Blood Guilt (12 page)

“Gavril!” Elizabeth pounced, as if she’d just remembered a point in Mihaela’s hastily blurted story that needed clarification. “Why did you stop Maximilian from killing him? I know we’re not meant to slay vampires willy-nilly anymore,
but
…”

“It was a mistake,” Mihaela confessed. “I regretted it as soon as I did it, because that’s how Gavril managed to get away with Robbie. It was just—instinct.”

“Then your instincts have changed a hell of a lot,” István remarked.

Mihaela took her bottom lip between her teeth. She didn’t even know why it was so difficult to say, except she rarely spoke of her family’s massacre. Stupidly, perhaps because he was a stranger, it had been easier to talk to Maximilian. “I suppose I should tell you that too. I recognized Gavril. I think he’s the vampire who killed my family.”

It reduced the room to silence. Mihaela was sure she could even hear a clock ticking somewhere in the apartment.

“Silly, isn’t it?” she said, with almost genuine lightness. “He’s a Romanian vampire, but I had to go all the way to Scotland to run into him.”

Elizabeth took her hand and squeezed. She didn’t attempt words, as if she knew their inadequacy. Mihaela glanced up at her gratefully and then at István. “There’s more. I don’t think it was a random attack. I never thought to find out before, but I discovered my father was a seismologist. I think Gavril stole his research papers when he killed my family.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. Her mouth opened to speak and then closed again.

“Well,” István said, glancing from Mihaela to Elizabeth and back. “Go kill the bastard.”

****

When Elizabeth bolted back to her teaching job at Budapest University, Mihaela hung around to help István clear up. They worked in silence, largely, until Mihaela was fairly sure they were thinking the same thing.

She laid down the dish towel and turned to face István. “Konrad
did
talk to you about his pet scheme, didn’t he?”

“His militant hunters? I presume that’s why you suddenly got the urge to take up five years’ holiday entitlement somewhere else.”

Mihaela gave a lopsided smile. “Am I so easy to read?”

“Yes.”

“Git,” said Mihaela, employing one of Elizabeth’s lesser-known insults. “What did you tell him?”

István shrugged. “In my condition, I didn’t have to tell him anything. I’m no use to any hunters, militant or otherwise. He was just using me as a sounding board.”

“What sound did you make?” Mihaela persisted.

“I told him not to rush into anything, that he should wait and see how things went before he started tearing the network apart. What did you say?”

Mihaela wrinkled her nose. “The same, more or less.” She drew in her breath. “The trouble is, I quite wanted to join him. I wanted it to be the same as it always was, the same good versus the same evil. I wanted to keep killing them.”

“So why don’t you?”

“Because I wouldn’t be saving the world anymore, would I? I’d be going after personal vengeance at the
expense
of the world.”

István’s clear eyes were steady on her face. “Is that what you truly believe?”

She nodded, once. “Yes. For now.”

“He won’t leave it—or you—alone,” István warned.

“Or you,” Mihaela said ruefully. “I suppose it’s our job to talk him out of it.”

****

Maximilian lay on the stone floor of Saloman’s palace basement, the stone compass between his fingers while his mind shut out the insistent whispering vampires and connected instead with Robbie.

There are three of them with him now
, the child said excitedly.
Two I remember from home and a different one. We’re going sightseeing tonight.

Where to?
Maximilian asked at once, willing the needle of the stone compass to move. It had shimmered before, edging from one side to the other, pointing in the various directions of other vampires who had some kind of stone gift. But Maximilian knew about them already. Now that he was concentrating on Robbie to the extent that their minds were connected, the stone compass was ignoring all others. And clearly it couldn’t find Robbie.

Or perhaps it didn’t work on humans, even those who possessed the Ancient gene.

Don’t know,
Robbie admitted.

Try to reach me when you go. Touch as much stone as you can, and let me see through your eyes.

I’ll try,
Robbie said dubiously. And then his mind broke up into a tangle of half-formed apologies and nervous tension. The vampires must have joined him, and he no longer trusted himself to communicate safely with Maximilian. Gavril would pay for the child’s fear, but at the moment, Maximilian felt no immediate concern for Robbie’s safety. The vampires needed him.

Maximilian rose to his bare feet and padded around the basement, seeking a connection for the compass while still keeping his focus on Robbie.

He paused, realizing a still figure stood in one of the stone archways watching him. “Nothing?” Saloman said aloud. He lounged against the wall, so casual that an ignorant observer might have imagined he wasn’t interested. But he wouldn’t have come down here if he didn’t care. He wore a white silk shirt and fine, dark trousers, and his long, black hair was tied behind his head. Even in a cellar, Saloman looked elegant.

