The Den of Shadows Quartet (28 page)

“We call her Kristin, now. She doesn’t respond to her real name.” He paused. The silence was so long that Sarah began to wonder if he was finished, but finally he continued, “One of her friends, Heather, brought her to a party … I didn’t know then, but it was one of Nikolas’s bashes. She didn’t come home that night, or the next morning. My mother called the police, and they must have checked the hospitals.” Again he took a deep breath as if to brace himself, and she could see the vision forming in his eyes. “She had lost a lot of blood. He had carved his name into her arms, then left her nearly dead on some stranger’s front lawn.”

As he spoke, emotions surged across Robert’s aura — fury, frustration, hatred. He forced his lungs to take in a deep breath of air to calm himself, but it did no good. At first she was just scared and skittish when she got home. She wouldn’t let us call her Christine anymore, and she stayed in her room all the time. If you asked her, she would talk about Nikolas, about how … handsome and gentle he was.” The last words were spat like a curse. “She always described him as black and white, and after a while she made herself that way too. She shudders away from anything colorful, and she screams when she sees anything red.”

Sarah didn’t like doing it, but she probed his memory wound for useful information. Robert would have to deal with the pain if he wanted to help his sister. “Is that all you know?”

“Only that it gets worse every day. No doctor has been able to help her.” He shook his head. “I went to
the house where the bash had been a few days after Kristin got home, but it was collapsing in flame. There was this old man watching the fire — he lived next door, and invited me in for iced tea. Said the vampires had been living beside him for years. Usually, he said, he didn’t mind unless they put the music on really loud. But when they left Kristin on his lawn, he got fed up and torched the place …” Bitterly, Robert added, “He had known all along what they were, and what was going on over there. But he hadn’t gotten angry until they trampled his garden when they left Kristin.
That’s
when he acted.”

Sarah found herself pulling back from the human, who was trembling with rage strong enough to make her head spin. Yet she forced herself to say, “Robert, I need to talk to Kristin.”

He gave her a you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me look. “She doesn’t talk to anyone, not even me.”

Sarah wanted to argue further, but held back. A visit now would be wasted. She needed time to think of a way to approach Kristin so the girl would talk to her.

Robert gave her a ride home, and as they arrived Sarah took a pad of paper from her backpack. Scribbling down her phone number, she ripped out the sheet and handed it to Robert. “Give me a call sometime soon.” Hesitantly, she added, “You really should talk to my mother, too. She can train you to fight.” Sarah did not know if the human would admit he needed help, but Robert wasn’t going to live long if he wasn’t trained.

As she slid out of the car, Robert grabbed her arm. “Wait just a sec.” He paused, then seemed to make up
his mind. “If you really think you have a chance at him, I have something for you.”

He tore off the bottom of the paper where she had written her number, and jotted down an address. “I was at a bash here on Halloween. I left when a fight broke out, but I was there long enough to know it’s his house. It’s about two hours away.”

Sarah smiled, glad for the first bit of truly helpful information Robert had been able to supply. Soon she would be facing one of the longest-hunted vampires in the Vida records. Not even Dominique and Adianna would be able to belittle
that
fight.

“Thanks.”

“Tell me how it goes?”

With a nod, she closed the car door. She was glad her cast was coming off tonight.

S
ARAH SKIPPED SCHOOL
the next day. Posing as her mother, she called early and excused herself.

No well-trained hunter was mad enough to stalk a vampire on his own turf at night. While real vampires were not confined to coma-like, coffin-enclosed sleeps whenever the sun was up, they were naturally nocturnal. Christopher and Nissa were prime examples that vampires could function fine in the daylight world, but the stronger a vampire grew, the more irritating sunlight became, and the less natural a diurnal schedule was.

So she was fairly sure that at ten o’clock in the morning, Nikolas would be asleep. At least he would be alone, and not hosting a bash. She wasn’t suicidal enough to approach him in a group of his kind, but she believed she could handle one vampire on her own — even the legendary Nikolas.

