Eternal (23 page)

Badass fur ball with a conscience. I like it.

We make an adjustment in the flamethrower team — Kyle volunteered, but he has a messed-up shoulder. And I relay what Father Ramos told me about working the things.

I’m still trying to figure out what to do with the boy who can’t run. If I could somehow sneak him and his sister to the cottage, maybe I could hide them there until Drac’s out of the way. Maybe.

I walk with Brenek toward the entrance of the tunnel. He’ll be leading the charge.

As I turn to wish him luck, I hear Nora’s voice. “Welcome home, Zachary. Her Highness hasn’t been the same without you.”

Busted. Laurie is standing with her. I don’t blame the chauffeur for turning me in. Her life’s on the line after all. Both of their lives are.

They’re not vampires. Brenek and I could take them, not that I can imagine it going that way. But the problem is bigger than them. They’ve no doubt alerted the sentries of the escapees. We’re screwed.

“You’ll never make it to the front gate on foot,” Nora says. “Not all of you.”

Laurie raises her chin. It’s the most empowered I’ve seen her, and it sucks that the sudden burst of self-esteem has to come from this.

Then she and Nora open fists overflowing with keys, each marked with the number of a corresponding parking spot.

Laurie adds, “But it’s only three minutes to the garage.”

The keys go fast. The prisoners with flamethrowers look eager to do damage. The boy who can’t walk climbs to ride piggyback on one of the sturdier guys.

Brenek retracts his shift enough to speak. “Some of us want to stay and fight.”

“Get the weaker ones to safety,” I say. “They’re more important.”

It’s clear that Brenek doesn’t like having to choose. But he knows I’m right.

“About that whole ‘God-damn-you’ thing,” he says, taking point.

“Don’t sweat it,” I reply with a grin.

“We best get a move on, too,” Nora says. “Let’s go, boy!”

“What?” I ask as the group files out.

“The master will know we had a hand in this,” she explains. “Freddy just called to tell me he’s back in town. We’ve done all we can here, and we don’t have much time.”

“We’ll take my Bug,” Laurie adds.

I hear a sentry howl, alerting the others of the breakout. Snarls and barking follow. I glance over my shoulder. “You two go! There’s something else I have to do.”

In the distance, Brenek roars. A yelp tells us he’s landed a blow.

“If you’re staying, I’m staying,” Nora declares. “You may need my help. Laurie, go ahead and take off without us.”

“But —”

“But nothing,” Nora says. “I’m not sure that enough of those kids know how to drive.”

I didn’t think of that, and apparently, neither did Laurie. She scoots out at the end of the line.

It’s going to be a long night. But at least this part of the mission looks like a success. All the prisoners are on their way. And now I have an ally in Nora.

I don’t get a chance to savor the moment.

“Feeling good about yourself, aren’t you?” Harrison asks. His hand rests on Nora’s shoulder, friendly-like.

With his new speed, I never even saw him coming. The human Harrison would never hurt Nora. With this Harrison, I can’t be sure. My gut says he’s bluffing. But vamps are unpredictable. Miranda is proof of that. So’s Drac.

I eye the extra stake on the desk. It’s no use. I’d never strike in time.

“Let’s skip the tedious threats,” Harrison says, “and get right to the master’s forgiving my little —
cough
— indiscretion because I’ve brought to light this —”

Nora slams her foot into his instep and elbows him in the gut.

Harrison grunts. He’s more startled than hurt. He hops a couple of times. “These loafers are hand-tooled Italian leather!”

Meanwhile, Nora runs to my side. The tunnel is our only chance, and I’m reaching for Nora’s hand to pull her along when a swirl of dark smoke rises from the floor. It takes the form of a man and shoves us midway between itself and Harrison.

“You!” It’s him. Drac. He looks like his portrait over the fireplace. “You stole my cars!” His gaze sweeps the empty cells. “And my bleeding stock!”

My instinct is to argue with anything he says. But I’m proud of that.

“Nora,” he goes on in a calmer but somehow scarier tone, “we’re expecting guests. Go upstairs, get to the kitchen, do your job, and maybe I won’t have your son’s entrails fed to the sewer rats tomorrow.”

