Eight days had passed, and I was still locked in a fucking cell. Something or somebody had messed up.
Father wasn’t going to rescue me.
Either he couldn’t find me, or he’d decided to test me, or he’d tried to rescue me and been captured himself.
Hell, maybe he’d never even gotten the message.
Whatever. I just knew I was on my own, trapped in a living nightmare. No one was coming to spring me—not my father, not Gabriel, and not Rafe.
Not even Reaper. She’d been a long shot, but I’d hoped…
So. It was up to me to liberate myself. I was running out of time.
The silver poison had hit me hard, maybe because I’d already been rundown when I arrived in Paris. Much more of this, and it would put me into a coma. Already, I was out more than I was awake.
This morning, I’d been startled awake by a rough, agonized cry. I’d strained against my bonds, heart racing, lungs heaving.
Someone’s hurt. I have to help.
Until I realized the cry had come from me.
The silver had burned through the final layer of skin and into the muscles and tendons of my wrists, fusing to my body. The pain was so excruciating, I’d cried out in my sleep.
I’d moved my wrists up and down, ripping them free of the silver. That had been so fucking painful, I’d nearly passed out again.
I’d stayed awake the rest of the day. Anything to keep my wrists from touching the silver.
Evening came. I hadn’t even seen Reaper for a couple of days. My last hope of rescue drained away.
You’re on your own, Zaq. No one’s coming to break you out of here.
Something inside me cracked. The combination of pain, blood-hunger and lack of sleep fractured the human part of me, and the darkness—the vampire beast—surged up. The vampire beast that’s part of all dhampirs, that we learn to coexist with.
Now it took control. My fangs elongated and my senses sharpened. My vision, my hearing, my sense of smell.
I growled low in my throat, but, conscious of the video cams, retracted my fangs. The vampire beast was cunning. It knew not to let itself be seen. No one could know it had taken charge, that “nice” Zaquiel Kral had been temporarily overcome.
The next time Reaper released me from the cuffs, I’d attack. The hell with this unspoken bargain we’d struck, where she fed me red meat and blood-wine right under Moreau’s nose and in return, I played tame with her.
I rolled my head from side to side, shrugged my shoulders, flexed my fingers. Brought my right knee to my chest, then my left.
Moving hurt. Hell, breathing hurt.
But I forced my feverish, aching body to go through the entire series a half-dozen times.
I’d only have one chance to take Reaper down. I’d have to make it good.
Except when the door opened later that night, it wasn’t Reaper, it was Ines and Blaise.
I prepared to fight. The beast didn’t care if it lived or died.
It just wanted freedom.
“Time to go.” Blaise released me from the wall while Ines stood by with zip-tie cuffs.
I brought my arms down. I didn’t even bother to stifle my pained groan. Let them think I was a wuss. Easier to surprise them.
I hunched and dropped my head to my chest to cover my lengthening fangs.
“Hands behind your back,” Blaise commanded. “Enforcer Moreau wants to see you.”
Yeah, I bet he did. To fuck with me, most likely.
Without lifting my head, I slid a glance at my opponents. Both carried silver daggers, but the fools had left them sheathed on their hips.
I gathered my muscles to strike.
Reaper entered the cell and somehow saw what the two vampires hadn’t. She leapt forward and grabbed me by the arm.
“No, Zaquiel! Moreau wants to make a deal with you.”
I swung my head in her direction. “Let. Go.” My voice sounded like something dragged from the bowels of Hades. Rough. Guttural. Demonic.
“No.” She gave me a shake. “You can’t win. Fight, and they’ll shackle you to that wall again and never let you go.”
Blaise dug his fingers into my shoulder. “Arms behind your back. Now.”
“Do it.” Reaper shoved her face into mine. The human part of me knew I must look like a scary mofo, but she didn’t back off. “Trust me,” she mouthed.
The beast hesitated, but decided to play along for now. It retreated, letting human Zaq retake control.
I drew a deep breath and growled, “No handcuffs.”
Reaper glanced at my wrists and sucked in her lower lip. “Leave it,” she told the two vampires. “He’s not going to get away from the three of us. The man can barely keep on his feet.”
Blaise shrugged. “Fine.” He took out his dagger and poked me in the back. “Walk.”