When she reached the address Robert had given her, she drove past it once, checking for lights and sounds.
It was hard to tell over the vampiric aura that saturated the area, but she thought she sensed humans inside.

The next time around the block, she parked down the street. She stopped the Jaguar at the boundary of two property lines, so if either of the houses’ owners saw her, they would each assume she was a guest of the other.

Breaking into a house at ten o’clock in the morning was not generally a good idea, but somehow she doubted she would be welcome if she simply knocked on the door. Swathing herself in magic, she approached through the side yard. If a human glanced in her direction, he would see her movement as the rustle of leaves in a breeze. She wasn’t invisible, but humans saw a great deal that they didn’t consciously notice. She hoped her magic would keep her safe from detection of the blood bonded humans inside as well, since if any of them saw her, the vampire would shortly follow.

The house was upper middle class, nondescript but for a string of clematis that bloomed a brilliant violet around the mailbox and wraparound porch. Trees grew heavily in this neighborhood, providing plenty of shade in which simple plants grew. Someone had devoted time to gardening.

The image of a long-hunted vampire practicing horticulture was amusing enough to bring a smile to her face, although she doubted he was the gardener.

From the yard, she sized up the house. It was three stories, four if it had a basement. The top floor had a large bay window on the northern side, but white curtains blocked Sarah’s view.

After a quick check to make sure all her knives were
in place, Sarah swung onto the porch, her sneakers barely making a sound. A quick burst of laughter alerted her just before two girls came around the corner of the house. Focusing her power, Sarah threw a burst of it at the two, the magical equivalent of a hammer to the head. Both girls collapsed, instantly unconscious. They would wake awhile later, groggy but unharmed.

Taking a deep breath to regain her focus, Sarah stepped past the girls and slipped through the open door they had just exited.

Instantly she felt color-blind.
Black and white
, Robert had said. She was in the right place.

The carpet of the living room was plush black. The walls were white but for abstract designs that had been painted onto them in black. The furniture was a combination of black and white.

Her head nearly spinning at the abrupt change of scenery, Sarah barely avoided knocking a vase of white roses off a black table. Their green leaves were the only bit of color in the room.

She passed through the first floor quickly, easily satisfied that it was empty. On the second floor she passed one door behind which she sensed another human. This one was probably sleeping, but Sarah didn’t risk checking. The rest of the house was empty but for the vampire she sensed on the top floor, probably in the room with the bay window.

Climbing another flight of stairs, she sensed him very close by. If he was sleeping, she still had a chance to surprise him. More likely he had already sensed her the same way she could sense him, and was expecting to fight.

She opened the door that she knew must lead to Nikolas’s room, but what she found there threw her entirely off balance.

The walls were pure art, covered with pictures drawn in careful black paint, like a sketch enlarged to become a mural.

And she
recognized
the figures. Kaleo and Kendra, and other high-society vampiric killers, each in aloof portraits, graced the walls. Worse, she recognized her friends — Christopher and Nissa.

Still dazed, she spun when she sensed someone behind her.

Christopher?

He was dressed entirely in black — black boots, black jeans, and a black T-shirt. His hair was much longer than it had been when she saw him last, and the ebony waves were tied back.

He looked exactly the same except for the hair, but something was very
wrong
.

His expression was dark and angry, as opposed to the open, smiling one she had grown so fond of. But the wrongness didn’t reach her brain until he pushed her back into the wall, forcing the breath from her lungs. The vampire’s aura washed over her like ice water — too strong, too dark. Christopher did not feed on humans, but this vampire did, and probably had for more than a hundred years.

So this is the brother
, she found herself thinking. She remembered how Nissa and Christopher had clammed up when she had tried to inquire about Christopher’s twin.
Would have been nice to know before stumbling in here
.

Too late — she had hesitated for that vital instant and
now Nikolas had the advantage. He grabbed both her wrists with one of his hands and held them against the wall, careful to avoid the spring-loaded knife she was wearing on her left arm. He stood to her side, carefully out of kicking range.

