The limo ride back to Liege was filled with laughter and more drinking as everyone strove to keep the vibe going. Desdemona leaned into Luke, leaving no personal space, as she ran her hand back and forth over his inner thigh. He tried to enjoy the attention, to play the part, even though he knew this would only end badly.
It had been too long since a woman had paid attention to him. Even though he knew she was luring him back to the mansion for her masters’ purposes, her touches spiked in him a longing for companionship he normally tried to keep suppressed.
He hoped Desdemona would flee. She still had a chance to break free from the clutches of the fangers he hunted. If she ran and didn’t link up with any others, she might enjoy a life free from their terror. He found that he liked her and didn’t want to be the one to kill her if she were eventually turned.
But for now, she was his ticket into the mansion and the eventual release of Amiata and Olivia Adelisa. Part of him felt bad about taking advantage of her, but he brushed it off by reminding himself that she was luring him back to be used by her masters.
The limo came to a stop.
“Romain, we’re here!” She grabbed Luke’s hand and pulled him out of the limo.
They queued up at the entrance to the mansion as a burly security guard inspected everyone for weapons, searching purses and running metal detector wands over people. Luke dumped keys, wallet, and phone into the little tray they provided and let the man run the wand over him. Soon, he and Desdemona were walking up the path that led into the house. As soon as he cracked the door open, the sound of American hip-hop poured out the door.
“Wu-Tang Clan! That probably means DJ Jazzy Jefe is spinning. He plays a lot of American rap, especially Wu-Tang.” She pulled him deeper into the mansion.
“I love the Wu-Tang Clan,” Luke said, putting on a smile. “Wait, this doesn’t sound quite right.”
Desdemona perked her ear to the side and listened carefully. “Ah, the dubstep remixes.”
He looked around at the luxurious decor. Antique furnishings filled every conceivable space. Small tables displayed beautiful statues, while paintings covered the walls. He walked over to one of the statues and saw the name etched into the bottom—G. Geefs.
“Guillaume Geefs? Impressive.” His eyebrows rose.
“Are you a fan?” She bent over to look at the name.
“Somewhat. I mostly know Guillaume from his sexy Satan statue. I always like to visit Le genie du mal whenever I’m in Liege,” he replied.
“Yes, it’s beautiful. I’m not sure it’s really doing a good job of keeping people from temptation, though. I’ll get us a couple drinks.” She gave him a flirty wink and a finger wave before disappearing down a hallway.
Luke drifted around the ground floor, peeking into open rooms. In some, people and vampires talked and flirted while in others, they’d proceeded to more carnal pursuits.
He moved through the house, looking for the stairs up. When he’d finally found them, he was about to investigate when a familiar voice interrupted him.
“There you are! I have your drink.” Desdemona handed Luke another glass of Champagne. “Thought we’d keep the bubble party going.”
He followed her back to the main room where the DJ was spinning. They listened to the music and danced, Desdemona occasionally topping off their Champagne. As she tried to top him off one more time, he waved her off, saying he was heading to the restroom.
He strode confidently toward the stairs he’d found earlier, keeping a sharp eye out for anyone paying attention to him to make sure he wasn’t being watched. He tried to fit in and allay suspicion by trying to look casual and a bit tipsy. When no one seemed interested in him, he slipped upstairs. Now seemed like a good time to see if he could recover his weapons and spring the van den Berghs. As soon as he cleared the last step onto the first floor, a click of a door followed by a hand on his arm halted his progress.
“Who are you?” the man said.
Luke tried to keep his startlement in check while affecting a slightly buzzed slur. “I’m a guest of Desdemona’s. I’m looking for a restroom.”
“Ah. Third door on the left.” The man nodded down the hall, then disappeared down the stairs.
Luke relaxed a little, letting the tension seep from his body, and found the restroom and stepped in. Since he was there, he availed himself of the facilities. After washing and drying his hands, he cracked the door just enough to let more sound in, but not enough to seem suspicious. Once he decided he couldn’t hear anything in the hall, he stepped out and walked down the hall as if he belonged there.
He got lucky; he made his way to the top floor without being stopped by anyone else. At the top of the stairs, he hid in a shadowy nook as he oriented himself. With the compass app on his cell phone, he found his way to the third room from the west on the north side. He placed his ear against the door and listened for about thirty seconds. Hearing nothing, he decided the coast was clear.
He slowly pushed the door open. Seeing that the room was indeed unoccupied, he darted in and closed the door behind him. He walked over to the window, opened it, and stuck his head out.
“Crap,” he grumbled.
