Into the Fire, Page 2

  Branson was staring at the screen that showed Vlad and me next to the smoking, misshapen remains of the Porsche. Then he looked at the steel walls of his panic room, and an expression of horror crossed his features.

  “He’s watching us, and I think he just realized you can melt your way into his hideout,” I narrated.

  Vlad’s hands erupted into flames and he gave Branson a cheery wave while mouthing the words, Here I come.

  Vampires were naturally pale, but Branson blanched a shade I’d only seen on someone dead dead. Vlad began striding toward the manor, and I watched as Branson reached into a drawer. He came up with a gun, and with shaking hands, he checked the clip to make sure that it was loaded. It was, and from the look of them, they were silver bullets.

  “He’s got a gun filled with silver,” I told Vlad, who was now at the front of the manor.

  He snorted. “Branson just saw me melt a car. Doesn’t he realize I can melt a gun, too?”

  “I’m sure you can,” Branson said, and though Vlad couldn’t hear him, I could through my psychic link. Then, very calmly, Branson put the gun to his chest and pulled the trigger.

  “Oh shit!” I shouted, seeing Branson continue to shoot himself although his movements were becoming stiff and uncoordinated. “Hurry, Vlad, he’s killing himself!”

  Vlad flew the rest of the way, blasting through walls to get to the second floor. Then, with an expulsion of power that knocked me to my knees even a hundred yards away, he tore a molten hole into the panic room. He was kneeling by Branson’s prone form less than thirty seconds after my warning.

  It was still too late. My link to Branson weakened as he began to wither, his body reverting to its original age as all vampires did when true death overtook them. When the link dropped completely and I felt nothing but emptiness on the other side of Branson’s essence trail, I spat out a curse.

  Branson had been our best chance to find Mircea. With him dead, we were now back to square one, which was having no idea where Mircea was.

  Vlad had had powerful enemies before, but Mircea was unique. He was a powerful sorcerer, though necromancer was a more accurate term since Mircea could bespell the undead as well as humans. That and a spell linking us together meant that Mircea could find me any time he wanted to. I gave one more look at the smoking car and the still-burning mansion. Yeah, I had no doubt that I’d be hearing from Mircea soon. Very soon.

  Chapter 2

  Vlad and I didn’t speak much on the flight back to Romania. He also had his emotions locked up, but I figured that was more to shut out the pilots than me. They were also vampires he’d sired and thus could feel him the same way I did. I’d spent several hours of the flight looking through the memories locked inside Branson’s bones—another handy perk of my psychic abilities—but I hadn’t found anything useful.

  Memories in bones were more erratic and imprecise, like trying to understand a movie if you watched it backward at a high speed. All I’d been able to glean from his bones was that Branson had been in league with Mircea for at least a few months, which we already knew from Vlad’s diligent spies. Yet those spies hadn’t been able to discover where Mircea was, and if Branson knew, he’d taken that secret with him to the grave.

  I’d spent the rest of the flight trying to diminish the grimness of our coming back empty-handed, but Vlad had brushed off my attempts at optimism. When we arrived at the magnificent castle that was an exact replica of the one that Vlad had destroyed several months ago, he announced that he had business to attend to and he’d see me later.

  I knew him well enough not to argue. He needed some time to blow off steam, and I needed time to shower and feed, preferably in that order. I nodded to the few vampires I saw as I walked up the four flights of stairs that led to our bedroom. Even though they weren’t on display like the various works of art in this house, Vlad had a lot of his people on guard here, and the ones I walked by bowed to me as I passed.

  I’d never get used to that, but I’d tried asking them to stop, and it was the only request of mine they didn’t obey. Many of them still considered Vlad their prince in addition to the master of their line. So, as his wife, I got bowed to the way they bowed to him, no matter my preference on the subject.

  I entered the midnight-green room that Vlad and I shared. I went right into the bathroom, ignoring the marble tub in favor of the large glass shower. I spent the next several minutes enjoying the hot water and the clean, herbal smells of the specially formulated shampoo, conditioner, and body wash I used.

