Blood Guilt (13 page)

The third vampire moved in a blur, but she knew. She knew it was Maximilian.

However, there was no time to analyze his presence, for the second vampire struck her in the side of the face and caught her to him. Although pain and dizziness engulfed her, they weren’t enough to dull her training. She kneed him in the groin, knocked the blunt end of her stake into his chin to throw his head up, then spun the stake around and plunged it straight into his heart.

He vanished into dust. Through the scattering particles, she saw Maximilian had the remaining, still-bleeding vampire by the throat, pinned to the Angel wall. The weaker vampire didn’t appear able to move, but his mouth was open and contorted, as if in some silent plea for help. Whatever Maximilian was doing to him hurt. A lot.

“Wait!” Mihaela gasped. “Don’t kill him! I need information from him!”

“I’m getting it,” Maximilian said grimly, and the vampire in his hold screamed, trying desperately to jerk his head free. Maximilian shoved him harder against the wall, bashing his head so viciously that blood spattered in a fan shape across the stone.

Maximilian’s gaze seemed to bore into the other’s face as if he was rummaging in his brain. And with a shock, Mihaela realized that was exactly what he
was
doing, irresistibly and without mercy or pity.

Maximilian’s head swooped for his neck, and an instant later, the vampire exploded.

Maximilian straightened. She couldn’t even see blood on his teeth.

“He owed Gavril for help in a vendetta forty years ago. Gavril wants you out of the way before you interfere with his plans again.”

He spoke quietly, casually, as if describing something as mundane as a restaurant menu. Mihaela swallowed. “Me? Not you?” Just as Angyalka had warned her…

Maximilian shrugged. “He couldn’t hurt me. Gavril knew that.”

“Well, he was taking a chance hurting me. Even before Saloman, very few were stupid enough to attack us.” And if he’d survived this fight, he’d have had Saloman to deal with. According to Elizabeth.

“The stakes are high,” Maximilian said. “And they obviously believe Saloman’s stock is about to fall.”

Unexpectedly, he caught her chin between his fingers, and before she could even jerk away from him, turned her face up for his scrutiny. “He bruised your face.”

“Occupational hazard,” Mihaela muttered. And then, since he neither let her go nor spoke, she said impatiently, “What are you even doing here?”

“Angyalka told me you were here.”

Mihaela stared. It had started to snow again, and he looked incongruously underdressed in his jeans and T-shirt. “You were going to ask me to dance?”

“I was going to save you from
them
.” He jerked his head to where the vampires’ dust had once lingered. “But we can dance now if you like.”

“I’m not going back in there. I’ve had enough vampire hospitality for one night.” It was a downright refusal, and yet her breath caught in her throat, as if fighting the words.

The club door burst open, and a group of raucous humans fell out. Maximilian swore under his breath. But the revelers ignored them, turning their backs and kicking through the snow as they slipped and skidded down the hill.

“It doesn’t have to be in there,” Maximilian said. Without further warning, he wrapped one arm around her waist and jumped.

It took a second to realize what was happening as the wind rushed through her hair, battering her whole body. Although only her stomach felt as if it were flying, all of her
was
. In panic, she clutched at him, but by then, they’d landed on the roof of the Angel, close to the glass dome through which Saloman had once escaped.

“Christ,” she gasped. “I didn’t know you could do that!”

“There are many things I can do that you don’t know.” He might have been flirting. It was hard to tell. Certainly, his intent gaze never left her face, even as he turned her slightly and waved one arm in the vague direction of the horizon. His other arm was firm, even warm at her back as he appeared to show her the view.

From here, you could see right over to the Danube and the rest of the city beyond. Budapest in the snow. The sheer beauty, the sheer scale of the view, tugged at her heart, much as the revealed angel carving had done earlier. Everyday wonders that she never saw because she was so busy following her serious, purpose-filled life.
What a waste…

She stood perfectly still until she got herself back under control. Maximilian didn’t seem to mind the silence. Nor did he take advantage of it.

But her life was still full of purpose. She said, “Do you know where he is?”

His hair, scattered with snowflakes like the picture on some sexy Christmas card, stirred in the breeze. His arm fell away from her, and she suddenly felt the full chill of the night.

“Still with Gavril,” he said. “And three others, two of whom were in Scotland with him. I’m still searching.” He took something from his jeans pocket—the stone compass—and crouching down, he plunged his free hand into the snow, presumably until it hit the stone base of the glass dome. “They’re taking him outside tonight. I need to find a link.”

