Blood of Angels (22 page)

She reached in and pressed a swift combination of buttons. She even winked as the doors closed on him.

István shut his eyes.

What the fuck am I doing? How can I walk away from her?

Because she wants you to.

Clever, strong Angyalka. Wise enough to recognize that they could never be together in any meaningful sense. Theirs was no Elizabeth-and-Saloman grand passion, no Mihaela-and-Maximilian love affair. It was just what she’d called it—an extended, exciting, and extremely sexy dance.

And now the band had stopped playing.

The elevator halted, and István opened his eyes. She’d sent him down to the gallery, to avoid the vampires. He felt his way out of the office and across the shop in the darkness. The handle of the door turned easily, and he went out into the cold of the night. Shivering, he strode to his car and drove home.

Tiredness began to set in during the journey. His back and his legs felt stiff and achy. A nerve that hadn’t given him trouble since Elizabeth’s last healing was jumping in his thigh. He needed to sleep. The strange blackness of leaving Angyalka would vanish in sleep. He hoped she’d learn to go out now, take back her self-reliance as she’d said. She was too amazing to be half alive in one building for her entire existence.

With relief, István parked in the street outside his apartment. He dragged his feet, exhausted as he hadn’t been since Elizabeth had driven him home the night the Angel had been bombed. The night he’d met Angyalka again and begun their dance.

He pushed open the door and wearily climbed the stairs, holding on to the banister to pull himself up. Maybe it was a job for the bungee reel, only that would involve taking it out of his pocket.

Reaching his front door at last, he shoved the key in the lock, turned, and stumbled inside. He remembered to back-heel the door shut again, lock and chain it. Then, without even turning on the light, he staggered toward his bedroom.

That was when the vampires jumped him.

Chapter Seventeen

I should be happy. I’ve tasted hunter blood and hunter sex. I’ve relieved my obsession and let him go. I’ve done the right thing, and I’m stronger for it.
He
made me strong.

So why was there blood all over her face?

At least she’d kept the tears back until he’d gone.

Gone.

She sank down onto the edge of the bed and stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair had just grown back and fell in angelic waves around her shoulders. Her face looked like a road accident. Or a vampire-killing orgy.

At last, she smiled, and the blood began to seep into her skin and vanish.

I let him go,
she thought proudly.
I
did
do the right thing.
And no matter how much her selfish soul wanted him back, she knew she’d never give in to the desire. Because it was better for him to be without her than having her and hating himself for demeaning his principles with her.

She got up and glided into the living room, savoring the sensuality of her body, which had just enjoyed so much delicious sex. Sex with István. Sweet, exciting, and tender. The best of memories.

She poured herself a measure of brandy and swirled it around the big glass. Then she lifted it to the curtained window, to wherever István lived, in a short, silent toast, and drank.

****

When István came to, his neck screamed in agony. He straightened his lolling head with a groan and realized the pain came not from vampire bites but from strained muscles. His head had been lolling at a ridiculous angle.

He was in his living room. Daylight tried to break through the curtains without a lot of success. It wasn’t a sunny day, and the curtains were heavy and lined. There were no chinks—presumably the careful work of the vampires who sprawled around his living room.

Vampires.

Instinctively, he jerked to reach the stake in his jacket pocket, but his hands were tied. His whole body was bound to a wooden dining chair.

“He’s awake,” said a voice in English, a voice he was sure he knew.

“Just as well for you.” The second voice was colder, radiating power, and though it spoke in English too, it was accented, as though English were not his first language. “Hitting him wasted time we don’t have.”

“He stabbed me in the head,” the first voice said indignantly. Jacob, the American vampire who’d broken in before. This time he seemed to have brought his friends. And István had been so tired, so full of Angyalka that he hadn’t even sensed them.

But then, he’d left a disruptor on in here. Even the vampire detectors wouldn’t have gone off. István blinked, trying to clear his head. It felt as if someone had hit him with a sledgehammer.

Focus, you prick,
he told himself angrily.
Assess the situation and any possible ways out of it.

Four vampires. Difficult enough at the best of times. Tied up and weak as a kitten, he couldn’t have dealt with one.

One materialized in front of him. Basilio. The old vampire made his flesh crawl. Worse, Basilio smiled, as though he could read the fact in his eyes and enjoyed it. This was the sadist responsible for the Széchenyi Bridge murder and the one near Keleti Station.

“Hunter. Welcome back to my world.”

“I’d say welcome to my house, but my heart wouldn’t be in it. Why am I still alive?”

Basilio raised his black, aristocratic eyebrows. “To work, my dear hunter. That’s your human ethic, isn’t it? Then you’ll embrace it with gladness.”

