Chasing Shadows(59)

I stepped closer so that we were almost nose to nose. “Now where is Mark?”

Diarmid’s eyes searched mine for a moment before he spoke. “The Ancients are…concerned. But you are right in that they do not care as much as I put on. Still, I thought finding Vivian and her source—her, when it was revealed she was one of us—seemed to be the ideal way to curry favor with them, perhaps give me a little more room to breathe. Of course, that won’t do at all now. I certainly can’t turn you over to them. I would not kill your animals just because I thought your investigation was taking too long, nor would I have harmed Mark’s lovely sister for the same reason. And now that I know you are, in fact, the one whom I seek, I will simply have to find some other way of appeasing them.”

He sighed. “I promise you, my daughter, I do not know what has become of your beloved. Although I can understand why you would suspect me, I do not know why you would think he is here.”

I stared for a long moment, then warily I relaxed my grip on his neck and lowered my hand. Diarmid raised one of his own to rub his throat, which was no doubt very sore.

“I followed him here,” I said. “Even were it not for the blood bond I created by drinking from him, I’ve no doubt our pair-bond would have led me to him. He is here, I can feel him here.”

Diarmid’s eyes flickered when I mentioned having tasted Mark’s blood, but he didn’t remark on it. “I did not bring him here, nor do I know who could have. Certainly no one on my staff would have done this, and the only other person who lives here is Evangeline.”

I froze, feeling my blood run cold as the horrible truth suddenly dawned on me, and I recalled the words I had spoken to Lt. Parks hardly twenty-four hours ago:

“Evangeline can be a bitch, but she’s a cunning bitch. If she were going to try and get back at me for something, she’d be a lot more subtle than setting my barn on fire. Trust me, Lieutenant, you’re barking up the wrong tree on that one.”

A cunning bitch indeed, I thought with increased dread, for her to have orchestrated a scheme like this. Subtle hardly described it—not one of us had suspected her in the least, and yet suddenly I knew in my gut she was the one behind it all.

“Where is her room?” I called over my shoulder, already running up the stairs.

“Third floor,” my father called, dashing up the stairs behind me.

“Saphrona, Father—wait!” Lochlan called out.

By that time I was already on the second floor landing, though I did spare a moment to look back at him. “Lochlan, I have to go!”

He started up the steps, Juliette at his side. “Stop and think for a moment, sister. If Evangeline is truly behind all this, she’s not going to hide Mark in her room—I daresay she wouldn’t even bring him in the house, or Father and his staff would have smelled him by now.”

Diarmid looked at me. “I’m afraid he has a point, daughter,” he said slowly. “I have not enjoyed his scent since last evening when your sister and I visited you at your home.”

“Damn it!” I shouted, swinging at the vase full of flowers that sat on the decorative table on the landing. I briefly thought of the fact that it had probably been a very expensive vase, but I didn’t care, and Diarmid, for his part, didn’t even bat an eyelash. “I know he is here, I can feel him!”

“Does this castle have a basement?” Juliette wondered.

Diarmid nodded and began to descend the stairs again. “There is, and it does have an outside entrance,” he said, swinging past her and through the doorway into the formal dining room.

I was only a second behind him, but it was long enough that I was surprised when the unmistakable sound of a gunshot rang out and he fell backward into me. His full weight slammed into my chest and knocked me backward into Lochlan. My brother and Juliette both shouted in alarm as we all fell, and I was pushing Diarmid’s still form off of me when a male vampire—the guy from the theater again—appeared in the doorway, the gun in his hand pointed squarely at my chest.

His sneer was the last thing I saw before he pulled the trigger, and I had just enough time to curse the sudden failure of my supe-sense before I blacked out.



*****



I awoke to the feeling of a booted foot kicking me in the stomach. I coughed and blinked, and tried to breathe past the pain in my shoulder—which was far worse than the pain in my stomach. My right shoulder and side felt as if they were on fire, or at least like I had swallowed something hot without allowing it time to cool a little.

“So, Saphrona, you’re awake,” came my sister’s voice. “So glad you could join us.”

I looked up as one of her goons, whom my mind dubbed Movie Theater Vampire (as it was that jerk who had been kicking me) backed away with a snide smile. I noticed that I was restrained to the wall with one-inch thick silver chains, as were Lochlan and Diarmid—this must be the place they had brought Juliette to torture her. The silver wasn’t burning me as it was them due to my dual heritage, but it did chafe and it did bleed strength from me as it did any other vampire, making it near-impossible for me to break free—my brother and father had to be in agony right now.

I didn’t see Juliette anywhere, but across the room from me was Mark, who was chained to the wall as I was. His shirt had been removed and he’d clearly suffered a beating, but his healing factor seemed to be doing its job. When he smiled weakly at me, my heart swelled.

I was just happy to see that he was alive.

“I’m sorry, Saphrona,” he said.

“Oh, lover boy speaks!” Evangeline said, clapping her hands and giggling like a little girl. “First words he’s said since he got here—how very rude to not even greet your hostess. Martin, do please remind him of his manners.”

Movie Theater Vampire was apparently named Martin, and after offering me another sneering smile, he walked across the room and swung his fist into Mark’s stomach.

“Stop it!” I screamed. “Leave him alone!”

Vangie walked over to me and slapped me hard. Her smile was toothy, her fangs extended, the look in her eyes wild as I turned my head to face her again. “Martin obeys only me, sister,” she said, spitting the last word in my face as if it tasted bitter. “Hit him again.”

She stood watching me as Martin punched Mark twice more. I strained against the chains binding my arms over my head, all pain forgotten as I watched Mark suffering.

“Evangeline, stop it. Stop this insanity,” I said.

She giggled madly again. “My dear sister, you think this is insanity? You think what I’ve done is madness?” she queried rhetorically, stepping back from me and gesturing around her. “No, no this is not madness. What is madness is someone who defies her creator, who spurns the love of her father even when he offers her the simplest of gifts. You were a fool to turn away from this life, Saphrona, for it could have made you richer than your wildest dreams—all you had to do was accept what you are and embrace it!”

“I think I’ve done quite well enough on my own, thank you very much,” I spat harshly, my own fangs dropping as my anger increased.

She laughed. “What, you mean your silly little farm? Breeding livestock? Selling the sperm of your stallion and your bull? Selling pigs?” Vangie wrinkled her nose in disgust. “That is no life for a vampire, a goddess among men. For the life of me I cannot fathom how you could live the same lifestyle as your food.”

“Funny, I don’t recall living in the barn and shitting where I sleep.”

She came over and slapped me again. “Humans, you idiot! Humans are your natural food source!” For good measure, or just because she could, she slapped me a third time.

Then she turned her attention to Lochlan and our father, who were chained to the wall beside me. “Now, while it was foolishness for you to debase yourself to living like humans, my sister, true insanity lies with these two.”

“Lochlan and Father? How are they crazy?” I asked.

Evangeline grabbed a handful of Lochlan’s hair and jerked his head back, slapping him twice—I noticed then that he had also been shot, but like me his wound was not mortal. He was wide awake and staring at our nutjob of a sister with a hateful look in his eyes. Diarmid, I saw now, had been shot in the heart, and was hanging limply from his chains. I found that I was deeply concerned for him, even though I knew he was not truly dead. He would recover in three days’ time.

That is, if we made it out of this dungeon of Evangeline’s alive.

“How are they crazy, Vangie?” I asked again.

She spun to face me. “Because they loved you!” she screamed. “You looked down your nose at them, like you were so much greater than they were for your ability to give up human blood. You rejected our father, refused to see him or speak to him—you told him you hated him over and over again—and still he loved you! That is not sanity, it is madness!”