It seemed a ridiculous concept, that crouching on a snowy roof with a compass in one hand could possibly discover a child hundreds or even thousands of miles away. She opened her mouth to say so, but before she could, his dark eyebrows shot up. His eyes were fixed on the stone compass, and his sensual lips curved into a smile.

“Got him,” he murmured. “At last.”

Mihaela stepped forward, instinctively trying to see the pointing needle. It seemed to flicker crazily in the erratic light from the dome. Maximilian rose slowly with effortless grace, bringing his body upright, far too close to hers. Before she could step back, he stretched out his hand, holding the compass at arm’s length, resting his forearm lightly on her shoulder, as if for steadiness. Excitement soared. She was afraid to move in case it caused Robbie to disappear again. In case it made Maximilian step away from her.

Slowly, Maximilian lifted his other arm, rested it on her other shoulder, as if he now held the compass in both hands. And gradually, his gaze shifted to her face, to her lips, and her eyes. She couldn’t read minds. But she was sure he was remembering what they’d done in his cave. She could see her own wicked excitement reflected in his eyes, and it stunned her.

Robbie. Focus on Robbie.

“Where is he?” she got out. Her voice sounded husky.

“South,” said Maximilian. “I need a map.” And with one of his shocking changes in speed, he simply swept her up and ran off the roof. She closed her eyes in instinctive terror and felt his cheek pressed to her forehead, and then, for an instant, his mouth took hers.

It might have been the crazy, flying jump that jumbled her stomach. Or it might have been the fleeting kiss that ended even before he landed and let her feet slip back to the ground. His body was just as hard and lean as she remembered it. She came to rest against the blatant bulge of his erection.

He released her slowly, and she realized all over again how bloody cold she was. She shivered, blinking to clear her head, and saw, belatedly, that his body had tensed, the muscles bunching to spring.

Three vampires glided out of the shadows and stopped in the middle of the street. One female, who looked like a punk version of a dancing girl from Toulouse Lautrec, and two men, fit and armed to the teeth with knives, swords, and stakes they didn’t even trouble to mask.

Oh shit…
Boy, did Gavril want her dead. She should be flattered. Instead of scared shitless that he could command this level of support.

But one of the vampires spoke, and it wasn’t her name.

“Maximilian,” he said. And he didn’t just incline his blond head. He
bowed.

Allegiance. He was offering Maximilian allegiance.

Her head reeled at this new development. Was this the real reason Maximilian had come back to Budapest? Or was he planning to use the kudos of stopping Gavril’s plans in order to further his own ambitions and topple Saloman? And how the hell was she supposed to feel about any of this?

Although she hadn’t sensed his movement, there was a good twelve inches now between her and Maximilian. Somehow, he seemed
bigger
, more threatening than she’d ever seen him, even during the actual act of killing. Her throat dried up. For the first time in her dealings with him, he looked every inch the vampire who’d commanded all the turbulent undead of Eastern Europe for several decades.

He stood still, straight, and loose-limbed. His eyes were cold and implacable, his expression unreadable apart from the faintly contemptuous curl to his lip.

He said, “You bow to Saloman.”

“We bowed,” the blond vampire said deliberately, “to you.”

Maximilian flew at him in a blur. She didn’t even see how the fair vampire hit the ground, but she saw Maximilian plunge his own stake into his heart. And then, through the undead dust, he was on his feet, spinning to face the other two who stared at him in shock.

He took one pace forward, and they fled.

Slowly, Maximilian lowered his arm and dropped the stake. It fell to the ground with a clatter as he turned and walked back across the road to her.

“What the hell…?” she managed.

“I’m sorry. No one was meant to know I came to the Angel. But I unmasked to frighten your late friends away.” He jerked one hand behind him. “
They
must have tracked me here.”

“But—why?”

An oddly tired, cynical smile touched his eyes and lips. “They were offering me their support against Saloman. Look on the bright side. It could have been the others.”

“What others?” she demanded, bewildered.

“The ones who want to kill me. Vampires have long memories to go with their long existence. I annoyed a lot of them when I led the east European vampires. I annoyed even more when I lost to Zoltán and walked away.”

