Blood Price (3 page)

Atar slumped forward and his body fell on hers. With effort, she pushed him up and slipped off the bed, lowering him carefully and positioning his head on the pillow. His shoulder lay on his long hair, bending his neck awkwardly. She knew he would awaken in pain if she left him like that, so she moved the strands to flow down his back. As she did so, the column of his throat caught her attention again.

She moaned with hunger when the steady thump of his carotid artery beckoned to her. She could almost hear his heartbeat thundering in her ears. A compulsion she couldn’t fight had her lowering her head. She traced her tongue down the vein and a shudder of bliss racked her body. He murmured something in his sleep and it seemed to be a sound of pleasure.

There was a shift behind her eyes and she sensed a curtain descending. Nikia blinked, trying to resist the commands suddenly pounding through her, ordering her to bite him. Before she could stop herself, her bloodteeth extended and one penetrated his artery. It was only a tiny nick but a rivulet of crimson oozed down his neck. Her tongue flicked out and she arrested it in mid-flow.

Nikia hissed and backed away so quickly she fell onto the other bed. His blood was too sweet, too intoxicating. Indulging would be madness, as she would likely end up passed out on top of him. When he awoke soon, he would find recapturing her an easy task, should she drink from him.

She got to her feet, shaking her head to dispel the thirst for his blood. Never had she tasted anything so delicious. He definitely wasn’t human, as he had said. She wondered what else was different about him but didn’t have time to indulge her curiosity.

Her list of violations against Atar grew to include robbery when she rummaged through his small suitcase and appropriated a button-down navy-blue shirt. When she put it over the scrub top and buttoned it to mid-chest, it hid the utilitarian design of the hospital shirt, making it look like a plain cotton top. It would help her blend in better.

She rifled deeper through his luggage, pausing to borrow his brush. Her hair was so short that it took little effort to restore it to order when she stepped up to the mirror hanging above the bed. She touched it with wonder, seeing it for the first time closely. She hadn’t had time to properly examine her appearance in the past few days. The shortness was a shock, as Illiana had always kept her hair long but she liked the sassiness of it.

With a wry grin, acknowledging she felt anything but sassy, Nikia turned back to the case she had opened on the spare bed, returned his brush and reluctantly took several Euros from the roll Atar had secreted at the bottom of the case, under a stack of tiny black briefs. She hated to take anything else from him but he had plenty of money left and she had no other way to secure a flight to Zurich. If she had, she wouldn’t have spent the last three days hiding in Constanta.

She tucked the Euros in the pocket of his shirt she had taken, closed his case and walked over to him. She brushed the hair off his forehead and leaned down to kiss his cheek. She felt a mix of guilt and tenderness for the man. It was complicated but she didn’t have time to sort out her emotions right then. Besides, if she ever saw him again, she would have another opportunity to clarify her feelings—assuming he didn’t immediately capture her, sedate her and ship her back to Corsova in an unconscious state.

Without looking back, she left the hotel room and walked down the flight of stairs. The streets were quiet and her chances of catching a cab were slim at this hour. With an air of determination, she slipped down the small alley, heading toward the next main street. She froze at the scrape of footsteps behind her. Nikia’s first thought was Atar had awakened but when she whirled around, with an idiotic apology on the tip of her tongue, she saw a young man standing behind her instead.

He wore a frayed denim jacket and faded jeans. His eyes glittered with interest, as he looked her up and down. He held one hand at his side, almost hiding the switchblade in his hand.

She tensed, feeling a stir of fear. Before her coma, she wouldn’t have been frightened of a human, even one with a knife, but she hadn’t received blood in a long time and her body was weak from the coma and lack of blood. The tiny sip of Atar’s had only served to make her more lightheaded.

He darted toward her but moved too slowly. Nikia’s confidence returned and she sidestepped him, grabbing his arm as he flew past her. She arrested his off-balance, face-first trip toward the cobblestone, pushing him to his knees. He grunted with outrage and tried to slash her with the knife but she intercepted his wrist, squeezing hard enough to hear the bones grind together. The switchblade fell to the stones with a clatter.

