Between a Vamp and a Hard Place (20 page)

“Now that is just sad.”

I struggled to sit up. This had to be Guy. “S-stay away from me.”

“Right.” His voice was smooth and lightly accented, and familiar. It was the voice from the phone. “Do me a favor and try not to break anything else with your head, will you? And shut that window. I don't want any birds flying in.” When I didn't move, he sighed. “Come on, then. We both know you're not going to take me down with your superb fighting skills. You can't even sneak into a house.” He gestured at the doorway, as if I'd been a guest. “You want to see your friend, right?”

G
uy kept his hand on my elbow as he led me into his living room. “Would you like a cup of hot tea?”

Would I
what
? I stared at him as he ushered me forward. Offering me tea when he should have been ready to rip my throat out? “I—I don't think—”

“Lindsey!” Gemma's happy voice cut through my confused thoughts. “Oh my God, wow! It's so fucking good to see you!”

“Language,” Guy warned.

“Sorry, of course,” Gemma said in her sweetest voice. She was seated in a parlor chair near the fire. A bit of embroidery was in her lap, and she was wearing a long dress instead of the jeans she normally lived in. But she looked healthy, and she smiled at me when I entered. I wanted to weep with relief.

“Gemma,” I breathed. “Oh my gosh, are you all right?”

“Of course I'm all right,” she chirped. “And did you mention tea, sweetie? I'd love some, too.”

Guy gestured that I should sit in the chair across from Gemma, and I did, dazed. My cheek throbbed from my fall, and maybe it was affecting my brain, because all of this seemed really damn confusing to me. I watched as Guy headed to the far side of the living room and crossed into a nearby room, presumably the kitchen. Was he really going to make us tea?

The moment he left, Gemma grabbed my knee. I looked over at her in time to see her twirl a finger near her ear and mouth the word
crazy.
“Just go along with whatever he says,” she whispered to me, then straightened in her chair and began to poke at her embroidery again.

Embroidery? Gemma? It looked like she was doing nothing more than doodling stick figures on the fabric, but I did have to admit that she looked perfectly ladylike. “What—”

She kicked me. Didn't even look up. Just kicked me and made a soft noise that said,
Talk later
.

I shut up. So much for ladylike.

Guy returned a moment later with two dainty china cups of tea. He handed me one, and Gemma the other. She thanked him with a sweet smile, then promptly put it to the side, shooting me a look. Right. Even I grasped that. Don't drink. I held the cup in my hands and watched as Guy pulled a stool up and sat near us.

“So tell me,” Guy said. “To what do I owe the dubious honor of your presence?”

I blinked, trying to think of something clever yet un-accusing to say. I had nothing. “I came to rescue Gemma,” I said, deciding to go with the truth.

“Commendable,” he said, smiling over at Gemma. She returned the smile, a little too brightly. Then he looked over at me again. “You do realize she was safe with me all this time, yes?”

“Because you want to exchange her for Rand?”

“That,” he agreed with a slight inclination of his head, “and she is A positive.”

I stared at him blankly. “Huh?”

“Blood type A positive,” Gemma said helpfully. “Apparently it's not a favorite of vampires. Remember how Rand said I'd taste terrible? There you go!”

“Ah,” I said. Because this was the weirdest conversation. I twisted my ID bracelet, knowing that it showed that I was actually Hh—Bombay blood—and super-rare. If he found out about my rare blood, it might make me even more attractive to the vampire.

“Gemma has been a true model of a prisoner,” Guy said. “Once we gave her the appropriate clothing and coached her on her speaking, she's been a joy to have around.” He gave Gemma a pleasant look, and she beamed at him, then stabbed her needle into her embroidery again. His gaze swiveled back to me, his eyes lighting with interest. “I do see why Rand has taken such interest in you, though.”

I squeezed the teacup in my hands. “You do?”

“Mmm,” he said, and leaned in toward me. I scooted backward, but I could only go so far. Pinned between the chair and the vampire, I watched, horrified, as he took a long, languid sniff, so close that I could see his pores. Alarm pounded through me. Was he going to smell the garlic I'd ingested and take that as an attack against him? But he only smiled, his eyes thin slits of amusement. “AB negative?”