She began to understand why he stayed away. Now he was the center of a maelstrom that wouldn’t leave him. A tool for the discontented against the rule of Saloman and a focus of anger and vengeance from the past.

She swallowed. “What will you do?”

He shrugged. “I just sent a message. It might be enough.”

She could tell he didn’t believe it.

His lips quirked. “Word is out. You need to be away from me right now. Well away.”

Before she could answer, he’d spun around and was running up the hill. The distance yawned between them as she pulled her thoughts together.

“Wait!” she yelled after him. “Where is he? Where’s Robbie?”

“I’ll tell you,” he said over his shoulder and disappeared from view.

Chapter Eleven

When Maximilian charged into Saloman’s study, he was vaguely aware of disturbing another quiet moment between his creator and the Awakener. They seemed to be having a lot of those recently, but right now Maximilian had more important things on his mind.

At least they weren’t actually coupling. Not that this would have embarrassed either Maximilian or Saloman—vampires were quite open about their sexual proclivities—but Elizabeth’s outrage might well have made marching in and demanding an atlas rather more difficult than it turned out to be.

Saloman took his head from Elizabeth’s lap and rose to help him locate one.

“You’ve found the child,” he observed, walking across to the largest bookcase where Maximilian was already scanning the shelves with impatience.

“I got a reading,” Maximilian said. “From the top of the Angel of all unlikely places.”

“I thought you hated the noise,” Elizabeth said provokingly. She sat curled up on one of the chaise longues, her glorious, strawberry-blonde hair loose about her shoulders. She wore a full, soft skirt that flowed over her knees and the cushions around her, and looked relaxed and beautiful and sexy. Even in the midst of his urgent mission, Maximilian could understand some of what bound Saloman to her.

“I didn’t go in,” he said. “I just killed a couple of vampires outside.”

“Shouldn’t you clap him in irons or something?” Elizabeth suggested to Saloman.

“One was trying to kill Mihaela,” Maximilian explained as he grabbed the atlas from Saloman’s hands and threw it onto the table in front of him. He flicked through the pages, ignoring Elizabeth’s demands for reassurance of Mihaela’s safety, until he found the large map of Budapest. While Saloman soothed her, Maximilian laid the stone compass on the page, and worked out more exact coordinates.

Then, with Saloman at his shoulder and Elizabeth peering across the table, he turned the pages until he found southern Europe and the Mediterranean. With a snatched-up pencil, he followed the line south from Budapest, across the Mediterranean, through the island of Malta to Africa. Then, slowly, he brought the pencil back to Malta.

Robbie. Robbie, are you there? This old site full of stones that they took you to, did it look anything like this?
He sent the boy a mind-image of a Maltese prehistoric site he’d once visited in the dim and distant past. He’d wondered then if it was older than Saloman, although it had always seemed impolite to ask.

Yes, that sort of thing
, Robbie said excitedly.
The stones were old, so old they seemed to speak to you.

He’d said that before, which had made Maximilian think of some tribal stone icon in Africa imbued with magic, but this, this made a lot more sense. Why strike at the third world when you could hit the first with much more obvious impact?

Then I think I’ve found you
, Maximilian said.

“Malta?” Elizabeth said doubtfully. She stood up and walked around the table for a closer look. “He’s in Malta? You can tell that just from standing on the roof of the Angel? Through some connection of stone and rock running across the continent and under the sea?”

“Something like that.” He exchanged looks with Saloman as they both thought of the pattern of fault lines running around the Mediterranean. It was possible Gavril planned to open up another, splitting off from the main fault, to run right through the island. A tidal wave stemming from that could sweep through many shores with utterly devastating effect, not only killing thousands but damaging vibrant, important economies. The whole world would be affected one way or another. And even worse was the idea that they could move on and do it again.

“They could kill most of humanity this way,” Maximilian said slowly. “Eventually… Reduce the numbers so much that they could keep the survivors as servants and pets to feed off. I saw something like that in Gavril’s mind, only it didn’t make any sense then. It was too jumbled and angry to come over as more than hatred and fantasy. Plus I didn’t know if he was just trying to throw me off the scent.”

Elizabeth sank down onto one of the hard chairs by the table. “But—but this is unthinkable mass murder! Slaughter, genocide, even… I thought they just wanted to piss Saloman off.”

“Oh, that
would
piss me off,” Saloman said coldly. “It’s Max’s job to ensure it doesn’t.”

