other hand, was a
wreck. Slumped in the chair at my
bedside, he wore the same clothes he’d
thrown on in a hurry yesterday morning;
his hair was rumpled and he had more
than a shadow of a beard. Still, he was
alert and wary as he sat up straighter in
his seat. The look he gave me said as
clearly as words that he didn’t think I
was up to this.
He might have been right.
I am a fairly tough cookie, but
everybody has a limit, and I was coming
perilously close to mine. It wasn’t the
violence, or even the demon—although I
wondered if I’d ever relax enough to
sleep soundly again. No, it was the
memories. The things I’d seen in Mexico
had cracked the protective magical
shield that had blunted my memories of
Ivy’s death and my torture. Seeing what
had happened to Okalani had shattered
that barrier entirely.
every cut, the threats and the terror. But
most of all, I remembered my sheer
helplessness as I watched my sister die a
hideously gruesome death because she
couldn’t control the ghouls her talent had
raised. Each memory was as vivid, as
raw, as the day it had happened.
I looked at Igor, who was standing
silent and patient, then took a deep
breath and shoved the memories into a
box in my mind. I slammed down the lid
and hoped it would hold. “I’ll be fine,” I
said to Bruno. “Let us talk.”
Bruno didn’t argue, he just stood. He
bent down to give me a tender kiss. Still
leaning close, he whispered, “Whatever
he wants, say no. You’ve done enough—
more than enough.”
I didn’t answer. It wasn’t Bruno’s
decision to make. It was mine. But I had
to admit that I was leaning toward
having the doctors give me enough
sedatives to knock out an elephant, in
hopes that I would be too deeply
unconscious to dream.
Bruno straightened and shook his
head. Walking past Igor, he gave the
older man a very unfriendly look, but
didn’t say a word. Only after the door
was fully closed and we were alone did
Igor come over to stand beside the bed.
“You are stronger than he knows,”
Igor observed.
And more fragile than you think, I
thought. What I said was, “What do you
need?”
He looked down at me, his expression
so utterly bland that it was at odds with
his words. “We interrogated Princess
Olga thoroughly.” I winced. He didn’t
say torture, but I couldn’t help thinking
it. “While the man you knew as Jan
Mortensen was one of their top men, he
was not the head of the organization.
That man is still in place. So long as he
lives, the movement will continue.”
I didn’t speak, just waited. There was
more. I could tell.
“They have one final plan in place for
during the wedding tomorrow.” He
sighed, sounding weary. Either the strain
of the last few days was showing, or he
was a superlative actor. I couldn’t tell.
But the regret in his voice when he
spoke
next
sounded
sincere.
“Unfortunately, the oath she had taken
killed her before she could give us any
details. But we have a plan.”
Of course they did, and judging by his
prese
nce here, it involved me. “Tell
me.”
“We do not believe that the enemy
knows that we discovered Princess Olga
was the traitor. Her arrest was handled
discreetly, as was her questioning. We
have a spawn on staff who is capable of
being Princess Olga for the duration of
the wedding. He is one of our best
agents. Having him in place in the
wedding party will assure the safety of
the king and offer us the opportunity to
surprise the enemy, and possibly lead
him into an indiscretion that will reveal
the identity of their leader.”
It was possible. I wouldn’t have
thought it was likely, but I wasn’t a spy.
Igor was, and was good enough at his
job to have risen to the top of the
Ruslandic intelligence agency during a
time of serious political turmoil. Too,
the fact that it was the best chance didn’t
mean it was a good one. I gave Igor a
searching look and asked the million-
dollar question. “Who do you think it
is?”
“We don’t know,” he admitted. “But it
has to be someone highly placed and
close enough to the royal family for Olga
to have been able to contact him or her
freely and without notice. We have had
her under close surveillance for the past
several weeks.”
It made sense. And while Igor hadn’t
said that Olga’s father, Prince Arkady,
was a prime suspect, he had to be. Poor
Dahlmar. He had already had to deal
with the betrayal of his sons and his
niece. Now his brother was a suspect,
too. “So, what do you want from me?”
“Just do what you have been. Be the
maid of honor. Guard the princess until
the wedding is over.”
“That’s it?”
“We will handle the rest.”
He sounded awfully confident, but
was he really? If he was that confident,
why even tell me the plan? I could have
just guarded her without needing to
know all of this. I was emotionally
battered and utterly weary. I wanted to
crawl in a hole and not come out for at
least a month, and they knew it. So why
tell me?
Because Adriana needed me. If I quit
now, and something happened to her, I
would never forgive myself.
Igor watched while I worked it out in
my head. “So telling me the plan will
keep me in the wedding party, huh?
Sadly, you’re right. But hey, how bad
can it be?” I asked with a forced smile,
even though I knew how stupid a
question it was.
Igor smiled with me. His baring of
teeth was as cynical as mine. What a
pair we were.