Ines unsheathed her dagger as well.
I stepped forward. That’s when I realized how debilitated I actually was. I’d been chained up with only short breaks for over a week. I could hardly put one foot in front of the other. Reaper kept a hold of my upper arm, helping me stay upright without making a show of it.
I made it up the first flight of stairs, Reaper at my side, the two vampires breathing down my neck. When I reached the landing, I halted, lungs jerking like a human with emphysema.
“One more flight,” Reaper said, low-voiced.
I closed my eyes. Then I opened them and shuffled across the landing.
That second flight was like climbing a goddamn mountain. Thirteen slow, painful steps.
By the end, I was counting them under my breath. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.
I reached the top and kept going, afraid that if I stopped, I’d pass out right there in the hall.
“This way.” Reaper indicated the first door on the right. “Enforcer Moreau is in his salon.”
I gave a tight nod, saving my breath to move those last few yards. Blaise strode past me and rapped on the door.
I glanced in the other direction and froze. The door at the top of the stairs, the one to the mansion’s first floor, was open.
My breath hitched. My pulse sped up. Maybe I didn’t have to fight—or bargain with Moreau. Not if I could escape in the shadows.
I shuffled forward. As I walked, I called on my vampire magic and started the fade.
And—nothing happened. I had no juice.
My chest clenched. Gods, I hated feeling so helpless.
Stay calm. Stay calm. Or you’re dead.
The door in front of us opened. The tall, lantern-jawed man, the one I figured was Moreau’s butler, inclined his head to me like I was a goddamned guest.
“M’sieur Kral. The enforcer is expecting you.”
The large room we entered was old-world French: blood-red Persian rug, antique furniture, gilt-framed oil paintings. It was beautiful, but I barely noticed, instead zeroing in on the slim vampire in a tailored suit lounging on a couch like a sleek rat. A rat with dark hair touched silver at the temples.
Blood roared in my ears. It was the man who’d attacked me the night after Étan.
My vision tunneled. I forgot everyone else in the room—Reaper, the vampires who’d escorted me, the long-faced butler.
All I saw was the S.O.B. who’d drunk from a man without permission. A man pinned like an insect to a concrete wall. A man who couldn’t fight back.
My vampire half surged up again. My fangs elongated, the tips itching to tear into his throat, and my fingers curved into claws.
Kill. Feed.
“Enforcer Moreau.” Reaper’s voice came from the other end of the tunnel. “Where would you like the prisoner?” She stepped in front of me, smoothly blocking me from charging Moreau.
She was warm, and she smelled good. Those two things penetrated my blood lust.
I took a shaky breath. There’s four of them and one of you. Attack him, and they’ll take you down.
And I’d find myself back in that thrice-damned cell.
First, I’d hear what the sonuvabitch had to say. Then I’d get that switchblade from Reaper and shove it into his goddamn heart.
“Zaquiel.” Moreau nodded at a gilded wood chair near the couch. “Sit, if you please.”
The adrenaline surge carried me the last few yards across the Persian rug. I lowered myself into the chair.
Reaper took a stance behind me. I spared a puzzled thought for her actions. She’d kept me from attacking first Ines and Blaise, and then Moreau. And now she hovered over me like a mama hen—or maybe a mother wolf.
She was protecting me. So she did feel this thing between us.
“A glass of blood-wine?” Moreau’s question brought my attention back to him.
I stared at him without speaking. Wanting to tell him to stick his blood-wine where the sun don’t shine.
But my starving, poisoned body craved blood.
I jerked my chin in assent.
Moreau waved a slender white hand at Aubin. “A glass of wine for M’sieur Kral.”
While the butler went to a carved wood buffet, Moreau told Blaise and Ines to wait in the hall. They obeyed, closing the door behind them.
Aubin brought me the blood-wine, then left as well, leaving me alone with Reaper and Moreau.
I took a small sip of wine. It slid over my tongue like liquid silk, but it had been days since I’d last eaten. My shrunken stomach rebelled and tried to heave it back up.
I set my jaw, aware of Moreau watching me, and waited for my stomach to settle before taking another sip. This time it went down easier, my thirsty cells soaking up the blood in the wine like rain on parched earth. Energy spread through my body, warming me from the center out.