She hesitates, glancing my way.

“It’s okay,” I say, even though it’s anything but.

“You,” Drac addresses Harrison, “chain my daughter’s mistake. Give me ten, fifteen minutes, and then escort him to the parlor. It’s time the young lovers are reunited, don’t you think? He’ll make a perfect amuse-bouche.”

I’m not big on languages. But I think that means “tiny appetizer.”

I’m not only food, I’m insulted.

“Your Majesty,” Harrison begins, “perhaps you haven’t noticed that I’m a blessed being. I’m like you now. It was I who rooted out this deception —”

“Who are
you
to speak of betrayal?” With that, Drac turns to smoke again.

Harrison’s eyes flash red. “The master will kill Nora for this,” he tells me. “Kill her truly dead. What were you thinking?”

“Nora made her own decision,” I say. “Nora chose well.”

Harrison shoots me a look. Angry. Regretful?

Unarmed, I can’t outfight him. I can’t outrun him either. For now, I’m stuck. That’s okay. He’s not my target. Given the tension between him and the master vamp, he might even be a potential ally, and right now I can use whatever help I can find. I decide to take it down a notch.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” I begin, “why did you bail on Drac, anyway?”

Harrison opens the storage closet. “It was risky, but he kept putting off my elevation. And you know, you turn forty, you think about living forever, and you start wondering if you’ll be as pretty if your looks are frozen at forty-three.”

As he pulls out the chains, I press, “So, who was it?” Despite everything, I’m curious. “Who turned you?”

“Delta,” he replies, securing my hands behind my back.

I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mean Delta Air Lines.

At my puzzled expression, Harrison adds, “Delta the sentry. You know, the eternals that guard the grounds in wolf form. Alpha, Beta, Gamma —”

“Delta,” I say. So Drac doesn’t even call them by real names. “Talk about dehumanizing! I mean, even if they are —”

“Inhuman,” Harrison agrees, taking my arm. “Yes, Delta made that very point.”

Harrison’s unbeating heart doesn’t seem to be in it as he walks me down the long row of abandoned cells. Rounding a corner, I ask, “And where have you been all this time?”

“Madison,” Harrison replies with a wistful smile. “At an underground spa resort owned by rogue eternals. It’s top-notch. I signed up for the ‘all-me, all-night’ package. That’s a facial, a Swedish massage, and an herbal blood wrap.”

I just had to ask. Boarding the service elevator, I resist the urge to shudder.

AT THE IVORY-INLAID VANITY TABLE
in my bathroom off the wine cellar, I sink onto a padded Louis XIV chair and apply my lip liner.

I’ve got the basic eternal beauty kit: makeup, SPF 50, and (still unopened) sunless tanning lotion. The latter is popular among the gentry, but when I arrived preternaturally pale at my debut party, faux tanning was deemed too garish for the aristocracy.

What with the oddity of eternal reflections, I don’t realize Father has materialized behind me until the blade of Jonathan Harker’s knife pierces my throat.

“I’ve missed you,” I manage. “Welcome home, Father.”

Father.
The word tastes false and foul.

Troy McAllister is my father. He’s into barbecue and sci-fi and the Dallas Cowboys. He and Mom had a lousy marriage and a worse divorce. He shouldn’t have let that keep him away so much. Still, he never forgot a birthday and he offered to pay for summer acting classes and college tuition, and he always remembered to ask Lucy whether she’d seen the latest horror movie. Dad has his faults, but he loves me.

I’ll never again think of the master vampire as “father.”

I’m not his daughter. Not his princess. Not his china doll.

The Dracula presses the blade, drawing a bright line of blood, which streams down my neck. His voice is at my ear. “I’ve never been so brokenhearted, so down and disappointed.”

I knew he’d find out about everything that had gone wrong, sooner or later. I’d been hoping for later. I still don’t know what to say.

“I’ve been here with you this whole time,” Radford announces. “The bat at the window, the extra wolf-form sentry, the dust on the coffins and wine bottles, the passing gentleman on the crowded sidewalk . . .”