Hunger overpowered her and Nikia bent the man lower, exposing the back and side of his neck. She buried her face against his skin, ignoring his stench of cigarettes and unwashed body. Her incisors extended and she punctured a vein, groaning with pleasure when warm blood flooded her mouth.

The would-be mugger tried to throw her off but Nikia held him easily, feeling strength flow into her as his blood filled her mouth. Her entire body tingled with awakening as his lifeblood restored some of her health. It was a struggle to pull away without draining him dry. Illiana’s strident voice in her head made the task more difficult, as it urged her to keep drinking.

The man collapsed on the cobblestone, groaning. Nikia paused to check his pulse, finding it slow, but steady. She got to her feet, kicked aside his knife and hurried on her way, anxious to get to the airport before Atar awakened and picked up her trail. She could lose him once she left Constanta. She doubted he could sustain his ability to link with her once she put several hundred miles between them. After she emptied the account in Zurich, she would worry about the future. Her first priority was evading Atar and her second was banishing Illiana’s dark presence from her mind permanently.

Chapter 3

She sailed through the airport at Constanta, finding it relatively easy to convince the girl behind the computer that her name was Margaret Black and she had already produced her passport. If anyone questioned the young woman later, she would remember Margaret Black as a middle-aged woman with salt-and-pepper hair, carrying an extra forty pounds.

She was lucky to find a flight with only one connection to Zurich leaving in forty minutes. She spent that time looking over her shoulder, searching for Atar but once she boarded the plane and it lifted off, she was considerably more relaxed.

By the time she landed in Zurich a few hours later, she had almost convinced herself the tracker wouldn’t be able to catch her trail again. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t be cautious. She looked over her shoulder all throughout the time she spent moving through the terminal. It was a relief to be moving and get outside, although the sense of safety in movement was little more than an illusion. She lifted her arm to hail a taxi and a black sedan pulled up to her right away. She opened the door and slid inside. After settling into the backseat, she leaned forward to speak to the driver. “Stoller-Zurich Hotel, please.” She started to lean back into the seat but paused. “Don’t take the most direct route. Circle around a bit and please let me know if you think we’re being followed.”

The woman driving the cab lifted a dark brow but made no comment about Nikia’s request. With a brisk nod, she set the car in motion.

Nikia dared to relax against the seat. She closed her eyes and tried to distance herself from the throbbing pain in her head. When she felt rested, it was easier to ignore the pain and to fight Illiana’s attempts to regain control. But as hours passed and the pain hammered at her incessantly, her control started slipping. She needed to regain her strength to continue fending off Illiana, which meant she had to take the time to rest, even if it gave her pursuer a chance to catch up with her.

She must have dozed because she had a moment of disorientation upon opening her eyes, when the driver spoke sometime later with a thick accent. “
Fräulein
, we are here.”

She nodded and fished in her purse for a stack of Euros to cover the fare and a tip. Then she slid from the car, glad she wasn’t hampered by luggage as she made her way inside the white, multi-story hotel. The lobby was warm and welcoming, with richly shining wood, a huge bouquet of daffodils and a smiling young woman in a crisp suit, bearing a discreet tag that proclaimed she was a Guest Services Manager and her name was Elga.

Nikia glanced over her shoulder but wasn’t looking for Atar this time. Instead, she was gauging the distance of others in the lobby to herself and Elga. Assured they were far enough back, she caught the gaze of the girl, whispering, “I want my usual non-smoking room. You don’t need my credit card or identification. I am Margaret Black, and you know me well.”

Elga had a dazed expression when she nodded. Her smile was dreamy and her eyes were slightly out of focus. “Of course, Mrs. Black. It’s always a pleasure to have you stay with us at Stoller.” Her fingers clicked on the keyboard and she smiled. “Your room is available.”

“Thank you.” Nikia paid quickly and took the keycard Elga gave her.

“The breakfast buffet is still open, Mrs. Black. As you know, we have an excellent selection, including smoked salmon and champagne.”

Nikia nodded, finding it difficult to function under the throbbing pain. “Thank you, but I believe I’ll go straight up. I had a night flight.”

“Of course.”