I wanted to finish the glass, but I placed it on the small table at my elbow. I knew from my work with malnourished people that you had to reintroduce food slowly.
Moreau was still staring at me. His dark eyes glowed blue at the edges.
I lifted my lip in a silent snarl.
His gaze went to the marks he’d left on my throat, and his mouth edged up.
Bastard.
I dug my fingers into the chair’s wooden armrests. It was that or ram my fist down his throat. I waited until he looked at my face again, then stretched my own lips in what was supposed to be a smile but probably looked more like a dog baring its teeth. Which come to think of it, was how I felt.
“Calm down,” Reaper murmured from behind me. “Listen to him.”
I grunted. “Talk, then,” I said to Moreau.
The enforcer picked up a gold cigarette case from the coffee table in front of him and removed a hand-rolled cigarette. He tapped the end on the case’s lid and lit the cigarette. “You think Prima Tremblay was behind your kidnapping, don’t you?”
“You’re her sire, aren’t you? You tell me.”
Things were falling into place, including why a member of the Paris Syndicate had kidnapped me. Paris might not be at war with my father’s syndicate, but vampires had a special relationship with those they’d turned.
Moreau dragged on the cigarette. He pursed his lips and released the smoke in a perfect ring.
“Then you know the prima and I are close, that I take a special interest in her. In fact, I encouraged her to sign the treaty with your father. It was best for both Victorine and her daughter to end the feud.”
I nodded. I already knew most of this. But hey, if it got me out of that damned cell, I’d listen to Moreau drone on about the Tremblays all night.
I picked up my blood-wine again and drained the rest of the glass before motioning for Aubin to refill my glass. He waited for his boss’s nod, then did so.
Moreau rested his cigarette on an ashtray. “Let me speak frankly.”
“Please.” My ironic tone made the skin around his eyes tightened.
Behind me, Reaper shifted slightly. I could almost hear her telling me not to poke the bear.
Fuck that. I could care less if I pissed him off. Hell, I wanted him to attack me. Better to die a quick, clean death than go slowly mad from dehydration and silver poisoning.
Moreau said, “You’re here because you’ve been targeted by Slayers, Inc. A slayer has also been sent after each of your brothers.”
My heart pounded in my ears. The salon’s red-and-gold walls pressed in on me.
Gabriel and Rafe were in danger? It wasn’t just me, it was my brothers too?
Moreau was still talking. “But you can stop it.”
I drew a jagged breath and focused on him. “How?”
“By staking your father.”
I recoiled, blinked. “Stake my father?” I repeated slowly, like it would make more sense the second time I heard it. “SI is after me and my brothers, but if I stake my father, I can stop it.”
“Yes. His life for yours. We’ve decided to give you a chance to save your brothers. We’ll send you to New York. Stake your father, and Slayers, Inc. will call off the contract on you and your brothers.”
Okay, he was serious. I swiped a hand over my face. “So why are you involved?”
A small smile. “I have my reasons.”
“Victorine put you up to this, didn’t she?” I curled my lip. “She doesn’t want to be caught breaking the treaty, so she’s trying to get one of us to stake him instead. Well, tell her to go fuck herself.”
Reaper hissed. “Listen to him, will you?”
“No. This is bullshit and you know it.”
“It’s the truth,” she said. “Believe it.”
Moreau shook his head like I was a naïve idiot. “My people tell me that you refuse to believe Karoly’s abandoned you. You’re so loyal to him. I wonder why. He hasn’t come to your rescue, has he? And he knew you were being held in silver cuffs—I texted him the photo myself—but here you are, still in my lair. Maybe he’s decided you’re not worth the trouble. A dhampir.”
A muscle jumped in my jaw. I shook my head and tried not to see Blaise’s taunting face.
“He wants you dead. You. Your brothers.”
Moreau continued, relentless. “Karoly has done nothing to get you out. He hasn’t even approached Leo de Froulay for assistance, and I made sure he discovered that you were in one of my cells. So why are you still here, hmm?”
Deep inside, the beast lifted its head again. I glowered at Moreau. “You’re lying. You’re trying to turn me against him, and it won’t work.”
“It’s true,” Reaper confirmed. “Karoly hasn’t attempted to rescue you. He was in Paris, but he left a few days ago.”
