Drake Chronicles: 02 Blood Feud (24 page)

“Indeed.”

“Not Montmartre?”

“He ordered the traps, certainly. He’s not fond of you. But I did the work, as usual,” he emphasized. “So why not use it to my own purpose?”

“You’re stalking her, you git?” Logan, snorted, disgusted. I knew what he was trying to do. He wanted to make Greyhaven angry enough to take his focus off me. “Pathetic, don’t you think? Especial y for the Host.”

His lips lifted off his face but he didn’t look away from me.

He had more control than Logan gave him credit for.

Not especial y heartening, actual y.

At any rate, I wouldn’t beg for Logan’s life. Greyhaven was perverse enough to kil him just to watch me suffer. Better that Logan was worth something to his greed.

“This isn’t easy for me, you know,” he said conversational y, nearly apologetical y. “You were my first. I consider myself your father.”

“I had a father.” I hissed through my teeth, every word like a flung dagger. “You’re not him.”

He waved that away. “I gave you life eternal.”

“You gave me death.”

“Semantics.”

A red haze fil ed my eyes. Anger soaked through me like a monsoon. I tasted blood in my mouth from where I bit my tongue.

“I can’t have you giving me away,” he continued, sliding a lacquered black stake out of the inside pocket of his pinstriped jacket.

“Get away from her!” Logan shouted, chains rattling frantical y. “Me for her! Me for her, damn it!” I felt nearly mesmerized by Greyhaven’s version of our story, as if he were talking about someone else. Emotional shock. I’d felt like this the first night in my uncle’s house, touching the books, the thick blankets, eating too much at supper. Like everything was final y right, but nothing made sense. I felt removed.

But I could stil hear him, could watch dispassionately as he approached, nearly close enough to kick; but not quite yet.

“I’ve taken great pains, planned, and been patient for over a century now. When I first joined, the Host was strong, organized, powerful. I climbed the ranks, paid my dues. And stil Montmartre denies me my own fledglings. As if he could stop me forever. I deserve my own army, my own Host.”

“How many have you done this to?” Logan demanded, horrified, as he realized what Greyhaven was real y saying.

“You’re making
Hel-Blar
.”

“I admit I tried. But
Hel-Blar
are weak castoffs and mistakes.

Now I’ve chosen better. I’m smart enough not to repeat Montmartre’s mistakes.”

“Smart? Is that what we’re cal ing it now?”

“You bore me, little boy. And you won’t sway me with temper.

But if you don’t stop your childish tantrums, I’l gag you.” He flicked the stake at Logan and it bit through his sleeve at his shoulder, pinning him to his chair.

“Now where were we?” Greyhaven stil hadn’t actual y looked away from me, not for a moment. I might have shivered if I wasn’t floating inside my own head, bewildered by memories and fury. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back for you, Isabeau. Forgive me?”

That startled me out of my daze. He had to be joking. My answer was a string of curse words I’d learned from Cerise.

The air should have blistered.

“I just can’t have you giving me away. Not when I’m so close. If Montmartre finds out before I’m ful y prepared …” He trailed off with a delicate shudder. “Wel , as I said, I prefer things to be neat and tidy. The battle wil be on my terms and the Host my own to command.” He withdrew another stake, pointed at me.

“You can say your prayers, if you like. You
were
always my favorite. You never forget your first.”

When he was close enough that I could smel his expensive cologne and see the grain in the lacquered wood of his stake, Logan managed to hook his foot around the rung of the stool next to him. He jerked his foot with an audible snap and the stool whipped over his head. It caught Greyhaven in the back of his knees. He stumbled, fury making his face bone-pale. A smal wooden disk engraved with a rose and three daggers fel out of his pocket. Just like the one we’d found in the woods the night Solange received the love charm. He hadn’t been lying then. He real y did have his own men.

I kicked him as hard as I could.

Logan gave a whol y undignified whoop of joy. He sounded like a child opening presents on Christmas Eve. I kicked again.