“Nothing,” Maximilian said. “I might have more luck when he’s outside, moving on stone. There’s more chance then of hitting one that can connect us. One thing I learned from Robbie: he’s in a similar time zone.”

“Mediterranean Europe, then?” Saloman hazarded. “Or Africa.”

Maximilian, who’d come to much the same conclusion, said nothing, just continued walking the perimeter of the basement, brushing his hand against the walls as he went. When he’d got as far as Saloman, his maker said, “Elizabeth found something on the BBC news about your boy, Robbie. He’s been reported missing, and there’s a massive police hunt for him going on all over the UK.”

“They should have paid this much attention to him while he was in their country,” Maximilian said with a faint curl of his lip. “Gavril must have masked him at the airport. I’m going out,” he added, passing Saloman in the archway. “Tell me if you learn anything?”

“Of course.”

Maximilian felt his maker’s gaze burning into his back as he moved toward the basement steps.

“Your hunter is here,” Saloman said. “In Budapest.”

Maximilian paused without meaning to. After an instant, he glanced over his shoulder, searching Saloman’s veiled, dark eyes. They looked bland, perhaps slightly amused. And yet Maximilian didn’t make the mistake of believing there was no threat there. “You mean Mihaela,” he observed. “Why do you call her
my
hunter?”

“Because her scent still clings to you.”

Although Maximilian didn’t see him move, Saloman was suddenly brushing past him and climbing the stairs in front of him. “You know you’re playing with fire,” Saloman said conversationally. It could have meant anything.

“I’ve played with the fire,” Maximilian admitted.

“And how was that for you?” Saloman inquired with civility.

There was a distinct pause. Even Maximilian noticed. “It burned,” he said.

At the words, his loins seemed to flame all over again. He wanted her in his arms once more, to hold and bite and fuck. He wanted to see her laugh. He wanted her to smile at him while she came. And if he couldn’t have that—which he couldn’t—selfishly, he wanted her to remember. His lips tugged upward.
Oh yes, it burned. And it was good.

Chapter Ten

The Angel Club was notoriously easy to miss. Many people, including Mihaela herself, had walked up and down the narrow street several times without seeing it. The secret was in the stone angel above the door. It had been carved and enchanted by Maximilian himself, so the story went, before he disappeared over two hundred years ago—a parting gift for the beautiful vampiress who now owned the building and the club within.

By now, Mihaela knew to look out for the nondescript, grubby stone angel and stare at it until its beauty registered. It made her heart ache. Surely, surely you needed a soul to create such beauty, such an expression of sadness, compassion, and care…? And then the doorway beneath the angel became somehow more obvious and inviting.

God knew why. Although the angel hid its beauty behind masking enchantments, the door itself remained just as filthy and battered as ever, and when you pushed it open, the stairwell beyond was dark, dank, and dangerous, apparently not cleaned for several years. Mihaela had never entered the premises alone before, and even with the current uneasy truce between hunters and vampires, she knew her superiors would condemn her reckless behavior. But she had no choice. She was meant to be on leave. Konrad was too hostile to bring here; István was housebound; and Elizabeth… Well, Elizabeth lived in the same house as Maximilian. Probably. She didn’t know where Maximilian parked his coffin.

It didn’t matter. So far as Mihaela knew, the only violence which ever occurred at this club was that begun by the hunters themselves when they charged in to capture and kill Saloman—an operation that went badly wrong when Saloman escaped through the domed skylight with Elizabeth in his arms.

But although the edgier kind of humans found their way here for the sake of the music and the general atmosphere of unspecific danger, until recently, none of them had been aware of the undead nature of their fellow guests. Now, since things had begun to change under Saloman’s rule, it was possible some humans did come for the express purpose of observing or even meeting vampires—drawn by curiosity, perversion, risk, whatever. The Angel was, after all, the one place in the city, if not the world, where they could do so in relative safety, for biting and fighting were forbidden at the Angel. And as far as Mihaela was aware, even the most troublesome vampires stuck to the rule.

On the top landing, outside another insignificant, battered-looking door, lurked a large vampire. Mihaela didn’t need a detector to recognize him as such. It was in the way he moved, in the depth of his expressionless eyes, and in the way her skin crawled as she approached him. A young vampire, there largely to repel troublemaking humans, but nevertheless old enough to recognize a hunter.

Instinctive hostility sprang into his undead eyes as she marched up to him. She could almost see him remembering his club training.
Don’t eat the humans who come for a fight. Throw them down the stairs. If you see hunters, be nice. Killing them, even laying a finger on them, brings far more trouble than it’s worth. Plus, you get the sack.

“No weapons,” he growled at her, spreading his hands as if preparing for a body search.

