A Kiss of Blood (Vamp City #2)(82)

“I must. If I fail to show, he could send guards to find me, and that we cannot have. Plus, if I am with him, I will know exactly what he has planned and can potentially talk him out of sending anyone into the Focus.”

“But will you be able to leave in time?”

He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “If I am not, Kassius and Micah will get you safely to the Focus and back.”

The bed began to shake suddenly, violently. Arturo disappeared. And a moment later, sunshine poured in through the uncovered panes of glass. Even half-blinded, the sunlight delighted her, then terrified her as the full import hit her.

The vampires . . .

“Turo?”

“Here, cara. The hallway remains in shadow.”

She rose, dressing quickly, enjoying the brief visit of the sun even as she prayed that none of his friends had been caught in it. As she joined Arturo in the hall, the sunlight went out as suddenly as it had appeared.

“Your friends?”

“Safe, I hope. Kassius has been keeping watch the past couple of hours, but he’s in little danger. With his wolf blood, he’s able to tolerate the sun for short periods of time.”

“I’m glad.”

He nodded, then pulled her against him. “I shall return as soon as I am able.”

“Is there any chance that Cristoff has figured out that you’re his traitor?”

“Kassius says no. He still believes I am his loyal one, and he must continue to do so.” He kissed her, slowly, thoroughly, then pulled back. “Be careful.”

“You, too.” He let her go and disappeared down the stairs.

She’d been awake five minutes and already things were starting to go wrong. Not an auspicious beginning to what might well be the most critical day of her life.





Chapter Twenty-Two

A light rain fell as Arturo rode toward Gonzaga Castle, his horse’s gait slowing as water puddled in the road, turning the dirt to mud. The air was cool, almost brisk, and lightly scented with the diesel of the real world. An unnatural hush blanketed the land as day dawned dark as night, a hush filled with anticipation. And dread.

The equinox.

If Quinn succeeded, by day’s end, Vamp City’s magic would be renewed, and all would go back to the way it was before. Hopefully, to the way it was long before, before Phineas Blackstone’s toxic magic began slowly disintegrating the consciences and souls of the city’s inhabitants. Quinn’s magic would be different, he was certain of that. Her goodness would have a cleansing effect.

He had to believe that.

Vampires were out and about this morning, riding in their carriages or hurrying on foot for one destination or another. But their heads were down, the exuberance with which they generally enjoyed life missing. All waited with bated breath for word of the sorceress.

Being away from her now, as time drew short, had not been his plan. But plans had a bad habit of going awry, especially where Quinn was concerned.

When he reached Gonzaga Castle, Arturo dismounted, tied up his horse, and climbed the wide steps to the front doors. He’d once loved this place. For decades, the White House had been the seat of the Gonzaga kovena, until the building’s structure began to fail, and they’d been forced to build the castle. Though he enjoyed a home of his own too much ever to live within the close confines of the kovena, this had been his second home, the place where he’d come for companionship and friendship.

Now it was a prison to those, like Bram, who were trapped within Vamp City. And in the past couple of weeks, it had been a place he avoided, a deadly obstacle course to be maneuvered with the greatest of care lest his lies be revealed.

Guards opened the doors to him, bowing with deference, their expressions tense and unhappy though respect filled their eyes.

“Arturo,” each murmured warmly.

“Gil, Jorge.” Arturo entered the mansion’s ivory marble foyer, surprised at the lack of activity and stunned by the fear hanging heavy in the air. He’d expected anxiety, yes. It was the equinox. But this was different. This was dark and rancid, the fear of vampires, not humans. And never had he tasted its like within these walls.

He followed the sound of low voices coming from the billiards room, accompanied by the tap of cue to ball and found, in addition to the two playing pool, half a dozen vampires lazing atop the velvet benches like whores after a good night. But there was no sense of happy repletion in the air. Nothing but that thick taste of fear.

Cristoff’s angry shout carried from above, followed quickly by a man’s cry of agony, and Arturo understood. Cristoff was a pain-feeder and fed well on the Slavas he brought in several times a day for his pleasure. But this cry was no feeding. And he’d wager the victim was no Slava. No, Cristoff released his fury on the guards he blamed for losing the sorceress.

At the far end of the billiards room, staring out the window, he caught sight of Bram and went to talk to his friend.

Bram heard him approach, threw back the whiskey in his glass, and turned to him. His gray eyes had a bloodshot, slightly wild look that Arturo didn’t like. Blood splattered his gunmetal gray T-shirt and his jeans. And while vampire beards grew slowly, Bram had a healthy stubble that spoke of weeks of ignoring a razor, which was so unlike this male.

“Did you find her?” Bram growled, his mouth compressed, his jaw tight as if it had become welded in that position over the past two years.