My only goal was to make it as difficult for Greyhaven as possible.

“I was prepared to offer you a quick, honorable death,” he said. “But now you’l both suffer.”

There was a stake in his hand again but before he could fol ow through on his promise, the door slammed opened on its hinges.

“Greyhaven, quit playing with your new pet. You’re needed.” Greyhaven turned to slant the new arrival a seething glance.

“Can’t you see I’m busy, Lars?”

“This can wait,” Lars assured him, his voice cool, quiet.

“Montmartre can’t. You’l give us al away because you can never delay yourself a little gratification. The battle’s begun and his lieutenant is lecturing little girls. It doesn’t look good.” Greyhaven tensed his jaw until it looked as if it might crack.

Then he smiled at me. “Only a momentary reprieve, I assure you,” he said darkly. “Watch the doors,” he told the guards before storming out, the door slamming behind him and Lars.

“That was too damn close,” Logan muttered. “This is our only chance. Sounds like most of the Host are at the courts.” He stood up. The chains hung from the ceiling, not quite long enough for him to lower his arms. He tugged, then swung with his entire body weight. Nothing.

I stood as wel , inspected the locks on my manacles. “I might I stood as wel , inspected the locks on my manacles. “I might be able to pick these,” I said. “But I need a pin of some kind.” I was going to start wearing hair pins again just as soon as I got out of here.

We searched the room: fireplace utensils, cushions, lamps, a stack of magazines. Nothing useful.

“Are you wearing a bra?” Logan asked suddenly.

I frowned at him. “What?”

“A bra,” he repeated. “Are you wearing one?”

“Yes.”

“Can you get it off?”

“I suppose so. But how is that going to help?”

“The underwire comes right out. You can use that.” I real y was beginning to like him more than I ought to.

I tried to maneuver my hands behind my back. My muscles screamed after a few minutes. I was undead, not boneless.

“I can’t reach,” I said final y.

“Turn around. Let me try.” He rol ed his eyes at my expression. “I’m not trying to cop a feel before I die, though the idea has merit.” He stretched, swore. “Can’t reach either. Stand on the chair.”

I climbed up onto the seat, trying not to feel ridiculous. His hands grazed my back.

“Hold stil ,” he said as if he was concentrating harder than he’d ever concentrated in his entire life. His vampire pheromones were suddenly stronger, flooding the room with the smel of anise and incense. It had no effect on me, of course, but it smel ed nice. He made quick work of the lacing on the back of my tunic, exposing my bare back. His fingertips were cool and gentle on my skin. He reached for the clasp, had it apart in seconds.

“You’re rather good at that,” I remarked dryly.

He pushed my tunic down over my shoulder to reach the strap. I felt warm suddenly, tingly. I had to remind myself we were locked up, chained, and about to be kil ed. I heard him swal ow. And then his mouth was on the back of my neck. He pressed a hot kiss there, searing through me.

Then he stepped back abruptly.

“Can you reach it now?” he asked hoarsely.

I nodded mutely and didn’t turn around. I couldn’t look at him just yet. I knew my face was red; my fingers trembled. My knees felt soft as I climbed off the chair. I reached into the armhole of my sleeveless tunic and pul ed the bra strap down and then did the same on the other side. A quick shimmy and the bra slid out, dangling from my hand. It was white lace, a gift from Magda. And for some reason having it out where Logan could see it like that made me blush harder.

I used my fangs to bite a hole into the fabric and then I slid the thin steel wire out of one of the cups. Logan was watching me intently, his cheekbones ruddy. I wasn’t the only one blushing over a scrap of lace. Somehow that made me feel better.

I inserted the end of the wire into the lock of the manacle on my right wrist and jiggled it gently, tilting my head to better hear the scrape of metal on metal. When I heard the delicate, barely audible snick, I smiled faintly. Another twist and the manacle opened. I slid my hand out and repeated the procedure on the opened. I slid my hand out and repeated the procedure on the other lock.