“That doesn’t apply to me,” Mihaela said breezily, and apparently it didn’t, because he let her brush past him and push open the door. Just as well, because there was no way Mihaela was suffering his hands on her or entering a den of vampires without being armed to the teeth. As always, she carried a stake in each pocket, and in honor of this visit, she’d hidden extra ones up her sleeve and inside her boot.

The wall of noise hit her like a car crash. Wild, raucous rock music, played live on the basic stage.

It was a Friday night, and the club was busy with human visitors as well as vampires. There was, she noticed as she edged her way through to the bar, some mingling of the two races. A human girl was shouting into the ear of a tolerant vampire who could have heard a whisper with perfect clarity, even in this din. A group of vampires and humans sat together at one table. There was no way of telling if the humans were aware of the nature of their companions. Several dancing couples were mixed, some locked in a clinch that Mihaela hoped wouldn’t end badly for the human. It wouldn’t here, of course. But what if the human left with the vampire, invited him—or her—into her home?

She pulled herself up. She couldn’t worry about every human here, or every vampire.

The bar, which ran the entire length of one wall, was less crowded, save for the waiters and waitresses scurrying back and forth with trays full of drinks.

“What can I get you?” asked one of the barmen after only a moment’s wait. Like most of the staff, except the bouncers, he was human.

“Coffee, please,” Mihaela answered without thinking. Drinking and hunting mixed even more badly than drinking and driving. On the other hand, in this place, it was hardly natural behavior. “And a red wine,” she added hastily with a quick smile into the barman’s surprised face. “Long day,” she said by way of explanation. She found she didn’t need to shout. By some trick of the acoustics, lucky or deliberate, the bar area seemed less noisy than the entrance.

While the barman poured her wine and went in search of coffee, Mihaela turned and made a casual but thorough scan of the large, domed room, the dance floor, and the booths surrounding it. So far as she could see, there was no one she knew here, human or vampire.

“We’re honored by your presence,” said a pleasant, slightly husky female voice behind her. Mihaela spun back to face the bar in time to see the owner, Angyalka, place a cup of coffee in front of her. Although the vampire’s voice wasn’t without humor, she didn’t appear to be joking. Perhaps it was undead civility. “Is this business or pleasure?”

The vampiress had interesting eyes of a shade of blue so dark it was almost navy.

“A little of both, perhaps,” Mihaela answered. “I haven’t come to arrest anyone, if that’s what you mean.”

“My insurance is saved,” Angyalka said flippantly. Her pale nostrils twitched slightly; the faintest of frowns passed across her brow and vanished. “Then how can I help you?”

Mihaela took a sip of coffee, never letting her gaze drop from the vampiress’s, and decided to be direct. There was no time for anything else. She lowered the cup to its saucer. “I’m looking for a Romanian vampire called Gavril. Do you know him?”

“No, I don’t. But then, I probably wouldn’t tell you if I did.”

Mihaela sighed. “So much for détente. Would it help if I told you your friend Maximilian recently tried to kill Gavril?”

“You really don’t need to tell me anything about Maximilian.”

Now what did she mean by that? Was Angyalka warning her off? How laughable was that? Or did she actually
know
what had transpired between them in Maximilian’s cave? Did
all
the vampires know? Christ, why had it never entered her head that vampires could be that kind of asshole too?

Realizing that Angyalka was watching her, she tried to pull herself together. Which was difficult when she felt both numb from shock and burned up with embarrassment.

“You smell of him,” Angyalka said.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mihaela snapped, and the vampiress actually smiled. She appeared to be genuinely, infuriatingly, amused.

“It will fade in time. As for Maximilian,” she added, as though taking pity, “he was always a close-mouthed bastard. Now you’re lucky if he says anything at all.”

Mihaela blinked. She almost felt comforted. But Angyalka had moved on. “Gavril has never been here. But there are vampires in the city who’ve met him elsewhere. He never swore allegiance to either Zoltán or Saloman, and he’s ambitious in his own way. He’s coming of age, for a vampire, and flexing his muscles.”

“And you know all this how?”

Angyalka’s lips curved. “Saloman told me. There’s no need to do the spadework yourself. He and Maximilian will find the boy and Gavril. You should just talk to Elizabeth.” She picked up a clean glass and poured a measure of some thick, red liqueur into it. Mihaela hoped it wasn’t blood and looked hastily away. “It would be better,” Angyalka said, “than coming here.”

“Would it,” Mihaela uttered. It wasn’t a question. “Better for whom?”

“For you,” said Angyalka and sipped the liqueur. “There’s bad feeling for you here. Take care when you leave.”

Mihaela swung away, angry at being warned off, and damned if she’d leave now. She’d wander around the club and hope to pick up something more useful. And yet she hadn’t taken more than two steps before Angyalka’s voice stayed her.

“Mihaela. It isn’t personal. Someone’s prepared to pay a debt through you.”

Mihaela turned back. “A debt to Gavril? Who?”