“Work,” István repeated. “Doing what?”

“Making what you started.” Basilio snapped his fingers, and a vampire István had never seen before shoved something across the table. István’s unfinished storage gadget. His hackles rose pointlessly at the realization they’d already been through his bag. What the hell did that matter? Jacob had been through everything else the previous night.

“You want my new gadget? Take it. I’m too tired to charge you.”

“Oh, we’ll take it,” Basilio assured him. “When it’s finished.”

“What makes you think it isn’t?”

“The fact that it doesn’t work,” Jacob said sullenly from the sofa.

“How’s your head?” István asked.

“Fuck off. Can I hit him again?”

“No,” Basilio said uncompromisingly. “Go and make him breakfast. Coffee. Bread, ham, cheese. Eggs, maybe?”

“I’m not hungry,” István said.

“Yes, you are. Your perceived appetite is merely suppressed by fear. Rightly, as it happens. Nevertheless, you will eat and drink, and then you will work.”

“And if I don’t?”

Basilio smiled. Sparks seemed to fly from his eyes, so hot did they become. It was the most unpleasant heat. “Then
we
will eat,” he said softly. “I know from experience that a hunter lasts a long time. Like a huge, juicy, never-ending steak.”

Konrad, tied to a table, bleeding from a hundred wounds, being tortured and bitten, abused like a side of meat. Konrad had borne it, somehow. And yet watching him bear it, knowing what it had cost him, had made just this scenario István’s greatest horror.

It was no empty threat either. The menace in Basilio’s cold, dead eyes might have been calculated, but István had read the reports from Mexico and the United States. Some of their worst “unsolved” murders, usually blamed on punishments by drugs cartels, were, in fact, down to this vampire.

As for the others—István’s gaze flickered over Jacob and the unknown pair watching with glittering eyes—they didn’t follow Basilio because he was kind to children and pets.

Someone was missing. Basilio’s creation, Gabby.

Shit, this had to be part of a larger plan. Where the hell was Gabby, and what was she up to? It was light, and she was young. She had to be holed up somewhere, with someone.

“I’m sure,” Basilio drawled, “we can count on your cooperation.”

The really troubling thing was, István didn’t know whether or not that was true. His strength had never been tested in this way.

Make your stand,
his inner voice told him.
Decide now and stick to it. There’s no question of anything else. Basilio must never have this gadget.

And show no fear.
In dealings with vampires, that was always vital.

So, he craned his neck to look calmly up into Basilio’s dead face. His dull eyes were completely different from Angyalka’s. His looked like there was nobody home. István said, “I’ll never lift one finger to give you control of this power.”

To his surprise, Basilio laughed. So did Jacob and the other vampires who’d wandered into the kitchen—presumably to get István breakfast.

“Do you know, I had an inkling you might be this pointlessly and delusionally heroic. So I took the precaution of sending some of my most trusted cohorts to the Angel Club.”

István’s heart seemed to stop beating. He sought desperately to keep his face straight, to dispel the fury and fear for Angyalka that overwhelmed him.

“Angyalka is with my people,” Basilio said with some satisfaction, “who await my orders with bated breath.” He smiled, longingly. “I wish I were there, to be honest. A vampire of her strength really does last forever if you’re careful. And trust me, your suffering will be nothing to hers. In fact, with a thick blanket, I might just make it round there now, find out exactly what it is you like fucking so much.”

István’s blood drained away to his feet, leaving him dizzy with shock. Angyalka was strong. Angyalka had contained an explosion that should have demolished the whole building. But she wouldn’t be afraid of the vampires. She could be taken by surprise as easily as he’d been. And the idea of Angyalka helpless, raped and tortured by this vampire, was unspeakable.

Without a single blow, it seemed, Basilio had broken him.

And his fang-filled smile told István he knew it.

“All right,” István said low. “I’ll give you what you want.”

Basilio looked disappointed but brightened when the other vampires appeared with breakfast for István.

Something struggled up inside István, a mixture of anger and determination and sheer bloody-mindedness.

Oh no
, he told himself grimly.
I am
not
broken. I’m not the innocent youth Konrad was. I’m the scientist. I use my brain, await my opportunities, and there are always some of those. After all, a teenage burglar cropped up like a deus ex machina, just at the right time to save Konrad. I’m one up on him already, because I can create my own opportunities.

He stared into Basilio’s eyes and breathed. “I can’t eat or work with my hands tied.”

Basilio smiled. “Release his arms and hands,” he ordered.