The third room wasn’t the room with the third window; the bag was one over. He closed the window and headed back toward the exit, making sure the coast was clear before zipping next door. Again, he listened and found the room silent. A quick peek verified it was unoccupied. Quietly, he slunk into the room and headed to the window on the left side of the large four-poster bed. He unlatched it and pushed. The window didn’t budge. Clenching his jaw in frustration, he shook his head, then remembered that newer European windows were double hung and swung inward.
He swung it into the room and climbed up. Perching carefully on the windowsill, he teetered a moment as he regained his balance, his heart pounding. He firmly grabbed the inside of the frame, while he reached up as far as he could, standing on his tiptoes. He managed to reach the D-ring and unclip it one-handed, but the greasy rope holding bag slipped through his fingers. He grabbed the bag just before it fell out of reach.
Catching his breath, he stood with one hand gripping the window frame while his other held the bag, knuckles white. When his heart rate finally calmed, he slid into the room, setting the bag on the bed. Just as he unzipped the bag, the door opened.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” asked a tall, heavily muscled man with a shaved head and deep brown skin. He wore red leather pants and a leather harness with thick chrome-plated rings in place of a shirt. The oppressive feeling in the back of his head that alerted him to the presence of a vampire slammed home. Normally he’d have felt a gradual rise in pressure as the vampire approached. Either he hadn’t noticed the vampire’s proximity after nearly falling out the window and almost dropping the bag, or something was off.
Luke reached into the bag in search of a sword hilt. Not waiting to find out what he had in the bag, the vampire tackled him. The bag flew, scattering its contents and tangling around Luke’s hand. He and the fanger crashed into a delicate Rococo end table, shattering the antique. He let out a frustrated growl.
Slamming his right elbow into the side of the man’s head, he knocked his attacker slightly off him, then followed the elbow with a punch. It made contact, but Luke’s position took most of the power out of it. He used the distraction to shove the man off with his knee.
He broke the vampire’s grip, then crawled clumsily toward the bed. He grabbed the bedding, hoping to pull himself up and away from the larger man, but instead jerked the blankets off the bed and on top of him. Something was wrong; he felt weird, vaguely dazed. He hadn’t had that much to drink, even toward the end of the evening. It shouldn’t have had this effect on him, unless…
The vamp recovered and grabbed Luke’s leg, dragging him and the bedding he still gripped. Grabbing one leg of the heavy wooden bed frame and pulling hard, he slipped free of the man’s grip and kicked out, catching the man in the stomach. The air whooshed from his lungs as he let go of Luke and doubled over.
Luke scrambled away, getting up as the blankets tangled around his ankles, sending him tumbling back to the ground. He was never this clumsy. Desdemona must have drugged him with the last glass of Champagne. He’d been too trusting with her. For as little Champagne as he’d drunk, she must have dosed it to knock him out cold.
He desperately crawled toward one of his swords that had spilled out of the bag onto the floor. Just as he wrapped his fingers around the hilt, impossibly strong hands grasped his ankles and yanked him away, sending a crushing, stabbing pain up his leg. He grunted and twisted around. Wicked claws extended from the vamp’s hands. His mouth hung open in an angry grimace, needle sharp fangs descending from his upper gums. Luke twisted and slashed with his wooden rudis. The silver and steel alloy blade bit into the vampire’s forearms, opening two gashes down to the bone of each arm. The wounds smoked from the silver and anti-vampire enchanted wood. Grim satisfaction at the vampire’s pain brought a smile to Luke’s face.
The vampire let go, howling in pained fury. Luke scrambled away and stood up, his limbs trembling. Shaking his head to try to clear it, he threw the blankets over the top of the vampire. The vamp struggled under the bedding as Luke kicked the thrashing mass of blankets and vampire. The vamp lunged to his feet, tripped, then fell backwards onto a side table, turning it to splinters. He wrestled with the blankets and soon freed his legs. Luke, panting, stumbled around to the side of the vampire, waiting for the right opportunity to strike. As soon as the fanger’s flailing claws ripped through the material and he poked his head through the hole, Luke struck. He swung the blade down in a vicious arc that relieved the vampire of its head. Its body stilled.
Trembling, Luke kicked the head out of the way, nearly tipping over, then knelt over the decapitated body. He grabbed the hilt of the wooden sword inlaid with silver and held it over the vampire. As he tried to concentrate, his hands shook, the blade swaying precariously above the vamp’s chest. Pulling in what focus he could, he stabbed it into the vampire’s heart. The edges of his vision blurred and darkened as he tried to place his head onto the pommel. He attempted to speak the incantation that would activate the power of the rudis but couldn’t get his tongue to work as his body succumbed to the drugs coursing through his veins. Hearing running feet, he tried turning around but got twisted in the blankets again. He heard a thud as stars exploded in his vision. He slumped over the pommel of his rudis as the room faded to black.