The vampiress smiled. “It doesn’t matter.”

Silently, Mihaela begged to differ. But if Angyalka wouldn’t tell her, there was only one way to find out. Leave.

“It’s always a revelation coming here,” she said as she set her glass back down on the bar. “Good night.”

As she walked out, she imagined hundreds of eyes burning into her back with hatred and hostility. She didn’t mind that. Her own expression would be much the same if she only faced the other way. It took more than Saloman’s law to change the feelings of hundreds of years. What did make the hairs on the back of her head stand up was the possibility that one such pair of eyes belonged to somebody prepared to do something about it, not to relieve his own instincts but because Gavril wanted her dead.

As the door slammed behind her, the noise cut off like a switch, and the silence seemed to scream in her ears instead. There was no sign of the bouncer now. Perhaps he’d gone to wait for her outside the premises. He had mean eyes and was probably exactly the sort of weak, stupid creature that would be likely to do the bidding of Gavril.

By the dim light of the feeble, bare electric bulb that hung from the ceiling, Mihaela began to pick her way down the stairs, listening for the faintest sound of the upper door opening behind her or any sign that someone might be waiting for her in the street.

Every nerve felt stretched taut as she peered into the shadows ahead. She shook her right arm, and the stake hidden in her sleeve slid comfortingly into her palm. Damp mustiness filled her nostrils.

The shadow at the next bend didn’t move, and yet something about it wasn’t right.

It had eyes.

There had been no point in using a detector in a place like this. There were simply too many vampires for it to be any use. But she’d been hunting all her life, and every instinct shrieked vampire at her now.

Did this count as Angel territory? Would they really risk attacking here? Or was someone just watching her with hate in his undead eyes, like all those vampires in the club upstairs? Without pause, she walked steadily onward, ready to plunge the stake as soon as the attack came. If it came here. He was more likely to follow her outside.

She kept walking until she drew almost level with the shadow. Still, it didn’t move. She took one step more and at the same time turned to stare directly at the still figure who lurked against the wall.

He stirred at last. She whipped up her stake, but the vampire had only emerged from the blackness to show his face.

Gray eyes glinting silver in the dim light. A mass of untidy dark hair falling forward across his pale, lean face. Maximilian.

Her body remembered him, the cool, silky feel of his skin as he moved against her, in her, undulating, caressing, pushing into her as she came so hard she’d been unsure of survival. Those pale eyes had watched her with the sort of avidity and heat she’d never even imagined in a vampire. The silver sparks had intensified when he climaxed, glowing like stars in a clear night sky. Stupid, stupid imagination. Even stupider memory. It had never been about romance, or even about simple, blatant animal lust. At least, not for him.

Even now, he didn’t trouble to speak, just kept his gaze riveted to her face. And since she couldn’t read his eyes, she looked at his mouth, sensual, almost sculpted into his handsome face. God, what he could do with that mouth…

Drink your blood! Move on, idiot.

She walked on wordlessly, and he made no effort to stop her. Her whole spine prickled as she finished her journey to the foot of the stairs. It took an unbearably long time, using the same slow, even pace as before, just because she refused to let him see he’d disturbed her.

What the hell was he doing here anyway? A night club hardly seemed the right place for an isolated, reclusive vampire, however friendly with the hostess. Was he here for Angyalka? And why the hell did that lurch of
something
feel so much like jealousy?

Mihaela wasn’t a jealous woman. She’d never had reason to be.

At last, she reached the bottom of the stairs and quickened her pace so that when she wrenched open the door, she almost burst into the street, catapulting herself across the pavement to the road.

It saved her life. As she spun back to face the door, she realized there had been a vampire at either side of it, tracking her slow, even exit so that her sudden burst of speed had taken them by surprise. But they were vampires and had their own speed, and they were rushing on her for the kill.

She leapt, kicking out at the first with enough force to knock him backward. Not as far backward as she’d have liked, for her opponent was unexpectedly strong, but at least it gave her that extra instant to even the odds by plunging her stake into the second attacker’s heart.

She never made that either. He blocked it on his arm and reached for her throat. She evaded him by flipping backward and kicking him in the chest with both feet. His flight was certainly more satisfying than his companion’s, but she had no time to celebrate.

Her hair was suddenly yanked back, and she fell hard against the first vampire. He shoved her head to one side as he plunged for her jugular, while his friend rushed across to share the tasty hunter meal.

Mihaela elbowed her captor, kicking him hard enough to have broken a human’s knee. But although it made the vampire grunt, he didn’t loosen his grip. Mihaela stabbed the stake into his head, which did at least elicit a scream, although by then the other vampire was upon her too. And a third leapt in from nowhere, yanking the bleeding vampire off her and hurling him at the wall of the Angel.