  I was out of the shower and dressed in one of my favorite caftans when a metaphysical knife suddenly slashed me across the shoulder. Magic sucks! I thought, scowling at the crimson stain that instantly appeared on my dress. Figures I’d be wearing white when my batshit nephew-in-law decided to carve into me.

  Hello, Leila, said an all-too-familiar voice, his words slithering across my mind as if they were a snake.

  Hello, Mircea, I thought in reply, allowing my hatred of him to invade my mental voice. What an unpleasant surprise.

  I heard his laughter as if he were on the other end of a cell phone. In a way, he was, except this was a magical connection and I hadn’t figured out how to hang up on him yet.

  You didn’t miss me? he mocked. How strange. Most women do.

  Yes, Mircea was beautiful in a stop-and-stare way, complete with copper-colored eyes that had obviously run in the family. Mircea was Vlad’s nephew by blood and his stepson by marriage, thanks to Vlad’s second wife getting it on with Vlad’s brother, Radu. But Mircea was also as vicious as he was pretty. I had this tie to him after the most powerful of his magical attempts to murder me had backfired, linking us together in a way that no one seemed to know how to break.

  I heard about Branson, Mircea went on. Poor Leila, are you still trying to find me? Don’t you know that you won’t succeed?

  One day we will, I sent back, fighting a swell of frustration and bitterness.

  Vlad and I were forced to search for Mircea the normal way because he’d somehow managed to block me. I could link to anyone else if I had their essence imprint, but though Vlad had brought me artifact after artifact of Mircea’s, I was unable to link to him. He was either magically or psychically preventing me. If it was the former, I was screwed, so I chose to believe it was the latter. That way, I still had a chance that my powers would grow, and I’d beat him at his own psychic game.

  So naïve, Mircea said, ending his words with a tsking sound. I wonder how my father stands you.

  Stepfather, I corrected immediately. Or call him Uncle Drac if you must, but Vlad is not your father.

  Another mystical slash across my shoulders had me biting back a cry of pain. Wow, he’s sensitive about that, I realized, filing the information away for later. Good thing Mircea couldn’t hear my thoughts unless I deliberately directed them to him. Unfortunately, that meant I couldn’t hear his thoughts, either, or I might have learned where he was.

  Within moments, the pain faded and my skin knit itself back into smooth, unblemished flesh. That’s one of the reasons why I didn’t call out for help. Mircea could hurt me, yes, but there were limits on what he’d do. It wasn’t because he had a conscience; every injury he inflicted on me had to be carved into his own flesh first.

  That was the beauty—and the curse—of the spell that bound us together. It had forced Mircea to stop the suicide-inducing aspect of it so I no longer had the urge to chop off my own head. The flip side was, even if Vlad and I did find Mircea, we couldn’t kill him. Not without killing me, too.

  Seriously, what do you get out of our little talks? I went on, thanking God that Vlad lost his ability to read my mind as soon as I became a vampire. Otherwise, he’d overhear everything I was thinking, and know that Mircea was mentally messaging me as well as cutting into me.

  Perhaps I do it to find out why you mean so much to Vlad, he snapped. Thus far, it’s a mystery. You’re not as beautiful as his former lovers and you’re a damn sight less
intelligent.

  Must be my electric personality, then, I deadpanned, but inwardly, I was intrigued. Why did he keep logging on to my mind to talk to me? It couldn’t be just to trade insults. Sure, Mircea had only been in his late teens when he was turned into a vampire, but that was over five hundred years ago. More than that, Mircea was usually smug when he used our link for his mental and physical assaults. Now, he sounded upset. Maybe enough to lose his cool and reveal something critical for me to use against him?

  I pressed my advantage. This is the sixth time you’ve contacted me in the past four months. I used to think it was because you were testing our connection to make sure that the spell still bound us flesh to flesh and blood to blood, but you don’t need to talk me up to cut into me. Why do you keep doing it? Are you bored? Or are you just really, really lonely?

