Midnight's Daughter Page 13

  Drac’s face twisted. “He doesn’t need one. He has always been able to persuade others to fall on their swords for him. Our father sent Radu and I to the Turks, but his precious heir was kept safely by his side. Mircea lived like a prince while Radu whored himself to get out of the dungeons and I was tortured every day for years!” I didn’t need to complain about the lack of emotion now. His eyes were glowing with it. “Even death worked in Mircea’s favor,” he spat. “When the treacherous dogs of the nobility lynched him, he was saved—by the very curse meant to destroy him!”

  I stared into incandescent green eyes and finally understood. What I’d put down to madness was sounding a lot more like out-of-control jealousy. Even weirder, I could sort of relate. Mircea always seemed so sure of his place in the world: he was Mircea Basarab, scion of a noble house and prince of the supernatural world. He wore the assurance of his worth like a cloak, while the bastard he’d sired shivered in the cold. “He always lands on his feet,” I said, and not all the bitterness in my voice was fake.

  “Not this time.” In a flash, Drac’s face was once again a bland mask. He regarded me narrowly. “As astonishing as it is, we have something in common, Dorina. One man has plagued both our lives for far too long. He made you the abomination that you are, doomed to live forever alone, shunned, an outcast, while he condemned me to an existence of perpetual suffering for a single mistake.”

  I badly wanted to ask what he meant, but bit my lip to stay quiet. Questioning Drac was a risky business. You never knew when he would decide he’d had enough and start amusing himself other ways.

  “I do not expect you to undertake the risk of challenging him,” I was told. “I merely require you to bring both of my brothers together in one place. Somewhere away from the Senate and the protection of this MAGIC enclave. I will do the rest.” He thought for a moment, steepling his hands like a bad impression of Sherlock Holmes. “A private residence would be best, somewhere secluded. Mircea’s home in Washington State would be perfect, and rather fitting. With the surrounding forest, it resembles the old country.”

  The conversation was getting pretty surreal. Mircea and I weren’t what could be called close, and I’d threatened many times, loudly and in public, to kill him. But this was the first time anyone had ever taken me seriously. Did Drac think I hated Mircea as badly as he did? Had he honestly forgotten London, or did he think a century had blunted my memory? I repressed a shudder. That wasn’t the sort of thing that slipped your mind. Not in a century, not ever.

  “I don’t think it’s too likely,” I commented blandly.

  “There is a problem?” Drac asked, almost politely.

  “Yeah. Mircea isn’t in Washington right now. The last time I saw him was in New York a few days ago, but I got the impression he wasn’t planning to be there long. And he’s not in Vegas. He’s on some mission for the Senate—I’m not sure what—but with a war on, I doubt he’s going home anytime soon.”

  “Plausible.” Drac thought for a moment. “And Radu?”

  I didn’t hesitate. Radu and company had a four-hour head start, not to mention a Senate escort. Telling the truth simply meant one fewer hurdle—how to get news of the move to Drac. “You might have more luck there. Radu is moving to his place and I’ve been invited along as bodyguard until another team can be assembled to replace the one you killed.”

  “Why does he leave MAGIC’s embrace now, knowing I chase him?” Drac looked at me shrewdly. “Did you hope, little dhampir, that I would come after him myself?”

  “The thought did occur to me, yeah.” There was no point denying it; no other explanation would make sense.

  “And Radu’s ‘place’ would be where?”

  “He’s never invited me over for dinner, so I haven’t actually seen it. But it’s in California, some old winery he bought for a song back in the sixties.”

  “Why does he think he will be safe there?”

  I couldn’t deny knowledge of this, either. As Radu’s bodyguard, there was no way I’d have let him choose that location unless I had researched it and determined that it could withstand an attack. “Mircea’s a Senate member. He has a lot of enemies, and Radu has always been seen as his weak link. Some major wards have been put up there, almost as good as MAGIC can boast, just in case anyone tries to get at Mircea through his brother.”

