Death''s Mistress

  That did it. He scrambled out of the wreckage, but then the portal activated, and I had to drag him back in. There was no way the car was going to start, or drive if it did. But I turned the ignition anyway, because it was even less likely that we were going to outrun a group of masters on foot.

  Unbelievably, the engine caught. I gave a whoop of disbelief and pressed the gas. For a second, nothing happened. Then the mostly flat tires hit the asphalt with a flapping sound, and we slowly lurched forward. We’d gone maybe half a block when the coupe came slinging into the road out of nowhere.

  It landed on one end, hitting hard enough to send it somersaulting into the air before it smashed back down, almost on top of us. Humans would have been dead, but the crash did not noticeably inconvenience the vamps. They immediately began piling out of the car, and one of them saw us. Three black blurs started down the road after us—and disappeared.

  It took me a second to realize that they had been broadsided by the sedan. It had come hurtling out of the portal at maybe fifty miles an hour, smashed into them and then into the tree, and burst into flames. I just sat there for a second, feeling the heat on my face and watching car parts fly through the air, because I don’t get that kind of luck.

  And then lights started coming on in brownstones all along the road, which didn’t look like it got a lot of traffic—especially of our dubious variety. Concerned citizens were probably dialing the cops right now, giving me yet another reason to get gone. I floored it, and we took off, going all of twenty miles an hour.

  I chewed a thumbnail and wondered how much time this bought me. I suspected it wouldn’t be a lot. The vamps in the pileup might be out of commission, but it didn’t matter because they’d had plenty of time during the chase to call for backup. And with two flat tires, a whine in the engine and something grinding ominously under the dash, no way could we outrun them. We needed to go to ground, but if we did, the Hounds would be on us in no time.

  This is why I hate Uptown, I thought, staring around at the well-tended brownstones of the wealthy. They kept their cars in luxury, air-conditioned garages. Not to mention that they were probably all late models I couldn’t have hot-wired even with the tools I didn’t have. I was a Downtown kind of girl, and this was a strange land.

  I clamped my teeth on what I suspected would be an hour-long string of obscenities. Not that I had an hour. Come on, come on, think! You’ve lived here for years. There has to be someone—

  I got a glimpse of the nearest street sign and stood on the brakes, craning my neck to be sure. I parked the Impala in the middle of the road, tossed my jacket over Ray’s stump and dragged him over the seat behind me. Come to think of it, I did know one Uptown kind of guy.

  I just hoped like hell he was home.

  “Home” to senior masters traveling outside of their territories could mean a lot of things. For those on Senate business, it usually meant staying at one of the Senate’s many properties worldwide. But if they were traveling for pleasure—or if they were up to no good that they didn’t want their fellow senators to know about—they usually sponged off a subordinate. But what if they didn’t have a flunky in the area? Then they went to the vamp equivalent of a hotel. They stayed at the Club.

  Vampire owned and Senate approved, with branches in most major cities, the Club provided visiting masters with luxury, convenience and, most important, security. If someone wasn’t on the approved list, they didn’t get in. And I was most definitely not on that list.

  Fortunately, I was with someone who was.

  “Raymond Lu to see Prince Radu Basarab,” I told the little bald daub of a desk clerk.

  He didn’t answer, being too busy gaping at Ray’s gory stump. My jacket had fallen off somewhere in the mad dash here, and even I had to admit that the result was kind of gruesome. The blood flow had finally stopped, though, so that was something.

  “I—I—”

  “Radu Basarab,” I repeated slowly. “He’s here, right?” The vamp swallowed, and his hand disappeared under the counter, his shoulder jerking as he repeatedly stabbed the panic button. I glanced over my shoulder and wished whoever was in charge would hurry the hell up already. And then it was too late.

  A truck rumbled down the street, its bed full of men. They were seated on benches along each side, like a bunch of soldiers on their way to a fight, which looked a little out of place in this area. It was pretty accurate, though, I realized a second later, as a streetlamp caught a familiar face.