Sarah was concentrating, preparing to strike him with her mind, when his free hand came from nowhere and hit her.

“Don’t try it, Sarah.” His voice was similar to Christopher’s — a slight southern accent, so like the one she had come to trust.

She pulled her mind away from Nikolas’s family — he was a threat, and that was all that mattered.

Yet he wasn’t doing anything threatening at the moment. Instead, he was regarding her with curiosity “Sarah Vida, I presume?” he inquired, voice civil.

“Making sure introductions are out of the way before we fight?” she asked flippantly.

“I’ll admit I’m flattered to have such a prestigious hunter track me down,” he answered calmly, “but I haven’t the faintest idea how to deal with you.”

That threw her off guard. So far as she knew, there was only one way vampires “dealt with” hunters who entered their lairs.

“Want to hear my suggestions?” she asked, voice light, the words a cover as she started to raise power again.

He raised one eyebrow. “I don’t think we’re —” He broke off and hit her again, the blow making her head spin. “I said not to try it.”

So he could feel her building power; that much was obvious. She would simply have to wait for a chance
when he was distracted, which meant she might need to wait for him to bite her.

“If you’re going to kill me, go ahead. If you’re waiting for me to scream or beg, your expectations are way off.”

“Your control is really that good?” She heard in his voice that he had taken her words as a challenge.

It was a challenge she knew she could win. He could break her neck easily if he wanted to, but if he wanted to hear her scream, he would have to hurt her. Badly. That would take time, and time would give her a chance to escape. “Yes, it is.”

Nikolas pulled a knife from his pocket: an ivory-handled jackknife with a rose inlay made of black stone. Opening it, he pressed it against her left wrist, just hard enough for her to feel the sharpness of the blade against her skin.

“If that’s supposed to be a threat, it won’t work,” she informed him as he glanced to her face as if to gauge her expression. “A cut there would bleed out quickly. If you mean to feed on me, you won’t waste so much blood.”

“And if I just mean to kill you?” he inquired.

You would have done so already,” she answered, her voice calm despite her uncertainty.

You sure you won’t beg?” he asked, offering her one last chance to avoid pain.

“Quite sure.”

Still holding her wrists with his right hand, he held the knife in his left hand, and pressed the blade into her shoulder — one sharp cut, about an inch in length.

Her muscle twitched as the knife cut through it, but
Sarah refused to let pain show on her face. She used her training in order to not react, since he was looking for a response. She could take a lot of damage and heal from it. Sooner or later, he would slip up, and then he would be dead.

He pulled the knife upward, this cut at a slight angle to the last one, and then down again, as if making a Z.

Or an N.

The next cut was just beside the last line of the first letter, a half-inch line, and the next was a line parallel to the second letter. She knew what he was writing, and sighed, realizing this could be a long night. Two more short lines followed the most recent, making a K, and then a rough, squared-off circle.

Nikolas
.

If it scarred, she was going to be really annoyed.

“Is your control really this good, or are you a secret masochist?” Nikolas asked as he cut the tail of the S, a jagged underline.

“Is this a ritual thing, or are you just a sadist?” she returned, impatient. Though he was enjoying his busy-work, he wasn’t focused enough for Sarah to act.

“Both,” he answered, laughing, as he turned to the other arm. “You can ask me to stop any time now.” She understood what he really meant —
You can break down and beg
. “Or must I continue?”

“Hurry up, would you?” She yawned. “I have to get to the drugstore before it closes. We’re out of Band-Aids at my house.”

Nikolas laughed. “Don’t worry about that — you won’t need them.”

The rose petals were more difficult, and Nikolas did
not say anything as he worked on them. When he moved to the ivy she took a deep breath, preparing herself. The ivy’s stem twined around the wrist; in order to cut the full design, Nikolas would need to shift his grip.

Her arms had gone numb from the abuse and from being held above her head so long, which was actually a good thing. The pain was dulling.