István waited patiently while Jacob swaggered over and flicked open a knife. The vampire tried to outstare him while he worked, but István wasn’t interested in any pissing contests. He inspected his bonds as Jacob cut his hands and arms free. His entire body was bound separately from his limbs, tying him to the chair seat and back. His ankles were bound together to the chair legs, which were also tied to the table. Neat touch. He couldn’t make much of an escape with a dining table dragging him back.

István flexed his fingers and arms. Jacob stepped circumspectly back out of range, and István grinned and grabbed a piece of bread and ham. Then another.

“The work?” Basilio reminded him as he reached for a third.

István nodded and swallowed and washed the lot down with a few mouthfuls of coffee before he said, “I’ll need my satchel and my tools.”

While he drank some more coffee, the vampires pushed his satchel and main toolbox toward him. Inside the toolbox sat one of the disruptors, apparently still disrupting. István rummaged and managed to switch it off without anyone noticing. He brought out a soldering iron and a screwdriver and turned to the satchel.

Shoving his hand deep inside, he fished for the vampire detector and pressed the buzzer button that should warn any other hunter with a detector switched on that he was in danger. Then he brought out a couple of batteries, which he lined up on the table. In the next compartment lay the wrapped statuette of Angyalka, the somewhat ornamental key to the magnification and storage of power. He had no intention of giving them that. He was planning on making them a very substandard device that would indeed magnify and store—just not very much.

He brought out his pliers and a pair of connectors and laid them out too.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Jacob exclaimed and, without warning, snatched up the satchel and emptied it out. The statue of Angyalka rolled across the table, unwrapping as it went, and came to a halt almost touching István’s hands.

Shit. So much for that plan.

But the vampires looked at him expectantly, ignoring the statue. And with a jolt, he remembered Elizabeth enchanting it for his first experiment—she’d made it invisible, and although he wouldn’t draw the vampires’ attention to it by checking, it seemed it still was to all but him.

Though it wouldn’t be if they stared at his hands for much longer. He had to distract them. With a further surge of excitement, he remembered Elizabeth had also enchanted his penknife.

“Fuck!” he yelled, pointing at the window with one hand. With the other, he hastily rolled the wrapping over the invisible statue before seizing the soldering iron and hurling it at Jacob. The vampire screamed in more fury than pain. By that time, István had found the penknife and ducked down under the table, as if to hide from Jacob. In reality, he sawed furiously at the ropes binding the chair to the table, weakening them, and leapt to his feet with a roar, dropping the invisible knife into his jacket pocket.

By then the vampires were on him. He swung his body, battering them with the chair, listening to the wood creak and snap. It was a technique that had them baffled and might just have succeeded in getting him out of the door and into the safety of daylight—especially if the bungee reel was still in his pocket—had Basilio not caught on and simply leaned on the back of his chair. István grunted as the legs hit the ground.

“Stop,” Basilio said, bored as Jacob and one of the other vampires both pulled back their arms to hit him. “We don’t want him knocked out again, or weakened. Just punished for his behavior.”

“How do you punish him without weakening him?” Jacob asked with surprising derision.

Basilio stepped around to István’s side and smiled, a dazzling smile revealing his fangs. “Don’t you know anything?” he said and swooped down on István’s throat.

The sudden pain was sharp enough to draw a strangled cry from him. But it was only the beginning. Almost as soon as the skin was pierced, Basilio licked it and bit again only a centimeter away. A stab of the tongue stopped the blood before it began to leak, but it didn’t stop the pain. Basilio bit and tore and healed all over the side of his throat, snapping like a dog, only every bite connected. In seconds, the pain was excruciating, and that was before Basilio returned to the places he’d already bitten.

After the first involuntary cry, István made no sound. His hands were held helpless in the vampire’s grip, and he could think only,
Endure, endure.

At last, it was over. Basilio’s face was inches away from his. “If you so much as look at me wrong again, my people will do that to Angyalka too. Before I go round there and bite her in places you don’t even want to think about right now.”

István jerked futilely in Basilio’s hold, then forced himself to relax. There was no point wasting energy to escape from a situation you couldn’t change. Wait until you
could
change it.

He’d sent out the only warning he could right now. And he’d disabled the disruptors so that any passing hunters could gauge from outside the number of vampires in the house. There was nothing more he could do, except stop the vampires from harming Angyalka.

The house phone rang.

****

Mihaela was on the phone to Maximilian when the warning buzzer went off. She wasn’t best pleased, since she was introducing him to the concept of phone sex at the time. His voice had just gone that husky, gravelly way that melted her bones to water, and he was telling her in really quite delicious detail exactly what he’d do to her when he got home.