  It was one of Cheung’s boys, the one I’d fought in the storeroom. He must have been a senior-level master, because that shot should have killed him. Instead, livid and puckered scars crisscrossed his face and neck, and disappeared into the collar of the new shirt he’d acquired. He’d probably taken it off a subordinate, because it was too small, showing off a large indentation where his stomach ought to be. He’d heal eventually, of course, but in the meantime, he looked a little peevish.

  Scarface spied me through the leaded glass in the front door and his mouth dropped open—for a split second, until he leveled his shotgun at me. I jerked to the side, and it blew a hole through the door and across the room and would have taken out Ray’s head, if he still had one. Instead, it exploded against the expensive wood paneling behind the desk.

  “Never mind. I’ll find him myself,” I said, and dragged Ray over the counter.

  We dashed down a hall and ran straight into a group of well-armed security. “Oh, my God, look what they did!” I screamed, and pointed at Ray, who obligingly slumped against the wall. The security guard shied back; then his jaw set, and he and the rest of the team streamed past, headed for the lobby.

  Ray and I scurried ahead as the sound of shots, curses and breaking glass echoed down the hall. A waiter coming out of the kitchen saw Ray and dropped a tray of glasses. “Have you seen Prince Basarab?” I asked him. He just stood there, the tray clutched to his chest, and didn’t say anything. So I poked him. He jumped and stared at me instead. “Radu!” I repeated.

  He pointed up the stairs, and Ray and I took them two at a time. Vamps were peering out of all the doors on this floor, and none of them was ’Du, so I kept going. But at the top of the next flight of stairs, a handsome young man in a light blue dressing gown was just pulling a door shut behind him. I thought I recognized him, and sure enough, he saw me and smiled. “Dorina, isn’t it?”

  “That would be me.” The guy was one of Radu’s humans, brought along as a snack, among other things. I didn’t remember his name, but it didn’t matter. I doubted very much if most of the vamps did, either.

  He pushed sweaty blond hair off his neck. “I thought so. Things always get so much more . . . lively . . . whenever you’re around.” He looked past my shoulder. “Radu was wondering what all the commotion was about, but I suppose you’ll tell him.”

  “You bet.”

  He glanced at Ray and made a little moue of distaste. “So much for a quiet weekend,” he sighed, and edged on by.

  I slipped into the room he’d just left, closed the door and turned to see Louis-Cesare’s maker sitting up in bed. Radu Basarab shared his brother’s darkly handsome good looks, most of which were on display at the moment because he appeared to be wearing only a sheet. He snatched it up breast high, like a modest woman, and stared at me out of annoyed turquoise eyes.

  “Dory. You can’t be here, you know. Really you can’t.”

  “Why not? This is a vampire club.” I nudged Ray. “He’s a vampire.”

  “He doesn’t have a head.”

  “Okay, most of a vampire. And you said we’d get together while you were in town.”

  “I said I would come see you,” he said crossly. “That’s a very different thing! And what are you doing?”

  I looked up from settling Ray into a camel-colored wingback chair. “What am I supposed to do with him? Prop him in a corner?”

  Radu threw up his hands, but he stopped bitching long enough to wrap the sheet around himself and pad across
to the bathroom. He emerged a moment later in a quilted orange silk robe and threw a towel at me. “For his neck. You have no idea what they charge here for incidentals. It’s a disgrace.”

  “Why aren’t you staying with Mircea, then?”

  Radu made a face. “Because of those damn races—”

  “Races?”

  “The World Championships, Dory!”

  “Of what?” I asked, spreading the towel along Ray’s chair back. He didn’t really need it, but arguing with Radu was a pointless occupation. His conversational style defied all logic except his own. And we were going to get interrupted in about thirty seconds anyway.

  “Ley-line racing. You know, the mages’ favorite sport.”

  “I don’t keep up with it,” I said, listening to the bumps, crashes and shouts coming from downstairs.