Oh. “My blood type?”

He nodded. “A rare and delicious vintage. You smell different, though. Sweeter.”

My skin prickled. “I'm actually something called Hh. No antigens or something. It's called Bombay blood. Only sixty people in the world have it.” God, why was I telling him this? He had to be using compulsion on me to make me confess. Now he'd want to taste me for sure.

“Ahhhh. Rarer than even the rarest of vintages. No wonder you smell so decadent.” He smiled even broader, and I saw a hint of fangs. “It makes a man completely forget himself.”

Oh dear. My teacup trembled a bit on its plate.

“Why don't you set that next to my drink?” Gemma offered, reaching over and taking it from my hands. I shot her a grateful look. “She's some weird rare blood, yes,” Gemma told him. “But as for Rand, they don't get along. Why, just the other day—”

“Silence,” Guy hissed, and Gemma's mouth snapped shut, her face going pale. He turned back to me. “Do I look stupid to you?”

Was this a trick question? I said nothing, my eyes wide.

He pointed downward, his finger digging into my thigh. “I know you are with Rand. I spoke to both of you less than a week ago. I am not a fool. No doubt he is even now distracting my guardsmen so you can come here and free your friend. I bet he did not expect you to be so incompetent, did he?”

No, he probably didn't. “W-what are you going to do with us?”

Guy leaned back, and for a moment, he wore the same sad expression that Rand often wore. “You assume the worst of me, do you not? Is your friend not safe after spending time in my company?” He gestured at Gemma. Frightened, embroidering Gemma.

“Perfectly safe,” I whispered.

“I know Rand will come for you,” Guy stated. He studied me thoughtfully. “If I had a blood vassal such as you, I would come for you as well. Not this one.” He flicked a dismissive hand at Gemma. “A pretty face is easier to find than a pleasant taste.”

Gemma's smile remained frozen.

I wanted to punch him. How dare he insult Gemma, who was sweet, outgoing, and kind, all because of her blood type? What a dick. “I don't let Rand drink from me,” I told him.

“Then he's a fool.”

“I guess he is, because I'm not his personal keg,” I shot back.

“No, but you could be mine for the short time I have you,” he murmured, and put a hand on my knee.

I pushed it away.

“We both know Rand is coming.”

“You said that already.”

Guy's smile was wry, lightly mocking. He sat straight and shrugged. “I can predict how this will all play out tonight. I knew he would not be able to wait the week. I knew he would never turn himself over to me.” He gestured. “We are all puppets in a larger game. You. Me. Rand.”

“Puppets?”

“Who do you truly think wants Rand dead, little girl?” Guy's look was sardonic. “Who else is intimately aware of his return after six hundred years of silence? Do you think I care whether or not my brother in arms has returned? Do you think I care so much that I will bring him to my home, my sanctuary, over one disposable human woman, all so I can wag a finger in his face before destroying him? After riding with him for two hundred years? Do you think it was my idea to kill William and Frederic?” His smile twisted into something ugly. “Do you think I have any control over any of this, at all?”

“It's the Dragon, isn't it?” I whispered. “The Dragon wants him dead.” Because only the Dragon could give him release. Or death. Or a burrito. Or whatever Google Translate had come up with.

Guy gave a small nod, indicating I was correct. “The Dragon has decided that we are all expendable. Six hundred years ago, Rand showed stirrings of discontent, so the Dragon bade me get rid of him.”

I bit back my gasp. Why was I surprised? I'd guessed as much myself, though I'd hoped that Guy was acting on his own and not at the behest of their mysterious overlord.

“And when Frederic and William showed their unhappiness, I took them out as well. It is not a task I have relished,” he said, his face unspeakably sad again. “I am a coward. I've bought myself time with theirs. And I'd hoped that I could continue to live quietly, away from the Dragon's schemes. Perhaps, eventually, he would forget me. He has many vassals, after all. What is one more?” His smile twisted. “But Rand's return put us both on the Dragon's radar again. And do you know what he wants now?”

“He wants you to kill Rand? Again?”