Maximilian nodded. For many reasons, most of which had nothing to do with Saloman’s displeasure, he had every intention of ensuring this disaster never happened.

Still deep in thought, he was vaguely aware of Saloman and Elizabeth exchanging glances, as though surprised he accepted the responsibility so easily. He took a moment to say, “I was coming back.” And when they glanced at him, he added awkwardly, “When this all happened, I’d already decided to come back.”

Saloman held his gaze. But it was Elizabeth who asked curiously, “Did the decision make you happier?”

The question surprised him. Elizabeth, like just about everyone else, had always regarded him with wary suspicion. He certainly didn’t expect so trivial a thing as his happiness to concern her.

“Sort of,” he said before he meant to. And then, because there was no reason for secrecy, because secrecy had been at the root of all the troubles he’d caused and suffered, he added with difficulty, “I was relieved. I knew I couldn’t hide any longer. But if you want the truth, most of me was scared.” So scared he’d got vilely drunk and let himself be overcome by far weaker vampires. If it hadn’t been for Mihaela, he wouldn’t be here.

Saloman said nothing. He didn’t need to. He knew exactly how scared Maximilian had been.

“Scared of what?” Elizabeth asked. “Of getting caught up again in the ambitions that made you betray him?”

He wasn’t blind to the challenge in her rather beautiful hazel eyes. He heard the resentment in her voice quite clearly. Oddly, he was glad of these things, because they proved her love for Saloman. And because she spoke so easily of the guilt that had crushed his spirit and kept his mind and his tongue knotted up for so long. And yet she had no real idea what his return to the world necessarily entailed, nor the deep, corroding boredom with which he faced it.

“Yes,” he said. “Of getting caught up again in ambition of any kind.”

Saloman’s hand gripped his shoulder, and for the first time, he felt he could bear the kindness. Elizabeth’s eyes seemed to clear. She wasn’t exactly won over, but she sensed the truth behind his answer.

“So what changed?” she asked shrewdly.

Maximilian’s lips tugged upward. “I learned a little about courage. From a human.”

The human he’d left in Scotland for no reason, as it turned out, since by the time she’d caught up with him, he’d been no nearer to finding Robbie. Ignoring the light of curiosity in Elizabeth’s face, he said abruptly, “What would the hunters do with the boy?”

Elizabeth blinked. “Return him to his family, I suppose. Or arrange some other safe home, whichever is most suitable. Why?”

Maximilian turned away, gathering up the atlas. “He could be a powerful weapon.”

“The hunters don’t use children like that!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

He spared her a glance. “Don’t they?”

Her mouth, opened to protest, closed on silence. She looked curiously stricken, as if she’d never thought of Mihaela’s or any other hunter’s training like that before.

Maximilian said, “Hunters are chosen from the survivors of vampire attacks or from witnesses. It’s always been that way. The protection, the counseling, and ultimately the training they receive is very similar to brainwashing.”

“I never found that at all!” Elizabeth protested. “They looked after me.”

Maximilian shrugged. Humans, even the best of them, could be ridiculously blind. “You kept escaping them. You weren’t too afraid to live without them.”

Saloman said, “As détente develops, there will be no need of weapons between us. We work with the hunters on this.”

It should have appalled Maximilian. Instead, a deep, fierce excitement rose up in him. And he knew that even without Saloman’s command, he’d have taken Mihaela with him this time. He’d found he couldn’t stay away from her. And after all, he’d promised to tell her where Robbie was.

He’d left her at the Angel, but he could find her again very easily now that he’d marked her. And the need to do so was overwhelming.

****

It wasn’t the sort of building he’d have associated with her: a bright, modern apartment block in a pleasant, leafy part of the city. But her scent was so strong here, it had to be her home. It was after midnight, and the block was quiet, mostly in darkness.

No light burned in Mihaela’s second floor flat. But although he could see no sign of her, he could smell her: her strong, sweet hunter blood; the clean, herbal scent of her hair and skin; something too elusive to name that was pure Mihaela. He thought, concentrating on her, on the steady beat of her heart and her even breath, that she was asleep.

Did she sleep naked? Or in some skimpy piece of silk that would emphasize her curves and the lithe flexibility of her strong, succulent body? The stolen blood in his veins pumped faster. He wanted her. Wanted her so badly that he might not be able to jump for the inconvenient hardness in his jeans.