No. I shook my head. There had to be another explanation. A reason.
I flexed my fingers on the armrests. I had the urge to clap my hands over my ears like a toddler and shut out his words. But that wouldn’t shut out the voice in my head.
“He left you here to rot.”
“If you won’t believe the truth about your father,” Moreau asked, “what about your brothers? Are you willing to gamble on their safety? SI has already embedded a slayer in your brother Gabriel’s staff, and a second slayer has been assigned to Rafael.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Reaper. She dipped her chin. “It’s true.” Her tone was flat, a little apologetic.
She meant it.
“Maybe your father allowed that to happen, too,” said Moreau. “Perhaps he’s decided to rid himself of all three of you.”
My head hurt. I couldn’t seem to clear it. To figure this out.
I grabbed my blood-wine and took another gulp. Fortunately, it stayed down.
“So let me get this straight. I stake my father, and in return, SI will call off the contract on me and my brothers.”
“Correct.”
“What proof do I have that Slayers, Inc. has anything to do with this? And even if you give me proof, since when do you speak for them?”
Reaper stepped forward. “If I may?”
The enforcer inclined his head.
She turned toward me. “I can assure you, SI is in agreement with this. It’s more efficient.”
“Efficient?”
“For you to approach Karoly directly. He’ll let you get close to him. He trusts you.”
“I see.” I tried to wrap my mind around the fact that they wanted me to stake my own father. Because it was “efficient.”
“And you know this how?” I asked Reaper.
“Because I’m the slayer assigned to you. Only Enforcer Moreau knows that, by the way.”
My fingers constricted on the wine glass. It was what I suspected, but somehow I’d hoped I was wrong. Because a slayer working with the Tremblays and Moreau? That was fucked up.
“I can’t give you any hard evidence that I’m a slayer,” she added. “We carry no ID or identifying marks because they can be used against us. But if you require proof—”
She stepped forward, drew back an arm. The switchblade was somehow in her hand, its long silver blade extended. Moreau straightened from his languid slouch because the switchblade was aimed at him.
Reaper lunged at him, blade out. Moreau coolly raised his arms to defend himself, but she did a Matrix-like flip over his head and landed behind the couch facing us.
I stared at her. Shocked, and yet not.
Right from the start she’d seemed different from the other members of the lair, more professional and less invested in making me hurt.
I’d figured it was because she was a dhampir, and dhampirs stuck together. And because she liked me.
My mouth twisted. Gods, I’d had it wrong.
To Reaper, I was a job, and apparently it hadn’t been in her interest to torture me.
I was a damn fool for thinking she’d help me escape. She was the slayer assigned to stake me. The enemy. She’d told me herself I was one of the monsters.
“Convinced?” She retracted the switchblade and came out from behind the couch.
I set the wine glass down before I broke it. “Yeah,” I said, like she hadn’t done the equivalent of smacking me over the head with a two-by-four.
I turned back to Moreau. “And you’re bargaining with me because Slayers, Inc. wants it.” My tone said, Yeah, right. I’d noticed he hadn’t denied Victorine Tremblay was involved in this somehow.
“Are we bargaining? It seems to me I hold all the cards. But I agreed to it because Karoly hasn’t acted as planned. Either he suspects something—or you’re not as important to him as we believed. Maybe he even wants you dead.”
I flinched; I couldn’t help it. Just a little, but the bastard was watching me with avid eyes, like I was a fly and he was one of those boys who get their kicks ripping the wings off defenseless creatures.
“Karoly was in Paris,” Moreau emphasized. Ripping off my other wing. “But he left without trying to rescue you. You’re on your own, Zaquiel.”
I dug my fingers into the armrests. “I see.”
“Bien.” He reached for his cigarette again. “So, do we have an agreement?” He blew another smoke ring.
I waited until the smoke spread out and disappeared before replying. Saving face by pretending to think it over. We both knew I didn’t have any choice but to accept. “Yes.”
Moreau gave a small smile. “Reaper will go with you, of course. To make sure you reach New York without any…difficulties.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Nevertheless, you may need help.”
Like hell. Moreau wanted to send her to spy on me.
“No. If I show up with a slayer, my father won’t let me get within a mile of him.”
