For Whom the Spell Tolls (13 page)

“My age is of no concern to you, Sweet,” he started but I adamantly shook my head.

“Your age is of every concern to me, you bastard.” I took a deep breath, trying to calm my frantic heart. “How old are you, Bram?” I demanded. “No three hundred year old vampire could have glamoured me the way you just did.”

“I am nearly seven hundred, Sweet,” he answered as if it was no big deal.

I shook my head and closed my eyes, trying to keep the stars from clouding my vision. It was amazing I’d even been able to fight him off at all considering the strength inherent in a seven-hundred-year-old vampire. With his ability, he could have permanently damaged my mind because his glamour was so potent. I’d heard of women who had become vegetables after being the unfortunate victims of a centuries-old vampire’s glamour.

“What is of greater concern to me, my dear, is that you very nearly gave in to me. Had I not encouraged you to fight me, I am quite certain I would still be enjoying your body as we speak,” he ground out, his fangs suddenly lengthening again.

I glared at him. “Do you really expect me to believe that you wanted me to fight you?”

He returned my glare. “Do you not recall me using those exact words?” Then he chuckled deeply as if the whole thing were of no consequence to him at all. “I have had many opportunities to force you into my bed, Sweet. You must ask yourself why I have never sought to glamour you until this moment?”

“Maybe because you know there’s a good chance I won’t survive this attack on the Netherworld so you figured this was your last chance.” I paused. “And weren’t you the one to remind me that desperate times call for desperate measures?”

He glanced at me and raised a brow, appearing offended. “As I said earlier, this was a test of your strength. Had you not passed it, I would have attempted to talk you out of joining your brethren in this battle.”

“The chances of any vampires seven hundred or older in the Netherworld Guard are slim.”

Bram nodded. “Quite true, Sweet, quite true, but why take the chance? I decided I should do you the favor of practicing your resistance against the oldest of my race.”

I swallowed hard, somehow surprised but not all that surprised to find out Bram was the oldest “living” vampire. “I want you to take me back to the hotel. I’ve had enough of you and your games.”

“Very well,” he said matter-of-factly. “Though I will continue to insist upon my innocence in this instance.”

And that was when I lost my temper again. “Bram, did you or did you not kiss me, feel me up and basically see me completely naked?” I demanded, coloring as I remembered the incident with the wind trying to get between my legs while my dress was bunched around my middle. “And I’m also convinced the wind and that fog earlier, were both of your own design.”

“I am guilty of all of the above, Sweet,” he said and took a few steps closer to me. “And believe me when I tell you that I shall repeatedly replay every memory of your touch and your smell.”

“And believe me when I tell you that if you ever touch me again, I’ll have your seven-hundred-year-old balls mounted on my wall.”

SEVEN

Bram frowned at me, raising his brows in a sarcastic expression, and letting me know in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t keen on having his balls mounted on my wall. Well, I wasn’t too keen on being glamoured by a horny vampire, so I figured that made us equal.

“As you are so anxious to return to your hotel, I shall endeavor to please you,” he said stonily, his frown still evident. “Before we embark on our journey, may I suggest one recommendation?”

I glanced at him and sighed heavily, wondering when he was going to give this charade a rest. “Go ahead,” I answered in a tone of unconcealed ennui. There was only so much of Bram and his incessant sexual innuendoes that I could put up with, and I’d definitely had my fill.

The vampire held my attention for a few more seconds before he finally decided to say whatever was on his mind. I wondered if, at some point in his ridiculously long career, he’d ever worked as an actor. All of his dramatic pauses as well as his overall flair for the histrionic suggested he probably would have been a good one.

“Your first attempt to enter the Netherworld should occur at eighteen degrees north, and sixty-three degrees west,” he said quickly, as if I had a clue as to what the hell he was talking about.

“What? Wait a second,” I started, shaking my head as I held up my hands to tacitly protest “Um, you lost me.” But recognizing his calculations as coordinates, I started searching the room for something to write on. I had to admit it more than surprised me that Bram actually had something serious to talk about. I assumed this latest conversation would be merely another bold attempt to woo me into having sex with him.

Unable to find a pen or a piece of paper, I shook my fist until I felt my fairy dust leaking through my fingers. Then I unclenched my fist over my other hand, while imagining a blank piece of paper and a black, ballpoint pen. Within seconds, both appeared in my outstretched palm and I glanced up at Bram again. “Would you please repeat that?”

He did as I requested and I hurriedly scribbled the coordinates on the sheet of paper before looking up at him again with another question. “So why do you think we should enter the Netherworld there? And more importantly, where is ‘there’?”

“Those coordinates, when programmed into the portal-ripping device that I already gave to you, will transport you into Squander Valley.” He paused and remained silent, apparently presupposing that I would know what in the hell Squander Valley was. I didn’t.

“What’s that?”

Bram raised his left brow like he was in the process of judging me, and I was coming up short, but I couldn’t say I cared. Sometimes his expectations were impossible to meet. I mean, how many times had I been to the Netherworld? All of once.

So put that in your pipe and smoke it, Bram,
I thought to myself.

“Squander Valley was the original site for a proposed community,” Bram started. “It was a project that had to be aborted once it was discovered that the entire area was sitting atop a
Bregone
swamp.”

“A what swamp?”

He shook his head as if he’d just emerged from the realm of being disappointed at my ability to understand him and was now downright exasperated. “I must remind myself that you have not traveled much in the Netherworld,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. He brought his eyes to mine and shook his head. “I find it quite tiresome to play the role of teacher at every turn.”

“Moving on,” I grumbled.