Before the girl could ask about luggage, Nikia turned and hurried through the lobby, taking the nearest elevator up to the fifth floor. There were no other guests in the corridor when she walked to her room. She slid the card in the slot and slipped inside, sagging against the door once it had closed and locked behind her. Her knees trembled and her stomach churned with nausea.

She gave the room little more than a cursory examination, taking in the honey-blond furniture, oval mirror and desk built into the wall. It was familiar to her, as she had stayed here once before, in this very room. Slowly, she made her way to the bed, dropping onto it face-first, without bothering to remove the clothes she wore. They were starting to stink but she was beyond caring. The pounding in her head made it impossible to concentrate on anything. Were she in control, she would have skipped the stay at Stoller, gone straight to the Cantonal Bank of Zurich, made her withdrawal and gotten on the next flight to anywhere. But in her weakened state, she had to rest or risk allowing Illiana to regain possession.

She closed her eyes, burying her face in the pillow. She rubbed her cheek against the soft cotton pillowcase, feeling the first vestiges of tension draining away. The faint scent of lavender covered the odor of the clothes, while lulling her into a twilight state. Soon, her breathing deepened and she slept in a dreamless state.

* * * * *

It was several hours later when she opened her eyes. She knew the morning had waned by the position of the sun coming through the blinds, right across her eyes. She sat up, cradling her head. The ever-present ache was there but had subdued to a manageable level again. With cautious movements, she got up from the bed and padded into the bathroom, where she stripped off the filthy clothes and got under the shower, letting the hot water sluice her body from head to foot.

When her skin wrinkled, she finally forced herself from the cubicle, knowing time was wasting. Eyeing the clothes with distaste, Nikia decided she simply couldn’t force her body back into them. Instead, she slipped on a toweling robe and walked into the main room, to the phone. The front desk answered quickly and the young man seemed unfazed by her request for a local boutique to send an assorted selection to her room.

She also ordered room service. When the first knock came, she was cautious about opening the door, with the fear of Atar catching up with her lingering at the back of her mind. It proved to be her food and she had almost finished with it by the time a second knock sounded. This time, it was a sales attendant from a nearby boutique, bearing a rolling rack of clothing.

The process went quickly and Nikia made several selections, which the clerk stored in a garment bag, in lieu of a suitcase. Once she paid the woman and saw her out, Nikia dressed quickly in linen slacks and a red silk shirt. She put on a large straw hat with a red scarf and left the room with the garment bag, not intending to return to the hotel.

She exited the lobby and crossed the street, darting between the cars, to the imposing building housing the Cantonal Bank of Zurich. Inside the bank, a middle-aged man in a dark suit greeted her before she had a chance to let the inner doors close completely behind her.

“How may I assist you,
Fräulein
?”

“I would like to close my account.”

He didn’t betray any emotion at her request. “Follow me, please.” Nikia walked behind him to his office, which was actually a glass cubicle in the corner of the room. She sank into the overstuffed beige armchair in front of his massive steel and glass desk.

He slid a pad of paper to her, along with a heavy gold and black pen. “I’ll need your account number.”

“Of course.” Nikia lifted the pen and wrote the number, hoping she recalled it correctly from memory. She held her breath as he entered it into the system, waiting to see if it would work. Her stiff shoulders relaxed when he nodded.

“How would you like the funds? Do you have another account to wire the balance to?”

She shook her head. “No. I would like it in Euros.”

He lifted a brow. “That is a lot of currency to carry around. Are you certain you wouldn’t prefer—”

“I’m sure.” She only hoped she would have time to make currency conversions, should the need arise. She couldn’t plan ahead well enough to anticipate what currencies she might need, since she had no idea where her travels would take her.

He seemed unhappy with her decision but didn’t try to change her mind. He left the cubicle, presumably to collect the funds, and returned a short time later with a large manila envelope.

Nikia took it from him and examined the contents. She didn’t take the time to count the money but judged it the right amount from the tightly bound stacks of large bills. “I would also like to access my safety-deposit box.”

He lifted his phone, dialed a three-digit extension and spoke rapidly in German to the person on the other end. When he hung up, he said, “Ona will assist you.”

