It happens that way sometimes, although mostly these days I keep it under better control. But that night was like old times, when I’d gone on rampages that sometimes left dozens dead, and I was never able to remember more than flashes later. It was the real nature of a dhampir and the reason no one ever trusted us, especially the vamps, who were our favorite prey. It was one of so very many reasons I hoped Claire had been a lot smarter than Kyle had said.
I came around eventually, which rather surprised me. One of these centuries, I fully expect to die in the middle of some berserker rage and never even know when it happens. I’ve come close more times than I can recall, waking up broken and bleeding, surrounded by bodies in places I didn’t recognize and sometimes days later than my last memory. This was better than most. There was something sharp pinning my shoulder to the wall, and the burn of familiar pain helped me concentrate enough to pull the rest of the way out of the trance.
I knew when I’d succeeded by the fact that my shoulder suddenly felt like it had caught fire. As an added bonus, I was the proud owner of an aching jaw, a pounding headache and a severe urge to vomit. The redhead was holding the rapier that had me skewered like a butterfly on a pin, rendering my left arm temporarily useless, and my host was using both hands to hold my right. I was glad to see that they looked more than a little beaten up. The redhead’s pretty white sweater was stained with blood that didn’t smell like mine, and the brunet had a long gash down one side of his face that had barely missed his right eye. It wasn’t deep, though, and it started to close over as I watched. Damn.
“My lord, I do not mean to interfere, but perhaps restraints…?” The voice had a faint French accent, which explained why I hadn’t known him. The redhead was a Senate member, but from the European version, not the North American. And I hadn’t been to Europe since a very memorable visit during the Great War. He was looking a little spooked, which would have pleased me under other circumstances. At the moment, however, I was distracted by my host moving one hand up to grip me around the throat.
“I would put you over my knee if I thought it would do any good,” he told me grimly.
The other vamp looked like he’d just been slapped. I laughed. “He thinks you’re being kinky,” I said, pausing to spit out a tooth that had come loose. No worry. I’d grow a replacement soon enough, and at least it was a back one this time. I grinned at the French vamp, who looked vaguely ill at the thought of anyone doing anything with me, except maybe planting a stake in my ribs. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”
The brunet sighed and released me, pausing to yank out the rapier as he did so. I didn’t wince. At the moment, the pain almost felt good, a reminder that, once again, I’d beaten the odds and lived. Not that I’d been in serious danger this time. He wouldn’t kill me when he needed my help. Well, at least not until I turned him down.
“I was planning introductions, had you given me the opportunity,” I was told acerbically.
The redhead’s expression was now bordering on revulsion. There must be a brain inside that pretty head, because he appeared to be putting things together, but not willing to believe what his instincts were telling him. I decided to help him out. I turned to my host, who was looking down at me with an annoyance he wasn’t bothering to hide. I threw my good arm around his neck and gave him a robust kiss on the cheek. “Hello, Daddy!”
Fifteen minutes later I was lying on the floor howling, and it wasn’t from pain. I hadn’t laughed that hard in years, to the point that I almost couldn’t breathe and my ribs actually hurt. Of course, that could have been from one of the new bruises I was sporting—between the bar fight and blacking out, I was a little under the weather—but at the moment I didn’t care. I wiped my streaming eyes and tried to sit up.
Mircea, better known as Daddy dearest when he bothered to acknowledge the connection, was sitting on the sofa with folded arms, waiting me out. The French guy had poured himself a drink—stiff even by my standards—and taken it to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the darkened cityscape. He had his back to us. I wasn’t sure whom he was trying to block out, the abomination or the one who made her.
I crawled into an armchair and valiantly fought to restrain myself. It was difficult, with what I’d just been told. I don’t have a chance to do this often, so I savored the moment. “Would it be out of line to say I told you so?” I asked, with almost a straight face.
“I have never known you to be concerned with proprieties,” was the caustic reply.
“Du-te dracului,” I said automatically, before realizing how ironic telling him to go to the devil was under the circumstances.
“I am proposing to send you to him instead,” Mircea replied evenly.
I nodded at the other vamp. “You tell your friend there that this is a suicide mission?” I glanced at the handsome vamp. “Got a death wish, buddy?”
The Frenchman ignored me, but Mircea decided to be contentious. As usual. “He won’t be going alone. That is why I went t
o the trouble of locating you. His job is to trap Vlad. Yours is—”
“Did you tell him that you could’ve taken Uncle Drac out last time, but were too busy seducing some Senate member to bother?”
“—to keep him alive. He doesn’t know my brother; you do.”
“Which is precisely why I’m not going anywhere near him.” I stood up, stretched and looked around for my coat. Claire had bought it for me after a hunt ruined my last leather number. She’d hoped it would be more resilient, being washable and all, but I wasn’t so sure. My wardrobe is constantly updated since I trash clothes like other people throw out Kleenex—a hazard of the job. The last time I saw the coat, it had been covered in goo along with my T-shirt. I decided that I must’ve left them lying in the bathroom.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“To see if my dry cleaner can get out whatever it is Varos demons secrete when they spit at you. Pinkish purple ooze, smells like a family of skunks and eats into fabric like acid.”
I headed for the door, but before I could get there, Daddy was in the way, reclining against the doorjamb. “Sit down.”
I sighed. I hadn’t really expected it to be that easy. “There’s no point.” Mircea just stood there, so I elaborated, more for the benefit of the idiot who’d gotten roped into this mess than for dear old Dad. Maybe the poor bastard could still weasel out of it. For his sake, I hoped so, since he was certainly doomed otherwise.
“London, 1889. Dark and stormy night. Ring any bells? I think the exact quote was, ‘If you do not finish this tonight, if you leave him any avenue by which to return, I wash my hands of the whole affair. Next time, you will hunt him alone.’ ” I glanced at the French guy, who’d turned around to stare at us. “I was a lot more pretentious back then,” I explained, “but you get the drift. Barely survived the last go-round, not doing it again, especially when all you’re planning is to put him in another of those oh-so-secure traps and wait for him to find another way out. And that’s assuming he doesn’t eviscerate you and anybody dumb enough to follow you first. Now get out of the way, Daddy dear; I have a real job to do.”
“This is your job, until I say otherwise.”
I smiled. I was feeling fairly mellow for a change. I wasn’t sure if that was because of all the violence earlier or the laughing fit, but either way, I actually didn’t feel like tearing his head off. “And you used to have such good hearing.”
“You will not defy me on this.”
I waited for a minute, but he just stood there, looking all grim and macho. It was the face that usually caused other vamps to sink to their knees, babbling apologies and trying to kiss his expensive, leather-covered toes. It had never worked on me. “Um, I’m assuming there’s another half to that sentence. Because I’m really not seeing—”