The mist in the fog! He was watching me, sabotaging me,
spying
on me.

I’d been wrong to assume the bat was Elina! No wonder he said he’d handle the matter himself. I’d wondered how he could dismiss an Old Blood so easily.

I remind myself that, in his own twisted way, Radford really does consider me his child and he’s been acting based on that. I’ve heard of parents reading diaries, listening in on phone calls, even checking Web-browser histories. This is taking it to the next level. I don’t know how well he managed to follow me through the city or how well he can hear in his less-corporeal forms. This was more than a mere surveillance effort, though. He set fire to my nursery. “So,” I begin, “your entire ‘absence’ was a test?”

I’d thought so, but I’d underestimated how intrusive, manipulative, and deceptive of one. The cut isn’t deep, not yet. My blood is seeping steadily, though. I look like I’m wearing a red turtleneck.

“That’s all you have to say?” Radford thunders, removing the blade. “My cars are gone! My cars and my bleeding stock! Every last human in the dungeon and now Laurie, too. My gala is tonight! I already had Freddy send out the word. The guests will arrive soon. Whatever will they think? Your boy, he’s the one responsible! And he turned my own chef against me! She helped him! Damn him to hell anyway!”

Oh, God. “Zachary?” I ask. “He’s back? Is he alive?”

“Not for long.”

I reach for a washcloth and press it against the shallow cut. “Pity.” With my free hand, I refresh my black lipstick and then reach for a two-inch-thick black velvet ribbon. “He’s so nice to look at. Still, he’ll make a tasty treat.”

I doubt that was the response Radford expected, and I’m proud of having delivered the line so well.

I’m also furious. Strip away his machinations, and all
I
did was make one ill-advised hiring decision. Meanwhile, it’s not as though Harrison has been the model PA.

Not . . . Not that
his
standards matter. I’ve had enough of his monstrous sensibilities, enough of the monster in both of us.

“Yes. Well . . .” Just like that, Radford’s demeanor flips and he abruptly changes the subject. “Not so long ago you called the human world home. We must be open to new ideas. Progress is a glorious thing!”

It’s dizzying, his mood swing, like that night in the kitchen with the maids’ tongues. One moment he’s out for my head. The next I’m his “sugar” again. Only this time, his madness is working in my favor.

“When hosting a fete,” he goes on, “what do young ladies and gentlemen of limited resources offer their peers?”

It takes effort to decipher Radford’s question. “You mean, what do people serve?” I think back to the one big high-school party I attended. “If someone has a fake ID or an older brother, they might get a keg. Usually, it’s BYOB. Bring your own —”

“Body!” Radford exclaims. “What a jim-dandy idea!”

Now what did I do? “It is?”

“This traitorous behavior by our staff, we can’t stand for it! As royalty, the burden falls on us to send a message across the board. The humans’ foolishness will cost lives, and” — he snaps his fingers — “satisfy our need to supply a more complete menu. Our guests can drink the pets they bring with them. Sugar, you’re a bona fide genius!”

I can’t believe he never left! I can’t believe the party is tonight! I have to hurry. Radford said to dress for the gala and meet him in the parlor in five minutes.

Radford said that Nora helped Zachary free the prisoners. I’m not surprised. I think, for her, doing something like that has been a long time coming. I suspect it was delivering the food to the dungeon herself, facing those victims in person, that finally pushed her to act.

I’m also sure she wouldn’t have crossed the line without warning her son first. But he can’t hide forever. She must be worried sick.

When I walk into the kitchen, carrying my book and Radford’s, I’m shocked to see Nora dicing a chilled heart into cubes. “What are you doing?” I ask. “Who was that?”

“Another of Porky’s cousins,” she replies. “Hardly any of the vamps eat solid food, and those few who do barely remember what anything tastes like. I hope.”

I’m embarrassed for doubting her — Nora, of all people, who has more faith in me than I deserve. I wonder in how many small ways she’s circumvented Radford.

A phone rings, and it takes me a second to realize it’s Nora’s.