He’d lived for decades, centuries, without a woman, and yet, after a few hours with her, his sexual need was so urgent that it was a constant pain.

It didn’t have to be Mihaela. He knew he could convince any woman he chose. Glamorous, beautiful human women who knew exactly how to please a man and could easily be taught to please a vampire. Powerful vampiresses, even Angyalka, would be happy to oblige him. But somehow, none of them, friend or stranger, had the allure of the damaged hunter. And he knew she needed the release too, eager, passionate and sensual as she was.
Oh yes.

Maximilian jumped.

The sill was narrow and the window locks strong enough to make him exert himself to burst them open. Nevertheless, he was inside two minutes later, closing the window behind him. The apartment was silent. No sounds of modern life, like television, computer or radio. No sound of human movement.

He was in a bedroom—not Mihaela’s. It was too bare and unlived-in, although there was a picture on the wall, and a small vase of artificial flowers on the chest of drawers.

He crossed the room to the half-open door and walked through to the hallway, which was carpeted and painted white like the bedroom. He wandered into the room opposite—a larger, comfortable space with a big sofa and two armchairs. A dark wood dining table was folded away in a corner. A vase of fresh-cut flowers adorned the window sill. A television stared at him blankly, and a laptop computer had been abandoned on the coffee table, but apart from an empty coffee mug balanced on the arm of one chair and a pair of smart shoes half-hidden behind the door, there was no mess. It was a clean, comfortable, uncluttered room, a little like a homely, family-run hotel. It made him uneasy, unsatisfied, because there was nothing of Mihaela here. He could almost have believed he was in the wrong apartment.

The carpets and curtains were all muted shades, the walls all white. Only the pictures on the wall supplied splashes of color. At least they were good, whether abstract or more traditional, both tasteful and passionate, and the first he’d glimpsed of Mihaela in her own home.

Mihaela. His curiosity satisfied for now, he followed her scent to her bedroom door. Excitement galloped, holding him in a surprisingly urgent grip. He’d kept his emotions dormant too long; they wanted to erupt now, and he reveled in the possibilities that he’d run from for so long.

Although he fully expected to indulge in a little intoxicating persuasion, he had no desire to frighten her. He turned the handle of the door slowly and pushed it open as he walked into the dark room. He’d even opened his mouth to call to her, softly, to warn her of his presence, when the door suddenly swung back with severe force, crashing into his head.

But not to shut him out. Taking advantage of his astonishment, his assailant jerked the door forward again, wrenching the handle from his grip, and something flew at him. His back was against the wall, a hard forearm across his throat, and a lethal wooden stake whizzed toward his heart.

Mihaela’s large eyes stared into his with cold, implacable hatred.

So the grappling would happen a little earlier than he’d intended. It amused him, even though he had to move as fast as he ever had to knock up her hand and save his own existence. But even before he touched her, he saw recognition dawn in her face. She even tried to halt the force of her murderous thrust. She couldn’t, of course. It was Maximilian who knocked it out of her hand in a movement she could have only seen as a blur.

A sound of anguish seemed to be torn from her throat as she leapt back, staring at him through the darkness that was no hindrance to him.

“No! No! No!” she uttered, her hand clutching at her hair as if she’d pull it out by the roots. Her mouth twisted; her eyes flashed with fury. That, he expected. What threw him was that the hatred was still there, exemplified a hundred times. “You’re in my
house
! You total, utter
bastard
! Get out of here, get
out
!”

She flew at him like an angry witch once had in his youth. Without the stake, she made use of her fists and feet and knees, and they were all fast, hard, and well-aimed. He threw his arms around her and dropped to the floor, using his body as once before, to pin her there while he captured her hands and held them above her head.

Christ, she was beautiful, and so desirable it made his heart, his whole being ache. Her eyes spat and sparkled with fury; her chest heaved deliciously as she panted for breath and strength to resist. She wore only a T-shirt in bed, it seemed, for he could see the outline of her breasts and even the peaks of her nipples quite clearly. And beneath the rucked-up garment, from the hips down, she was totally naked.

Desire surged. He wanted to take her at once. Push into her and absorb the storm of her anger in pure, glorious passion. But he didn’t. Because he suddenly realized the sparkles in her eyes were unshed tears, and that one had already escaped to roll down her right cheek and disappear into the mass of her black hair.