As he spoke her name, the woman appeared. She was around Nikia’s age, with flawless pale skin, whitish-blonde hair and cheekbones that looked sharp enough to cut.

Nikia clutched the envelope against her chest and followed the woman to the elevator. Once before, she had made this trip but it had been years ago, when Illiana decided it might be prudent to have a means of escape to fall back on, should her plans to depose Valdemeer backfire. Nikia’s memory of the route was hazy, as was her memory of the procedure for accessing a safety-deposit box.

On the third floor, they entered a room that bore a strong resemblance to a vault. An armed guard with gleaming ebony skin nodded to Ona. Together, they accessed the lock on Nikia’s box, since she didn’t have the key with her. They turned their keys simultaneously and the door hiding the box sprang open. Ona removed it and carried it out of the room, with Nikia trailing behind.

She didn’t have to ask for privacy. Ona led her to a small room and slipped out, saying, “Please notify the guard when you’ve finished.”

As soon as she closed the door, Nikia opened the box and removed the identification inside. Her hand stilled when she discovered a heart-shaped emerald pendant hanging from a silver chain. She had forgotten about the necklace, but touching it brought back memories of its origins. She had never known Elsa, Illiana’s mother but knew Illiana remembered her with a combination of fear and warmth. The pendant had been a gift given on Illiana’s thirteenth birthday, just days before Elsa murdered her father and killed herself.

Nikia stroked the gem and it tingled with power. It was beautiful and she reached out for it. About to fasten it around her neck, she sensed a sudden increase in Illiana’s influence. With a small cry, she flung it from her. The necklace skimmed across the Formica table and fell to the carpet without a sound. It no longer appeared beautiful. Now, it took on a sinister appearance.

She closed the empty box and opened the door, not attempting to retrieve the necklace. She refused to touch it again. She must always remember her mother’s people were powerful and Illiana knew most of their ways. She was also ruthless. She would do anything to regain control of Nikia’s body.

She nodded to the guard on her way out and returned to the elevator, where she tucked the IDs into the envelope. When the elevator opened on the ground floor, she left the bank without anyone stopping her. Near the second set of glass doors that led to the outside, she froze, clutching the bar in a death grip. Her eyes locked on the flash of dirty-blond hair that had caught her attention. She searched in the crowd milling along the sidewalk, convinced Atar was out there.

She scanned the street and her gaze alighted on a taxi parked against the curb. She saw two men in suits hurrying toward it and knew she had to move. With a deep breath, she pushed against the door and rushed into the crowd, running from the second her feet hit the cement and making it to the door of the taxi just before the men.

One of the men cursed and reached out to touch her arm. Nikia turned on him, hissing. He flinched and she wondered what he had seen in her eyes that frightened him so much that he backed away quickly enough to stumble. She didn’t want to think about it and she didn’t have time to anyway. She slipped into the back and slammed the door just as Atar emerged from the crowd. “Go,” she shouted, and her voice echoed around the small confines of the car, causing both she and the driver to wince.

“Where,
Fräulein
?”

“Anywhere. Just move.” Her eyes locked with Atar’s as the car pulled away from the curb. She saw the frustration and anger in his eyes before the car outdistanced him. She trembled, knowing he wouldn’t give up.

“Where are we going?”

“I need to get out of Zurich. What’s the fastest way?”

He cocked his head. “You could take a train from Main Station. It’s just a couple of kilometers from here.”

“That’s fine.” Nikia couldn’t relax as the driver wove through traffic, into the heart of Central Zurich. He followed the curve of the circular street around Limmat River, which separated them from the train station. She fought the mad urge to throw herself from the back of the car and swim across the river in hopes of shaving a few minutes off her escape. It seemed to take forever for the driver to reach the west side of the station and he got in the line of cars waiting to expel their passengers at the arched entrance of the light-brown brick building. Nikia grasped her garment bag and tossed a handful of Euros onto the front seat. “I’ll get out here.” She didn’t wait for a response as she got out of the car and rushed down the sidewalk to the entrance. She spared a scant glance for the monument in front of the station but took no time to examine the statues. Nor did she pay much attention to the statues adorning the roof when she rushed inside. She skidded to a halt, trying to get her bearings.