* * *
Igor pulled strings so that I was released
from the hospital immediately and with
minimal fuss. Bruno didn’t say a word in
argument, just glowered menacingly at
all and sundry. I found this equally
annoying and endearing. I was glad that
he loved me and was worried about me.
At the same time, I was irritated that he
was trying to protect me, for the same
reason I’d objected to protection in the
first place. I knew that didn’t make
sense, but emotions frequently don’t.
The doctor met alone with me one last
time before letting me go.
Dr. Shablinski was an older woman,
probably in her sixties. She wore her
hair in a short, spiky style that suited her
harsh features. She was striking but not
pretty. And right now, she was annoyed
and wasn’t bothering to hide it. I could
hear it all too clearly in her heavily
accented mental voice when she spoke
to me mind-to-mind.
I am not pleased that you are leaving
the hospital. It is too soon. Your ears
will not be fully healed, and there is
post-traumatic stress that needs to be
dealt with. You must rest in order to
heal, and I am certain you will not if
you leave. So while I cannot stop you,
you are doing this against medical
advice.
I shrugged. What was there to say? I
understand and, actually, I agree with
you. Once the wedding is over, I intend
to take a nice, long vacation.
A … vacation. Her voice sounded dry
in my head. How do you plan to do that
if you can’t sleep?
Ouch. She was evidently as observant
as she was efficient.
I don’t know. I keep remembering …
I let the sentence drag off unfinished, not
wanting to repeat the demon’s parting
words to me.
She sighed. I am going to order a
sedative for you—but only enough pills
for one week. It will allow you
dreamless slumber, but it is not a
permanent solution. You will need to
work something out with your cleric,
and I would strongly suggest therapy.
If you don’t have a therapist—
I have one back home on the
mainland.
She nodded and started writing on a
pad. Good. If you give me her number
and sign a release, I can update her as
to what has happened. You are going to
need to address tonight’s events.
No kidding. Tonight’s events. Last
week’s. Last month’s. Last year’s.
Sheesh. I could foresee paying for
Gwen’s future mansion with the therapy
bills. But she was the best. And it would
absolutely be worth the price if she
could help me pull myself back together.
Because, while I had been trying to put
up a good front in front of Bruno and
Igor, I was faking it big-time.
At the same time, I was worried.
Gwen had once told me that if anything
happened to my protections, she
wouldn’t be able to reestablish them—
doing so might destroy all my memories.
I signed the appropriate paperwork,
took the proffered prescription, and we
were on our way.
Creede was waiting at the car. Like
Bruno, he didn’t say a word. But it
wasn’t the first time he’d seen me throw
myself into danger right after a demon
encounter. He just shook his head and
got into the front passenger seat while
Bruno got in next to me in the back.
Even early as it was, there was an
electric excitement in the air. It was as if
the whole country was a small child and
it
was
finally, finally
Christmas
morning. Today was the wedding day.
The limo drove through the streets
leading to the castle in the thin, watery
light of dawn. I watched through the
window as the vendors bustled and
tourists stumbled sleepily up to the
&nb
sp; police barriers, clutching steaming mugs
or Styrofoam cups as they shivered
slightly in the early-morning chill. Later
in the day it was supposed to be sunny
and in the seventies, but at the moment it
was quite cool.
Had it really only been days since I’d
made a similar pre-wedding drive
through the streets of Serenity? It felt
like years. Bad, dark years filled with
pain.
Enough
with
the
depressing
thoughts, I admonished myself. It’s
Adriana’s wedding day. I wished I
could be as excited about it as the
bystanders I saw outside the car
windows. I just wasn’t. I tried giving
myself a little internal pep talk, but the
results were less than stellar.
Just get through the day. You can do
this.
We reached the compound at 6:30. I
sped to my rooms to relieve myself,
have a quick shower, and retrieve my
weapons and jewelry before heading
down to the dressing room. At my
request, the servants agreed to bring my
breakfast there.
We were getting dressed in a different
small room, not the one used for the
fittings the previous day. I was glad. I
don’t exactly believe in bad luck, but I
wouldn’t have wanted to start this day in
that room.
As before, the dresses were hung on
racks, with the bridesmaids’ dresses
shoved down to one end and Adriana’s
wedding gown taking the rest of the
space. I’d gotten only a peek at it before
I was teleported away; now I took a
closer look.
It was gorgeous, a simple, elegant
design in ivory silk with embroidery and
pearl beads and a long train trimmed in
lace. I knew she would look absolutely
stunning in it.
On the east wall were the hair and
makeup areas. Neither were manned at
the moment, but all the equipment was
laid out at the ready. On another wall, a
television
played.
The
British
announcers were filling the time before
the actual event translating local
background stories about everything
from the designers of Adriana’s dress
and
veil
to
Rusland’s
wedding
traditions. A clock in one bottom corner
of the screen showed a countdown until
the wedding.
When she saw me at the door,
Adriana ran to greet me with a glad cry
and a huge hug. She was wearing a full-
length housecoat, her hair loose and
uncombed. Even so, she was gorgeous.