“This isn’t a negotiation. You’ll do as I say.”
I opened my mouth to tell him no fucking way.
Reaper stirred. “This is non-negotiable, Zaquiel. Don’t worry, no one will know I’m with SI.” She bent over and murmured in my ear, “You need my help, you ass. In the shape you’re in, how far do you think you’ll get?”
She was right. I gave in, for now, anyway. “Fine. She can come with me.”
“We’ll leave ASAP.” Reaper drew me to my feet and urged me to the door.
After that, things became a blur. Blaise and Ines escorted us back to my cell and left, closing the door behind them. The adrenaline that had carried me through the interview with Moreau evaporated. I leaned my back against the wall and slid to the floor like a marionette whose strings had been cut, my legs too weak to support my weight any longer.
Reaper stared down at me, her brows a ferocious inverted vee. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
I rested my head against the concrete. “Don’t worry, slayer. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
I don’t know how long she was gone, because as soon as the door shut behind her, I curled up on the floor, dozing. When she reappeared, she’d changed into a gray T-shirt and green tactical pants and covered her short blond hair with the ugly brown wig from the airport. She had a backpack slung over one shoulder and an open bottle of blood-wine and two sandwiches.
I sat up and reached for the food, but she shook her head, setting it on the floor.
“Let’s clean your wrists first.” She showed me a bottle, telling me it was filled with a salt-water solution. “The salt will wash away the silver and neutralize it.”
I nodded, because I knew that. I also knew it was probably too late—the silver was all through my body now.
She helped me to the sink and uncapped the bottle. “Ready?”
“Do it.” I stuck my hands out.
The salt water hurt like a sonuvabitch, but I gritted my teeth and bore it. Fuck if I’d let her see how much pain I was in.
But she knew—and she rolled her lips in like it upset her.
She finished and waited until I sank back to the floor. “Here.” She handed me the wine and one of the sandwiches. “But make it fast. I don’t trust Moreau not to change his mind.”
I unwrapped the sandwich. My mouth watered. She’d brought a big, juicy burger—rare. My stomach growled, and my damn hands started shaking. I was so weak and hungry. The blood-wine I’d drunk hadn’t been nearly enough.
I wanted to shovel the whole burger into my mouth at once, but I hadn’t forgotten how I’d almost thrown up the wine. So instead, I took a small bite. The flavor exploded in my mouth. The juices ran down my throat.
I swallowed a groan of pure animal pleasure and took another cautious bite.
On the third bite, my shriveled stomach protested. Nausea washed over me. I stopped eating and concentrated on breathing.
Reaper had crouched on her haunches across from me. She hummed with tension, jiggling her leg, glancing at the door.
But she didn’t tell me again to hurry. Instead, she slanted me a compassionate look, like she knew what it was to be starving. “Try a little blood-wine.”
I wanted to tell her where she could shove her compassion, but I didn’t have the energy.
I brought the bottle to my mouth and sipped. My stomach clenched but I managed to keep it down. I shook my head and rewrapped the burger.
“That’s enough for now.”
“I’ll put it in the backpack.” She stood up and reached for the burger.
“That’s okay.” My fingers tightened the half-eaten sandwich. “I’ve got it.”
Silver-gray eyes scrutinized me. I could tell she guessed why I wanted to keep the burger. It represented food—life—and even though I couldn’t finish it, I needed to know it was there when I was ready to eat more.
“All right.” She produced a cotton mesh shopping bag from her backpack and held it out. “Put it in here.”
While I put the burger in the mesh bag, she recorked the wine bottle and stowed it in her backpack. “Here.” She tossed me a black T-shirt. “I figured you could use this.”
“Thanks.” I caught it to my chest and met her eyes, as grateful for the clean shirt as for the food.
Then I looked away, angry at myself. Because she was a slayer, and I was her fucking target.
If she cleaned my wounds and fed me, it was to keep me alive long enough to get to my father. And if she brought me clean clothes, it was so I wouldn’t draw attention when we left Moreau’s lair.
I stripped off my torn, bloody T-shirt and pulled on the black one.
“Ready?” She shrugged into her backpack and offered me her hand.
I ignored the hand and heaved myself to my feet without help, even though it cost me. A man has his pride.
“Ready.”