  “Well, neither do I! That’s the point. I planned this visit weeks ago, assuming that of course I would stay with Mircea. Only to be told that he was already hosting guests and was full up.”

  “What about vamp central?”

  “If you mean the Senate’s East Coast headquarters, I tried there, too. But it’s the same story. I told them I didn’t need much space, although considering all I do for them, I would have thought they could have found something suitable. But even when I offered to stay in a single room—”

  “The horror.” I wandered over to a rosewood chiffonier, which looked like it might have been converted into something interesting.

  “—they insisted that nothing was available! Reducing me to this. I tell you, the things I do for family—”

  “Family?”

  The door burst open, and three security officers rushed in. Radu ignored them in favor of narrowing his eyes at the dusty bottle in my hand. “Tell me that’s not the Louis XIII.”

  I looked down at the label on the very nice cognac I’d just poured myself. “Uh.”

  “Do you have any idea what they’re going to charge me for that?”

  “You should get them to comp you, along with the room. If I was the bad guy, I could have had you in a dozen pieces by now.”

  Radu’s narrowed gaze turned on the lead guard, who failed to notice because he was staring at Ray, who had started smoking again. I guess that was fair because it wasn’t like he could drink anything. But it didn’t get any less appalling.

  “Must you do that?” Radu demanded. Predictably, Ray flipped him off. Radu looked at me. “Dorina!”

  “What do you want me to do? Spank him?”

  “That sounds like an excellent idea,” Radu declared. The guard and I both looked at him blankly. “I believe I shall have a talk with management.”

  The guard looked bewildered, having made the mistake of trying to follow Radu’s thought processes. “Are you all right, sir?”

  “Of course I’m all right, no thanks to you,” Radu told him severely.

  “We would have been here sooner, but there was a disturbance in the—”

  “But there shouldn’t be any disturbances, not at these prices. I was assured that this was a quiet and peaceful retreat. Yes, here it is.” He picked up a flyer off the nightstand. “ ‘Quiet and peaceful haven in the heart of one of the world’s most cosmopolitan cities.’ Cosmopolitan!” he snorted. “Why, I suppose that’s true. The caviar is American, the vodka is British and I strongly suspect the plumbing of being Russian!”

  “You don’t need plumbing,” I reminded him.

  “I do bathe, Dory!” he snapped. “And then there’s Gunther.”

  “And Gunther would be your—”

  “Bodyguard.”

  “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

  “We’re all required to have them now, since the war. Anyone senior, that is.”

  “Making a virtue out of a necessity?”

  “Virtue?” He examined the embroidery on his cuff. “Well, that would be a novelty.”

  The guard had been looking back and forth between us, and finally decided he’d had enough. “Sir, I—”

  “And for what I am paying, I should have a guard permanently assigned to my room!” Radu said, rounding on him. He swept an elegant hand, indicating the cream-and-ice-blue drapes, the matching Aubusson carpet and the large sitting area with the antique marble fireplace. “Not that there’s space in this closet.”

  Several of the guards started looking at their leader with apprehension. I didn’t think there’d be too many volunteers. “Sir, I will inform the management of your, uh, concerns,” the leader said, backing slowly toward the door.

  “See that you do! I naturally expect some inconveniences when away from home, but they seem to believe we should all live like savages!”

  The door shut on Radu’s final word, and he slumped back against the pillows, fanning himself with the flyer. I tilted the bottle at him, and he nodded gratefully. “You had better hope that works, Dory, or I may be staying with you,” he said as I handed him his drink.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it, ’Du. You’re a Basarab. They’re probably going to name the room after you.”

  “Not if I keep getting visits like this. Did you do a great deal of damage?”

  “I didn’t do any. The guys chasing me, however . . .”

  “Yes, well. Let us hope they’re blamed instead. Although that would be more likely if you weren’t here when management stops by.”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me, ’Du?” I asked thoughtfully.

  “Yes! Yes, I am! It’s nothing personal, Dory, but your condition—”

  “I’m a dhampir. It isn’t catching.”