  I’ll show you why, he said with a snarl.

  I didn’t like the sound of that. Before I could reply, he said, What? in a surprised way, then abruptly dropped our link.

  “Damn you,” I muttered. Not that he could hear me anymore. I didn’t know how I could always tell when he was really gone, but it was as if a door closed in my mind.

  Didn’t matter, I decided. Mircea was probably bluffing on whatever he was about to “show” me. In any event, now I had to change clothes and destroy this bloody dress. If Vlad caught sight of it, it would enrage him, and he was wound up enough already.

  If I were the vindictive type like Mircea, I could get his attention back by cutting into him the same way he’d carved into me. But, even though my dress was already trashed, I didn’t do it. For one, I might be getting more vindictive by the day, but I wasn’t masochistic. Yet.

  I went into my bedroom closet. A few minutes later, I was deciding between a pale blue dress and a lavender one when a new pain erupted in my chest. Unlike before, this pain was so ferocious, I dropped to the floor. Once there, I found myself gasping for air I no longer needed. I recognized this kind of pain, and fear made me attempt to crawl to the door, but my limbs stopped working. All I could do was twitch in agony.

  This wasn’t Mircea hurting me for his usual cruel kicks. It was something far worse.

  Hollywood had it wrong when it came to vampires. You didn’t shove a wooden stake through their heart to kill one. That would only give those of my kind a nasty splinter and an even worse temper. Instead, you cut their head off, burned them into ashes, or destroyed their heart with silver. From what I was feeling, Mircea had just stabbed himself—and thus me—in the heart with a silver knife. The only reason we weren’t already dead was because Mircea hadn’t twisted the blade. Yet.

  Chapter 3

  I tried to call out to Vlad. He couldn’t do anything to stop this, but some desperate part of me needed to see him one last time. Yet all I could manage was a gasping whisper. Vlad might have supernatural hearing, but he was three floors below me and there was endless banging, clanging, and other noise from the construction on the mansion’s south wing.

  All I had was my mind, and though it felt almost as frozen as my limbs, I summoned the last of my strength to establish a link to him, then let out a mental shout.

  Vlad!

  A wave of energy filled the room, followed by a slew of emotions slamming into mine. That was more effective than a reply to let me know that he’d heard me. Moments later, I saw a tall, dark form moving with blurring speed toward me.

  “Leila.” He lifted me up, leaning in so close that his hair formed a blackish-brown veil around us. “What—?”

  He stopped when my arms fell away, revealing the bloody hole directly into my heart. A shockwave of emotion exploded from him, and the rebounding effects hit me with such force that I almost passed out.

  “No,” he said, anguish choking the word. “No!”

  His scream echoed through every part of me. Vlad clutched me while grief, panic, and despair howled through our bond. In the midst of the awful, clawing pain in my chest, I felt burning spots on my face that I didn’t understand until he drew away enough for me to see him.

  Pink lines streaked his face. They had to be tears, but I hadn’t known that Vlad was capable of crying. I also had never seen the tiny orange droplets that now beaded on his skin before burning my clothes and anything else they touched.

  He’s sweating fire, I realized, amazement threading through me even as death dragged me down farther into its grasp. I love you, I tried to say, but all that came out was a gasp.

  So I stared at him, trying to concentrate on his face instead of the awful coldness overwhelming me. I loved the dark stubble on his jaw, the winged black brows framing his coppery-green eyes, and his masculine yet sensual mouth. I loved his long dark hair and the scars covering his hands, and most of all, I loved his fierce, beautiful soul. I wished I could tell him all of that, but speech was beyond me.

  I love you, I thought again, trying to force the words into his mind. From the fresh wave of emotions that rolled over mine, he’d heard me. I love you, I repeated as my vision went black and everything else slipped away. Forever . . .

  All of a sudden, that excruciating coldness vanished. My limbs began to flop as if belatedly following the frantic instructions I’d given them before. Vlad jerked back, his grief turning to incredulous relief as we both watched new, healing skin cover over the deep, blade-shaped hole in my chest.