Guy's eyes narrowed. Then he smiled brilliantly, which made my skin crawl just a little. “Flattering. You do not know that Rand was a genius on the battlefield, I suppose. There were none that could stand before his sword. Even Frederic, William, and I learned from him. Some men are born with innate talent, and Rand's is that of war. No, the Dragon has asked me to take care of Rand, but we both know that I will not survive if it comes down to a confrontation, as it must. The Dragon plays me as much as he plays Rand.”

“You know you're going to die?”

“After so many years? I welcome it. I have outlived or executed all of my friends. Even those I have surrounded myself with are mere sycophants. Even my thoughts are not my own, because they are polluted with the Dragon's touch. I am ready to die, to see what lies beyond all this.” He gestured at his cozy living room, the fire flickering with warmth. “And Rand will be the one to do it. It's fitting, I suppose. And then we will all be wiped from this earth.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean?”

Guy smiled, again his expression going sad. “You cannot guess? Rand will no longer wish to live under the control of the Dragon. He will destroy me, and then he will go after the Dragon, since it is he who instigated this. And either way, he is doomed.”

“But you just said yourself that Rand is a great warrior. He might beat the Dragon,” I protested. “He can win.” I looked over at Gemma, and she had a patient look on her face, as if to say,
See? Crazy.

Guy shook his head. “He can win, yes, but you do realize the only thing that keeps Rand alive is his blood bond to the Dragon? If he kills me—and he will—all my vassals, my vampires alive by their bond to me, will become no more. I will no longer be there to sustain the link. What do you think will happen to Rand if he destroys the Dragon?”

My entire body felt cold with realization. “This is a suicide mission, then.”

“It is,” Guy agreed. “And Rand knows it. He's always known it, I imagine. He doesn't plan on coming out of this alive.”

I
hugged my arms as I sat in the chair, waiting. Nearby, Guy paced. Gemma kept picking at her embroidery. No one was speaking.

I'd called Rand's phone to give the “emergency” signal. Now we were all just waiting for him to appear so something—anything—would happen. I peeked over at Guy. He wasn't even trying to set up a war of any kind. There were no reinforcements, no bodyguards, nothing. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back and walked slowly around his room, muttering to himself and gazing at the oil paintings on the walls. Maybe they were the old-fashioned version of a photo album and he was making his peace with his life. I pressed my ankle against one of the stakes in my boot. I wondered if I should attempt it, or if I should wait and let Rand handle things.

Did it even matter if I took Guy down or not? It wouldn't solve anything. Rand would still continue his mission to kill the Dragon.

And then he would die. Him and the Dragon both.

Probably. Theoretically.

The thought made me sick.

I began to get worried about the late hour when there came a knock at the door. Well, less of a knock and more of a demanding thump.

My head shot up. I looked over at Guy, who had stiffened. Gemma kept sewing. I moved to the edge of my chair, anxious. What now?

I half expected Guy to force me to open the door. Or Gemma. Or to ignore it entirely. After all, a vampire couldn't cross a threshold without permission. Rand could not get to Guy as long as Guy was on this side of the door. But as I watched, Guy straightened his shoulders, rising to his full height, and approached the door. He threw it open.

Rand was on the other side. His shoulders were hunched, heaving. His hair was a sweaty, filthy mess atop his head. Blood and mud spattered his form, and there were gouges on one cheek. His sword was clenched in his hand. He truly looked like the warlord of the past that he was. I gasped at the sight of him.

“Well, well, well,” Guy said, tilting his head. “Isn't this a pleasant surprise.” His tone was flat, indicating it was anything but.

“Invite me in,” Rand said gruffly. His gaze flicked to me, then back to Guy. “You have what is mine.”

“So polite,” Guy murmured. “After all these years. My, my. Just look at you. You don't look a day over six hundred.” His mouth curved into a thin smile. “Never thought I'd see you again.”

“Do not toy with me, Guy,” Rand said. His fangs bared in a snarl. “I am in no mood, and you have no vassals left to guard you. I have made certain of that.”

“They were weak,” Guy said with an insouciant roll of his shoulders. “If they cannot beat you by sheer numbers, it is better I have none at all rather than a flock of incompetent fools at my beck and call.”