  “But it’s hardly going to help the Club’s reputation, is it? You’re the sort of thing most of the guests stay here to avoid.”

  “They’re not going to see me with the door closed,” I pointed out, swirling the amber liquid around my glass.

  “See, no. But scent—”

  “I smell like a human.” I knocked the drink back, faster than the quality deserved. But it was a shame to waste good cognac.

  “Perhaps so,” he said crossly. “But you see how it is.”

  “I’m beginning to.” I put the delicate crystal glass down carefully on the side table, and was out the door before he could stop me.

  There were only three other rooms on this floor, so my odds were pretty good. The one right across the hall was empty and obviously unrented, with a light film of dust over the antiques. The one next door to Radu’s was occupied by the blond human, who was lying on the bed flipping through a magazine.

  “I’m disappointed,” he told me. “The last time you paid us a visit was a lot more dramatic.”

  “I’m not done yet.”

  I went to the last door, which opened before I could get my hand on the doorknob. “Merde.”

  “I suspected the family would have the whole floor,” I told Louis-Cesare.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “How did you find me?” he demanded, exasperation in the glassy blue of his irises. They matched the fresh blue shirt he’d put on over impeccably pressed charcoal trousers. The shirt had a tone-on-tone stripe in a satiny weave that caught the light, like his perfect shining hair. Mine was everywhere, my borrowed T-shirt was wet with sweat and I smelled like cigarettes and beer. And I hadn’t even gotten to drink the beer.

  I scowled. “You mean after you left me naked and defenseless—”

  “You are never defenseless, and I left you your weapons.”

  “—in a club full of vampires—”

  “I made a commotion upon leaving. Lord Cheung’s men followed me!”

  “Oh, well. That makes it all right, then.”

  He frowned. “How did you find me?” he repeated.

  “Because I’m just that good,” I lied. “Now let me say this nicely. Give me back my fucking head!”

  “We cannot do this now!” he told me, trying to push past. Like it was going to be that easy.

  I caught his arm and spun him into the wall hard enough to cause a cascade of ph
otos, small mirrors and the vase on the hall table. “Sure, we can.”

  He scowled and pushed off the wall. “Go home, Dory.”

  “Give me what I want, and I will!”

  Radu appeared in the doorway. “I know this is a stupid question before I ask it, but is there any chance that we can discuss this like civilized people?”

  Louis-Cesare glanced at him over his shoulder, then looked back at me, eyes narrowing.

  He stepped back a pace and dangled the duffel off one long finger. “Come and get it.”

  I stared. “Oh, no, you didn’t.”

  “Oh, yeah. He did. You gonna take that?” Raymond piped up from the depths of the duffel.

  “You really want to do this?” I demanded. “Because I’m not going to play nice. You know that, right?” The only answer I got was a flying tackle that caught me around the knees and sent me skidding on my back over hard wood.

  I grinned. Well, all right, then.

  “That’s what I thought,” Radu sighed.

  I’d landed at the top of the stairs, with my knees up and Louis-Cesare on top of me. So of course I flipped him. He went over my head but didn’t fall far because security was on their way up again. He landed on a couple of guards, who grabbed him for the second it took for them to recognize him as a guest. It gave me a chance to jump back to my feet and topple over a grandfather clock.

  It went chiming downward, only to be batted aside by Louis-Cesare in a blow that turned it into musical kindling. The same was true for a marble statue, a painting in a heavy gilt frame and a large potted plant. The junk in the stairwell caused a few vamps to lose their footing and slide backward, and the disorienting sphere I pulled out of my duffel and exploded in their midst had the rest staring around in bewilderment.

  Except for Louis-Cesare, who in one inhumanly liquid movement topped the stairs and caught me in a tackle that sent me sliding backward again, this time on the carpet runner. It was tacked down, so it didn’t move, leaving me with a massive case of rug burn. “Ow,” I said distinctly.