“A
Bregone
swamp is hazardous to the health of any creature unfortunate enough to be within proximity of one. They emit
Brigonnia
fumes, which cause immediate death.”

“How?”

“I was about to tell you,” he muttered with another arched brow. It was a good thing that as a vampire he remained the same age as he was when turned. Otherwise, his forehead would have been one wrinkly mess, given all his frowns of exasperation. “Once the victim inhales the rancid air of the
Bregone,
the toxin travels through his body, instantly petrifying his organs. Moments later, the deceased organs decompose into nothing but an inky, black mess, which the victim then regurgitates during the final throes of death.”

“Sounds fascinating,” I said with obvious distaste. “And whose great idea was it to build a community on a
Bregone
swamp?” I asked, trying to banish any further images of death by
Brigonnia
fumes from my mind.

“I do not know for certain, but I do know that it is incredibly difficult to detect a
Bregone
swamp, as they exist within the crust of the earth. An unknowing passerby would not realize he was anywhere near one without proper detection. And even worse, the
Brigonnia
fumes emit no smell. Once you realize you have crossed into the boundaries of one, it is usually too late.”

“Thanks for the
Bregone
swamp 101 lesson, Bram,” I said as I dropped my hand holding the pen and piece of paper to my side while I gaped at the vampire before moving to my second inquiry. “I think the question now remains why the hell would I want to send my soldiers to a horribly painful death? I’m trying to defeat my father, not lose the battle before it’s even begun, remember?”

Bram shook his head, apparently vexed that I wasn’t following him. I had a good idea that all this irritation was really stemming from his sexual frustration. Well, he could go on being sexually frustrated for another twenty minutes or so. By then, I was more than sure he’d find some willing woman to appease his frazzled male nerves.

“You would not be sentencing them to death as long as each of them is protected by a gas mask,” he said as if the answer were as clear as he was horny. He could have been the horniest person I’d ever met. Well, I guessed Knight could also be in the running for that title …

“As to the reason I advised entering the Netherworld via Squander Valley,” the vampire continued, “Squander Valley is a ghost town, and as such, it is safe. The Netherworld Guard does not patrol there despite being relatively close to one of the Guard’s training bases.”

“You want us to attack their base,” I finished for him, smiling. I was beginning to recognize the beauty of his plan. One thing I could say for Bram was that he was smart, even if he drove me crazy, most of the time.

“Ah, behold the Regulator whom I have heard so much about,” he said with a patronizing grin. It quickly turned into a lascivious, full-body stare.

“How many soldiers are on that base?” I asked, ignoring his jibe along with his roaming eyes for the moment.

“It is the largest training base in the Netherworld,” he answered. Glancing up at the ceiling as if the answer to my question lay there, he replied, “I would estimate perhaps two hundred soldiers live and train there on a regular basis.”

“To defeat them, I would need at least two hundred of my own soldiers,” I said. The sinking feeling in my gut started to churn as I thought that maybe this sounded a little too good to be true.

“Not if you are the superior strategist,” Bram said, crossing his arms against his chest and regarding me coolly. “A few men with the proper artillery could go far.”

He thought we should bomb the base—at least, I figured that was his gist. “So we take out this training compound, then what?”

Bram shrugged. “I cannot answer all of your questions, Sweet.”

“I’m not asking you to,” I replied saucily. “But you know the landscape of the Netherworld way better than I do; and because you rubbed elbows with my father, you also know the structure of the Guard as well as the ANC.” I grinned broadly. “Bram, I know you well enough by now to realize you know more than you’re letting on.”

“The phrase ‘never look a gift horse in the mouth’ comes to mind,” he said, regarding me with effrontery.

I eyed Bram again, wondering if I should tell him about our plan, and how we intended to stage a fake surrender of Loyalist Netherworlders through the airport portal in which I’d first traveled to the Netherworld. But then I decided against it, thinking it was smarter to keep some things under wraps. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Bram; but I couldn’t say I completely trusted him either. Something in the back of my mind kept niggling at me to be careful where my trust was concerned—that same voice inside my head that previously cautioned me not to put all my eggs in Bram’s basket.

“If you use multiple entry points simultaneously and manage to wipe out the largest of the Netherworld Guard’s training bases, I believe you would have the advantage,” the gallant vampire finished. Then he eyed me pointedly. “Of course, one of your targets should be your father, himself.”

I didn’t say anything, but simply nodded and Bram continued. “Slay the puppet master and all his puppets shall inevitably fall, do you not agree?”

I swallowed hard, but kept my poker face. So Bram thought along the same lines as I did regarding the assassination of my father. Interesting. And now that I possessed Bram’s “Melchior O’Neil GPS timepiece,” I expected the job might be entirely easier than what I’d previously imagined.

“Of course, it sounds good in theory,” he continued, his words echoing Knight’s. At the thought of my Loki, I felt anxiety bubbling up inside me. I had to get back to the hotel and tell Knight everything Bram said, minus the whole glamouring incident, of course. It wasn’t that I was trying to protect Bram by not telling Knight, it was because I believed we, The Resistance, still needed Bram. And giving Knight one more reason to despise him wouldn’t exactly assist us in our goal of making everyone get along.

Speaking of the vampire, he glanced at me with eyes as sharp as glass. Remembering what happened the last time I dared to gaze into his eyes, I chose to avert mine to the ground.

“It sounds good in theory, but nothing is as easy as it sounds,” I finished for him. I could feel my jaw tightening as I realized the enormous battle that awaited us. When I looked up at him again, I found his gaze somewhat less intimidating.