Death's Mistress (Dorina Basarab, #2)(132)

But what if one did live, because she had a powerful protector? A protector so ridden with guilt that he couldn’t bear to follow the law and have her destroyed? And what if that revenant was highly functioning, enough so that, with careful supervision, she would appear merely eccentric rather than mad? And what if this farce had continued for three hundred years?

What could a first-level master revenant do? Other than manage to camouflage her abilities, even from her own maker. Who, after all, hadn’t seen her for more than a century.

I glanced at Anthony. I guess I knew.

“She is not . . . She does not have to be a danger,” Louis-Cesare said desperately. “She can be—”

“She’s a f*cking revenant,” Anthony coughed. “She’s a danger to everyone—you know this! Why the hell didn’t you have her put down when you realized it?”

“How could I? I had already killed her twice! First when I handed her over to that bastard of a mage, and then when I made her into a vampire. How many times am I supposed to kill this one poor woman? How much damage am I to do?”

I didn’t think that was the question. I thought it was: how much could he do? Like human children, baby vamps tended to take attributes from their sire. So much so that family lines often became known for having certain gifts. Mircea’s, for instance, was better than normal with healing, both themselves and others. Louis-Cesare had gained that advantage from Radu, but when he became a master, it was his own special gifts and interests that were passed to his children.

And, as everyone knew, his strongest ability was in combat.





Chapter Thirty-seven


I watched as red lightning started to flicker across Christine’s palms and to coil up her arms. I didn’t think she liked being talked about as if she wasn’t in the room. I didn’t think she liked being given orders, either. She kept glancing at Anthony, and the hunger on her face was startling.

Anthony didn’t notice, having let his head droop down to his mutilated chest. I couldn’t tell if that was deliberate—to hide the fact that his neck had healed—or if he was merely too tired to hold it up anymore. But looking at the way his skin was starting to shrink up against the bones, I was voting for the latter.

Anthony had to get out of here and back to his family, and he had to do it now. But no way was he managing that on his own. I glanced at Louis-Cesare to see if he got it, and found him staring intently back at me.

“Dorina?”

I almost jumped out of my skin when the word echoed softly through my brain. “What?” I thought back instinctively, and felt a surge of profound relief that I knew wasn’t mine. I didn’t feel relieved. I felt creeped the hell out.“How long have you been able to—”

“Can you do it?” he asked silently, cutting me off in my own head.

“Can I do what?”

He looked pointedly at Anthony. “I will not leave you here with her.”

“You left me with her last night!”

“It was almost dawn, and I thought she had the power of a child then. You cannot hold her.”

No, I thought bitterly, I didn’t suppose so. I’d been getting my ass handed to me by vampires all day, and after seeing her with Anthony, I doubted this would be any different. But I also couldn’t drag an almost-deadweight through the landslide, across a debris-filled room and up a lengthy tunnel. And then fog the minds of the people on the other side when I was through.

I thought that at him as hard as I could, and saw him wince. It had probably had the force of a shout behind it, but I didn’t have centuries of practice at this. The only other times we’d had any kind of mental link, I’d been too distracted to worry about it.

I was plenty worried now, but other things took precedence. Like what I’d die of first, if Anthony went—the fire of his energy storm or being crushed to death as the tunnel collapsed. It wasn’t a palatable choice.

“If Anthony dies, I’m dead anyway. And he’ll die if he stays here. Get him out!” I sent.

“If she hurts you—”

“She won’t. I’m her good vamp-killing buddy, remember? Just hurry back.”

He sent me a slurry of emotions, intentionally or not, that had my eyes widening. “Do. Not. Die.”

Yeah, well, that was the plan.

“Christine!” My voice caused her to start slightly. “You’re draining Anthony. And if he dies, we do, too. Remember?”

She stared at me, dark eyes bright, for a long moment. And then she slowly nodded. “I can’t die yet,” she agreed. “I’m not done.”

It was amazing how three small words could cause gooseflesh to break out all over my body. “Not done?”

“You asked why I killed Elyas. This is why,” she said, obscurely.

“Because he was an evil vampire?”

“Well, of course,” she agreed, pushing back a stray lock of hair. The heel of her hand brushed her cheek, leaving a red streak behind, like badly placed rouge. “But I could have killed him at any time for that.”

“So why now? To avoid Alejandro’s executioner?” I knew before she answered that that wasn’t right. Whoever Alejandro sent would have had a rude awakening.

“No. It was the rune.”

“The rune.”