  Drac did not do anything as human as relax back against his chair, but he somehow gave the impression of pleasure anyway. “Good. Then he believes himself secure. As his protector, you will have reason to inquire into the precise nature of these wards. You will communicate that information to me and arrange to have both of my brothers there at the same time.”

  I fidgeted. “What if that isn’t possible? I told you, I don’t know where Mircea is. Not to mention that he isn’t likely to come running at my call. I could maybe find out about the wards, but—”

  “I have other ways past the wards, Dorina,” Drac said, and although he didn’t introduce his mage friends, we both knew whom he was talking about. “Your information will make things easier, but it alone will not buy your life. An easier death, perhaps, but no more. I want Mircea.”

  I swallowed. “What reason can I give him, assuming I can find him? He doesn’t completely trust me—”

  “Of course not. My brother is not a fool.”

  “But you realize that makes things somewhat—”

  I never saw the blow coming, didn’t even feel it land. The first clue I had that maybe I was asking too many questions was when my body connected with the wall in a sickening thud. I slid down the tasteful beige wallpaper as a dark figure crossed my blurred vision. “If you wish to live, you will manage. I will be waiting for your call. Do not disappoint me.”

  One of the annoyances of being a dhampir is that your body just keeps on going. I guess it’s a precaution, to be able to push on in really tough situations, but there are times when you need a good faint. The trip back from Drac’s was one of them.

  I suppose his boys figured he wouldn’t be likely to object if they emphasized his point a bit more, since he had come close to bashing my brains out himself. As a result, by the time they finally left me in an alley behind a strip club, I was really wishing I could go off to la-la land until my body started to repair some of the damage. But no.

  I would have groaned, but my mouth seemed unusually full of tongue. I tried to lift my head, but it appeared to be welded to something rough beneath my cheek that reeked of old garbage and urine. I finally forced my puffy eyes open and squinted the world into focus through a curtain of lashes.

  Dirty water was trickling down a brick wall. I lay in front of some trash cans, bleeding onto a couple of rotting cabbages. Well, that explained part of the smell. A guy darted into the alley, relieved himself against the wall, saw me and ran off. And that explained the rest.

  The club’s overhanging roof dripped a steady stream of rainwater onto my upturned face. It tasted like tar, and burned whenever it came into contact with one of my various cuts. After a few minutes thinking about the last time I’d ended up in this much pain, and how I’d fervently promised myself never to be that stupid again, I decided to sit up. This required batting away a couple of cats, who’d been hissing at me for blocking their way to the scrap heap, and a lot of swearing. The broken ribs flowering blue and purple through my ripped top didn’t like my new position, but I was damned if I’d lie in a trash-filled alley all night, shivering and feeling sorry for myself. By the time I managed a sort of leaning stance against one of the aluminum cans, I had moved past the pain to a nice, slow burn.

  If Daddy dearest had listened to me, none of us would be in this position now. And if Radu had bothered to bestir himself just once during Drac’s imprisonment, he could have killed the son of a bitch before he had a chance to get out again. Neither of them deserved me getting a paper cut on his behalf, much less my current state. If there was any way to get to Claire without playing these games, I’d have dragged my battered self off
and left them to fend for themselves. I could always go on the hunt again later, after she was safe. And if I was lucky, someone would stake Drac for me in the meantime.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t have a clue where to find her, and without the Senate’s formidable resources, I didn’t hold out much hope for a rescue. Especially now that my special-weapons collection was sitting on zero. Drac had taken my backpack as well as the items I’d acquired from Benny’s case, leaving me without a stake to my name.

  I picked a banana peel out of my hair, wincing as my strained muscles put on a vehement protest. It felt like half the ligaments in my shoulders either were out of commission or wished they were, probably the result of having one vamp almost pull them out of their sockets holding me in place for another to pummel. I could only hope I wasn’t going to be in a fight anytime soon. But I couldn’t afford to hole up somewhere and bleed for a few hours. I had people to see, and the first name on my list wasn’t hard to find.