People milled around the station, darting in and out of various arched entryways. Several had clustered under the timetable but Nikia didn’t pause to study it. She didn’t have the luxury of choosing a specific destination. She would take whatever was available and leaving immediately because Atar couldn’t be far behind.

She bypassed the stairs that would take her to the second level and went to the ticket counters. A harried-looking woman with a large mole above the left side of her mouth gestured her forward. She went to the window, still glancing behind her.

“Destination?” she asked in German.

“What’s leaving right away?”

The woman glanced at her computer. “There’s a train leaving for Milan on Platform 21.”

Nikia nodded. “That’s fine.” She took out her identification in the name of Nicole Desmarteau and enough Euros to cover her ticket. She drummed her fingers impatiently against the counter while the clerk processed her ticket. The woman sniffed her disapproval and seemed to be making the transaction her life’s work. Nikia snatched up the printed ticket as soon as the woman slid it through the window and darted into the crowd.

There was a map of the train station on the back of the ticket that allowed Nikia to navigate through the crowd and arrive at Platform 21, where a large group stood, with several people streaming onto the train. She pushed between an embracing couple to board the train, taking a window seat facing the platform so she could see who was approaching.

The train whistled just as Atar came into her view. Nikia’s breath caught in her throat and she tightened her hands around the bag draped over her lap, preparing for him to board and force her off. She was determined to scream and draw as much attention as possible but didn’t hold much hope for help from authorities. He no doubt possessed extradition papers and as soon as they realized her identity was false, the police would hand her over to him.

Maybe luck was with her because the train eased forward. She closed her eyes, daring to hope it was too late for him to board. She opened them again quickly, knowing she had to keep him in sight. Her heart leaped when a uniformed employee stopped Atar as he tried to board. The train picked up speed while he argued with the man and she let her stiff posture relax slightly.

When he shook his head and turned away, she dared to breathe again. For now, she had a reprieve. The train gained momentum and she laid her head against the thickly padded seat, allowing the tension in her nerves to dissipate. She had evaded him again.

But for how long? He would keep coming. Crazy as it sounded, he must have some sort of mental fix on her as he had claimed to be able to keep finding her. Wherever she went, she wouldn’t be able to escape him.

She didn’t think geographic distance posed a problem for his ability, so even fleeing to America or Australia wouldn’t stop him from coming for her. She would spend the rest of her life on the run. If he stopped pursuing her, Anca would send someone else. She was convinced Nikia was a threat.

The pounding in her head made her acknowledge she was. Her control was tenuous and she feared Illiana would eventually overpower her again. When her mother’s mind obliterated her own, she would be dangerous once more.

She bit back a hysterical laugh. She was the only thing standing between Illiana and her quest for power. With her fledgling strength and inability to withstand the migraines for more than a few hours at a time, what chance did she have? She should return to Corsova and let Anca deal with the situation, even if it meant her death.

Tears burned her eyes when she contemplated that course of action. It would be for the best, perhaps, but she couldn’t do it. Not yet. She had barely had any time to experience life. It wasn’t fair to expect her to voluntarily surrender her body just yet, even to stop her mother. She would later, if she couldn’t control Illiana any longer.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. She had no way of knowing when Illiana would overwhelm her. Unless she could eradicate all traces of her mother, she had to return to Corsova while still lucid.

Nikia’s eyes snapped open when she experienced a glimmer of hope. Perhaps the answer rested with her grandmother’s people, in Minsk. If anyone would know how to banish Illiana, surely someone there would. They would help her. They had to.

Just having a plan filled Nikia with a sense of peace and she was able to relax completely. She closed her eyes and dozed during the train ride from Zurich to Milan, vaguely planning how she would evade Atar long enough to catch a flight to Minsk. She must have a few hours on him, so she would be able to go to the airport, buy a ticket and be in Belarus before he could orient himself to her position. Once the threat of Illiana was removed, she would have no reason to fear returning to Corsova. Surely, Anca would give her the benefit of doubt if she returned voluntarily with an account of her mother’s possession and subsequent vanquishing.