  Mircea must have pulled the knife out instead of twisting it. The knowledge that I wasn’t about to die filled me with such joy that I let out a choked laugh. Vlad shouted something in Romanian, then he kissed me, bruising my lips while more feelings tore through our connection.

  “I love you, too.” His voice vibrated as he broke away to press searing kisses all over my face. “Forever.” He kissed me again before stopping far too soon.

  “Get out,” he said in a very calm tone.

  The sound of rapidly retreating footsteps made me aware that we hadn’t been alone in the room. Right, Vlad’s people would’ve felt his emotions the same way I had, and just moments ago, he’d been a maelstrom of grief and panic. Not surprisingly, that must’ve sent several of them running to see what was wrong.

  Vlad’s relief continued to strafe my subconscious, yet now it was mixed with ever-growing fury. I felt him struggle to get control of it until he drew his inner shields up and blocked everything off. He let out a slow breath, and the droplets of flaming sweat that had burned little holes all over my dress disappeared from his skin. Yet his hands remained scorching hot as he reached out to touch my face.

  “That was close,” I said in a shaky voice.

  “Too close.”

  Even with the iron control he was exercising, he couldn’t keep the fury from his voice. I’d be furious at Mircea later, too, but at the moment, I was too grateful to be alive to be mad at the viciousness of his last attack.

  Vlad’s shields were up, yet I didn’t need our tie to know that he was still ping-ponging between relief and killing rage. Waves of energy kept spilling from him, and his scent changed from smoky cinnamon to something that smelled more like a forest fire. I was concerned that he was on the verge of spontaneously combusting. While that was normally a figure of speech, he was a centuries-old pyrokinetic vampire with staggering abilities and an equally impressive temper, so for Vlad, that was a real possibility.

  “You need to power down,” I said. “You leveled this house once, and you just finished putting in the new fourth floor.”

  His quick smile smoothed some of the harshness from his face, but I knew better than to believe the crisis was over.

  “Vlad,” I began again.

  “I’m fine, but you’re too weak to keep talking,” he said.

  I would’ve argued, but I felt almost as tired as I’d been when I was a brand-new vampire and the sunrise rendered me unconscious. That’s why I didn’t protest when he carried me to the bed, barking out an order in Romanian at the same time.

  Somewhere down the hall, I heard footsteps scurry to obey. Vlad had ordered his
people out of our room, but they obviously hadn’t gone far. By the time he’d set me down on the bed and smoothed my hair away from my face, the captain of Vlad’s guard, Samir, had already returned with three bags full of blood.

  I flashed a limp smile of thanks at Samir. He and I had gotten to be friends over the past several months. When I bit into the first bag, that red liquid hit my veins like a jolt of pure caffeine, reviving my strength and making me feel merely half dead instead of circling the grave like I had before. The second bag was even better, chasing the lingering haziness from my mind. After the third, I felt almost normal again.

  Vlad stared at me, green flaring around the rich copper shade of his irises. “Better?”

  I nodded, leaning back against the pillows. Vlad turned to Samir. “Check all the perimeter sensors, then double the guards. This might have been used as a tactical distraction.”

  Samir bowed smartly and left, taking the rest of Vlad’s people with them. I heard Samir order three to stay on this floor, however, and I looked at Vlad with fresh alarm.

  “You think someone’s about to attack?”

  Vlad’s mouth twisted in a humorless smile. “Probably not. If that was the goal, they would’ve struck when I was consumed with worry over you. Still, no need to neglect due diligence.”

  Then he touched the bloodstained smear over my chest. An electric current slid into him with the contact, and I marveled at how weak it felt. Being that close to death must have drained me more than the lightning rods I normally used to offload my excess kinetic energy. Vlad’s gaze moved to the other bloody stains on my dress. His expression darkened, and when his eyes met mine, new fury burned in their depths.

  I tried to head off the inevitable fight. “Vlad, I was just about to tell you about that—”

  “How long was Mircea cutting into you before you called out to me?” he interrupted.