  The Strip was alive with flame, from the fireworks detonating overhead to the casino-sponsored floats, each of which seemed bent on outdoing in gaudiness and patriotism everyone else. And, on the Fourth of July, that translated into fire—a lot of it. The red, white and blue bunting surrounding Dante’s entrant in the patriotic parade went up in flame as I watched.

  Dante’s, Vegas’ premier vamp-owned casino, also happens to be in the family, so to speak. Its current manager was sired by one of Mircea’s less-reputable sons, and therefore might be expected to do me a favor. Assuming I could get to him before the float went to hell and took him with it.

  I ran forward and grabbed on to the side of the cheerfully burning float. It was designed to look like a pirate ship—never one to miss a trend, that was Dante’s—complete with skeleton crew. The crowd lining the Strip applauded and shook sparklers at the harried captain, while his supposedly loyal followers jumped ship. They were humans in black suits painted with iridescent silver. The only true member of the supernatural on board was still there, frozen in place at the mainmast, looking around with a panicked expression.

  I understood the look when the ornamental skulls securing the bunting started to detonate. No one else seemed to notice—things were exploding all over the place, after all—but the expression on the captain’s face was enough to tell me this wasn’t part of the show. Something slammed into the deck beside my hand and I yanked back. It was a burning arrow, the end covered in pitch. I hadn’t seen anything like it for centuries. What the hell?

  “Casanova!” I yelled to be heard over the fireworks, which were erupting from two barrels on either side of the deck, and the crowd, which was shrieking in delight. A human wouldn’t have heard me, but then, the captain wasn’t one.

  A swarthy face that looked right at home with the puffy shirt and eye patch peered at me over the edge of the crow’s nest, where he’d fled in terror. He tossed messy black curls back over his shoulder and groaned dramatically. “Oh, God. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse.”

  It’s always good to be remembered. “I have to ask you something!”

  “Now?!”

  “That’s the idea.” I hopped on board just as the ship started weaving back and forth across the roadway. I crawled across the burning deck as fast as possible with the ship listing this way and that. Luckily, most of the props seemed to have been fastened down.

  I grabbed the rigging and started up, only to have an arrow suddenly appear in front of my eyes, still quivering as it stuck out of the mast. I blinked at it, and a second later I was dangling over the burning deck by one arm. Casanova gave a heave, and I landed half in, half out of the crow’s nest as a barrage of arrows slammed into the wood all around me. Another heave and he’d dragged me into the relative safety of the oversized basket at the top of the mast. The crowd cheered wildly on both sides.

  When I got my breath back, I looked up to find him doing something with the mass of switches and wires jumbled together on one side of the nest. “You could make me feel much better by telling me this is all part of the show.”

  “And you could make me feel much better by telling me that whoever is shooting at us is pissed off at you,” he replied, frantically meshing wires.

  “Sorry, not this time.” Whoever was attacking the float had already been shooting at him when I arrived. For once, it looked like someone else was the target.

  I ducked as another arrow flew overhead, taking out the skull and crossbones flag right over our heads. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to shut down the fireworks. This thing is loaded with them, and if they all go at once…”

  “Okay, then. Maybe I better ask you that question now.”

  “Dorina!” The yell came from somewhere in the crowd. I caught sight of an auburn head weaving its way toward us and swore. How the hell had he found me?

  “I need weapons,” I told Casanova in a rush. “A lot of them.”

  He glared at me as another barrel of fireworks exploded below, showering the deck and half the street with bright blue sparks. “And you’re telling me this because?”

  “Because your old boss was a member in good standing of the vampire Mafia! You’ve probably got more weapons stashed away than the freaking Senate.”

  “Dorina!” I ignored the very pissed-off vampire yelling at me from what now sounded like the deck. What he thought he was doing down there amid enough fire to roast a few dozen of his kind, I didn’t know. Maybe he really was crazy.

