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Which is why his back was turned when the bear suddenly leapt up from the ground and struck.

The mage must have been shielded, drawing the barrier down enough that it was indistinguishable from his skin, to make it seem that he was risking more than he was. Because the blow would have dropped him otherwise. As it was, it knocked the sword from his hand, and sent him staggering.

And by the time he regained his footing and turned, it was to the sight of a large brown bear, wet and bloodied and furious—

And holding the sword.

Mircea did a double take, and then just stared. Because he’d seen dancing bears and fighting bears and even a little bear cub on a leash that went around with a bag tied to its neck, like the trained monkeys some of the panhandlers used, collecting donations from the festival crowds. But he’d never seen this.

He didn’t understand how he was seeing it now, because how the hell—

Oh. That was how. Because the sword that the grandstanding mage had been using wasn’t the usual, lightweight sort carried for personal safety. Perhaps he hadn’t thought that one of those would work against such an opponent, or perhaps he had simply wished to show off.

Instead, he’d brought one of the new type being developed at the Venetian armories for the export trade, and designed to be used in battle. One with a thick, two-edged blade and an unusual pommel, where the old handguards had been woven together to form a sort of basket to protect the user’s hand. And which the long, curved claws of a bear could snag quite effectively, it seemed, even without human dexterity.

Not that dexterity appeared to be a problem, because the bear was wielding the weapon like a trained swordsman. Or a trained swordswoman, Mircea thought grimly, recalling Horatiu’s frequent complaints that Dorina was running around with the local children again. And fighting up and down their narrow street using the wooden swords someone’s grandfather had made, playing knights and pirates and whatever else their imaginations could devise.

And, apparently, someone had given them some instruction, because the bear’s stance wasn’t half-bad, Mircea thought, and then shook his head, because he was clearly losing his mind.

Only, if he was, so was the rest of the garden. Everyone was in flux, yelling, laughing, squealing, and pointing. Or pulling back out of the way of the chase, which was quickly moving around the confined space. Or jostling for position with all the newcomers flooding in to see what the fuss was about.

Everyone, that is, except for Mircea.

Who knew he should do something, but had no idea what.

For a moment, he just stood there, hugging the wall and staring like everyone else. Both because the spectacle deserved it and because, while he wasn’t sure what to do, he knew instinctively what not to do: he must not give any indication that he had any special knowledge of what was happening. The farce of a man being chased about by his own pet, which was now spanking him with the flat of the sword every few steps or so, might look amusing, but that could quickly change.

Very quickly.

Mircea had recently brokered an agreement with the Vampire Senate for his dhampir daughter, whom they would normally have killed on sight, to remain unharmed—as long as she stayed under his care and in Venice. Even then, the agreement was good only until she grew up, but at least it gave her a modicum of safety. A modicum that would last exactly as long as her mental abilities remained unknown.

For his kind respected power above all things—as long as it was theirs. But power they didn’t have and couldn’t counter, in the hands of a despised dhampir? Dorina would be dead the moment they knew.

Dorina, Mircea thought softly, careful not to raise even his mental voice. Because many of the vampires here tonight were senior enough that they might pick up on a stray thought, as he had done. That is sufficient. Go home now.

He’ll hurt the bear some more if I do!

I don’t think he’s going to be hurting anything tonight, darling, Mircea thought, which was an understatement. The mage was hysterical, staring around between blows, yelling the names of other mages whom he seemed to believe were pranking him. And then tripping over something, Mircea didn’t see what. And huddling in a little ball, arms over his head, whimpering every time a sword smack landed.

Can you get home alone? Mircea asked. Surreally, the bear looked his way, and nodded.

He swallowed. Go then.

And she did. Because Dorina was always obedient, although one had to remember to state exactly what was required. Otherwise, she had an impressive ability to find ways around even some of his most carefully worded instructions.

Like that one, he thought, as the sword was discarded, flung away into some bushes.

In favor of the whip.

No, no! Mircea thought, but it was too late. Because the whip, which had been sizzling against the ground like a snake made out of lightning, was even easier to use than the sword. The bear scooped the nonburning handle into its mouth, and turned toward the doors to the main part of the house, which were open again thanks to everyone coming this way.

Everyone who suddenly found themselves facing a huge, angry, fire-wielding bear.

Things went about the way one would expect after that, with Mircea being all but trampled as a houseful of finely dressed people screamed and fought and stepped on one another in their panic to get away.

By the time he made it back to his feet and into the house, it was to see overturned tables, shattered vases, burning draperies, and a long, blackened, still-smoking line on walls and floors and furniture, showing where the bear had been. He ran to the front door, just in time to see a fiery whip flaring in the distance, appearing to levitate down the bank of a canal. Because the dark hulk that carried it, and that his softhearted daughter was not about to leave behind, was no longer visible against the night.

Mircea sagged back against the wet bricks of the palazzo, feeling dizzy. And watching two finely dressed guards crawl out of the canal, cursing. And wondered, not for the first time, if he was up to this.


Tags: Karen Chance Dorina Basarab Vampires