“Sweet,” he said. “You’l have to teach me that trick.” The guards were stil quiet on the other side of the door, but we didn’t have much time. I hurried over and picked the locks to free him as wel .

“Are you coming?” Logan grabbed Greyhaven’s discarded stake off the rug and then looked over his shoulder when I didn’t move. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Logan,” I answered calmly.

“Wel , I’m not,” he muttered. “We have to get the hel out of here.”

“He’s not after you, you have nothing to worry about.” He sucked in his breath, to express emotion rather than for need of oxygen. When he spoke, his voice was a little husky.

“I’m not worried about me.”

I didn’t know what to do with this concern, with the way he looked at me, as if I mattered. I needed to stay strong, focused, cold. I couldn’t afford to let him get in my way. I was too close now. I spent too long waiting for my chance.

And when Greyhaven came back in to kil me properly, I’d have that chance.

I couldn’t regret not having the opportunity to explore the connection I felt with Logan.

And I did feel it.

In a few short nights, he’d broken through some of my defenses, had made me long for things that were impossible.

He was a romantic, charming, and loving.

And convincing.

I knew if I said a single word about the way he made me feel he’d spare no quarter in convincing me that we had a chance.

But his kind of life just didn’t have room for someone like me, no matter what Kala’s oracle bones had said. His family was civilized. I was proud to be a Hound, but there was no denying we were a different vampire breed: wild, primal, superstitious.

Not to mention disdained and feared by the other vampires.

And though Logan had passed his tests, had been initiated as a Hound, I couldn’t know yet if he truly understood what that meant.

Just like he couldn’t know that making Greyhaven pay had been the only thing to see me through my first days as a vampire.

How was I supposed to give that up, now that it was within my grasp?

“I have to stay,” I final y said tonelessly. “You should go though.

”

“Don’t be stupid. I’m not leaving without you,” he argued. “And if you don’t come with me, my parents—hel , my entire family

—could die. You know Montmartre and you know how to sneak into the court caves. I
need
you, Isabeau.”

“I can’t,” I said brokenly. “I have to kil Greyhaven.
I have to
.” He was asking too much from me.

“If you stay, you’l die. He’l kil
you
.”

“Probably.”

“So, what—I’m supposed to let you commit suicide?”

“It has nothing to do with you, Logan.”

“Coward,” he raged at me, the charming young man vanishing. The predator in him, usual y disguised in lace and old-fashioned clothes, broke free.

Instead of being afraid, I leaned in closer to him subconsciously.

“I can’t,” I whispered again, jerking back.

“You have to,” he insisted hotly. “You’re a survivor. I saw what you lived through, so you can damn wel live through this too.

Survive Greyhaven, Isabeau. Please.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I get it. And it’s stupid. Now, I’m getting out of here and I hope you’l choose to fight instead of giving up.” His eyes flared with green fire. “The Isabeau I know wouldn’t give up. Not now. Not when her tribe is out there fighting.”

He was right.

Insufferable, but right.

“Your choice,” he said final y.

CHAPTER 22

Isabeau

My choice was to stay and get my vengeance—and likely die.

Or fight and only possibly die.

Logan made it sound so simple.

“I’ve only known you three days,” I said. “And you’re asking me to choose you.”

He speared me with a glance. “I’m not asking you to feel for me the way I feel for you. I’m just asking you to choose
you.
Not Greyhaven.”

I wasn’t as strong as I’d thought. Because part of me real y wanted to stay. It was easier, tidier, and hurt less.

Tidier.

Greyhaven thought like that.

Not me.

But if I wasn’t the girl who brought down Greyhaven, who was I? I’d built my new life, my new identity, on that one single goal.

But this was a battle of a different sort, one I couldn’t win with a sword or a magic charm. Otherwise he’d keep winning, without even realizing it. I’d survived him once, but I’d carried him around and let him hurt me over and over again. And that part was on me.