  “And your point is?” Casanova had given up on the wires and was peering over the edge of the crow’s nest fearfully.

  “The rumor is, your boss recently skipped town. He’s not going to be fighting a war anytime soon. So help a gal out here. I can make you a list—”

  “Save it. Go see your usual suppliers.” Casanova grabbed a handful of rigging and swarmed to the deck as easily as a seasoned sailor. I grabbed a piece of wood from the side of the nest, snapped off a piece to make a point and followed on his heels.

  “My usual supplier is out of business.” Permanently.

  “Then go plague someone else’s life!”

  “I’m plaguing yours.”

  “I noticed,” Casanova snarled, glaring at my makeshift stake and doing a mad sort of dance across the deck to avoid the hot spots.

  I would have followed, but a hand encircled my arm. “What are you doing here?”

  “What are you?” I collapsed to the deck, taking Louis-Cesare with me. A piece of burning sailcloth swept through the air, right where he’d been standing. “I thought I told you to stay with Radu.”

  “You told me nothing. Nor did you explain where you were going or when you would return! You stole a very expensive Senate vehicle and left, that was all.”

  “I talked to your sire,” I said, trying not to sound defensive. It wasn’t like I owed him an explanation. “And you’re avoiding the question.”

  “I came after you!” he said, with a pretty good glare considering that he was pressed flat to the deck. “You informed Radu that you were going to Las Vegas to spread rumors of our activities. I thought it unlikely that Mircea would appreciate my allowing an adherent of his house to walk into a war zone to talk with the disreputable types likely to have Lord Dracula’s ear!” He took in my dishevelment with a sneer. “It seems my fears were justified.”

  “And yet who is rescuing whom?” I pointed out, trying to restrain the need to pop him in the mouth.

  “I do not see a rescue,” he said, pushing off from the floor. “I see you in a trap, in peril of your life.”

  “And you’re doing so much better?”

  “Dory! Some help here!” Casanova sounded less than his usual suave self. I jumped up before Louis-Cesare could grab me, and threw myself in the direction of his voice. If he got torched, my best chance to replace Benny’s stash went up in flames with him.

  I found him wedged into a small door in the deck, with only his head and shoulders visible. “Do you drive?” he demanded, sounding a
little shrill.

  “Drive what?”

  “This.” He jumped out of the hole, showing me a steering mechanism that, presumably, kept the float on course. Everything looked fine except for one slight problem.

  “Where’s the driver?”

  “Deserted, along with everyone else.”

  “Why?”

  “Why do you think? With the boss out of the way, control of the business is up for grabs.”

  “And someone is trying to grab it away from you.” My timing never ceases to amaze me. I slipped into the claustrophobic little space and took a closer look. The float had been built on a tractor bed, which meant that the driving apparatus was a stick. Even worse, we were approaching a bend in the road. Until now, the float had remained more or less on target from inertia, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. A glance out of the small space under the prow showed me what lay ahead if we couldn’t get this thing to turn. “I don’t drive a stick—”

  “Neither do I!”

  “But I know someone who does.” I pushed Casanova out of the way and grabbed Louis-Cesare by the ankle. “Get down here!”

  Thankfully, he didn’t waste time asking why. And once he was down, the why was sort of obvious. A large group of tourists had arranged themselves on bleachers for the parade—probably been waiting there half the day to get flattened by a rogue pirate ship. Louis-Cesare cursed under his breath, but slid into the seat while I scrambled out of the hole around him. I dropped the trapdoor closed after me and grabbed Casanova by his pretty lace cravat. “I need a favor.”

  He said something extremely rude. I just smiled. “I’m not asking for me. I’m on a job for Mircea. You know, family patriarch? And, incidentally, your boss?”

  Casanova’s attitude changed immediately, an ingratiating and totally fake smile falling over his features like the mask it was. But his answer stayed the same. “I told you the truth. I don’t have anything!”