Blood on Silk (20 page)

“You needn’t worry about them.”

“Saloman, don’t bring them down on my bar. I like it here.”

“Don’t think so small, Angyalka. It doesn’t suit you, and you’re capable of so much more. Let us talk instead of Maximilian.” He settled into the sofa, gazing at her as she sat down on the edge of the cushion beside him.

“Maximilian? No one knows where he is.”

“Nonsense. Someone always knows something. Karl did. Lajos does. And so do you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t know the creature.”

“Angyalka.”

Her gaze flickered to him and away, but still she said nothing.

He sighed. “I, on the other hand, knew him very well. I recognized his signature on your enchanted Angel. You use Ancient techniques, taught to Maximilian by an Ancient. Namely me.”

With an irritable click of the tongue, she threw herself back into the seat. “Damn it, I don’t know where he is! He lost heart and went away. He wants to be left alone. I respect that. I respect
him
. Whatever he did to you isn’t my quarrel. He was kind to me, and I won’t repay him with betrayal. So bite me.”

Saloman smiled. “You know, I might.” He leaned closer, inhaling her cool yet seductive scent. “You are, after all, an ally worth having.”

She’d bargained on it, of course, with her little loyalty rant, but nevertheless, her eyes half closed with involuntary relief. When she opened them fully, they contained blatant desire.

“I can be more than an ally.” Her hands snaked out and around his neck. She was a tempting armful, even for someone not fighting three hundred years’ worth of lust. He stroked her hair, knowing she was his for the taking. He could fuck her now. He could fuck her all night and still have Elizabeth Silk in the morning—Elizabeth, who loved music . . . and who knew what else? But his obsession with her was becoming dangerous, distracting him from more important aims. It was time to end it.

He pushed up Angyalka’s chin with one knuckle. “Maybe one day,” he said. “Right now, I have a problem sharing with Zoltán.”

She pulled away, her color flaring once more. He’d never encountered a vampire who blushed so much.

Her voice shook. “You really are a bit of a bastard, aren’t you, Saloman?”

“Oh no. I’m a complete and utter bastard. One can perfect these things over the millennia.” He rose to his feet. “Time to chat to Lajos.”

Konrad parked the car with precision, then switched on the ceiling light and twisted round to face the backseat, where Elizabeth sat with a tense and silent Mihaela. István’s long, serious face loomed out of the shadows from the other side.

“Okay.” For some reason, probably nerves, Konrad looked at his wristwatch. “He’s not in yet. We’ve had people watching the place since sunset. But don’t take any chances. Be ready at all times, and remember, everyone you meet in there is a potential threat. There are likely to be so many vampires that a detector will be worse than useless. But you’re not on your own. As soon as he arrives, we’ll be there. Not just we three. We have reinforcements for this job—the best.”

Elizabeth nodded. She wanted to sit there listening to Konrad all night. She wanted him to shut up so she could get on with it, get it over, have Saloman dead and get her life back.

“Just stay in the light, stay with the crowd. We think there must be some kind of no-killing rule, which the vampires have chosen—or been somehow compelled—to obey. There have been no reported killings or any other crimes on the premises, so you
should
be safe. Just remember, don’t even attempt to kill him. That’s our business.”

Elizabeth nodded again.

“We’ll buzz you as soon as we glimpse him,” István assured her, “or anyone who might conceivably be Saloman. The best policy would be to make sure he sees you, but never quite reaches you. Seeing you alone, without us, should give him a false sense of security, and he should still be weak enough for us to take him. Vampires have few loyalties—the others are unlikely to intervene.”

They’d discussed all this before. There seemed no point in doing more than nodding yet again. Hanging around here was making her feel more vulnerable than safe, perhaps because it suddenly seemed to be the hunters who didn’t understand what they were dealing with here.
Vampires have few loyalties? Is that true? Make sure he sees you but never reaches you? Come on, guys, be real. . . .

It was wishful thinking, of course. They hated letting her go in like that. They were still trying to protect her when what she needed now was to be active, to take back control of a life gone haywire. In truth, she just wanted to get the bastard once and for all.

Elizabeth reached for the door. “Got your buzzer?” Konrad demanded.

“In my bag.”

“And a stake?” István pursued. “Just in case.”

“Yes.” She cast them a quick smile. “Good luck, guys.”

“You too.”

They’d come a long way in her mind from the pranksters and nutters she’d once thought them. She just hoped this wouldn’t be the last time she saw any of them.

If I should die, think only this of me . . .
What? That she died happy at last? That she was never sure whether she wanted to screw him more than kill him, and discovered the answer too late?

Oh no, that might have been true once. I’m stronger now. Because I know he wants me too. Hell, pass the shampoo; I’m worth it.

Squashing down the rising rush of hysteria, she became aware of Mihaela marching along at her side.

“You can’t come with me,” she warned. “He’s seen you. He’ll know it’s a trap.”

“Shit, Elizabeth, we both know he’ll be well aware of that as soon as he sees you. It may be a deliberate blind spot with
them”—
she jerked her head back toward the car—“but you have to acknowledge it. . . .”

A muffled tinkle of ringtone Bach rent the air with all the effect of a bomb blast. Elizabeth and Mihaela stared at each other, wide-eyed for a tense microsecond. He’d been seen entering the club, coming toward the club; he’d really be there. . . .

Somehow, the phone was in her hand and at her ear, before she even saw the caller’s number on the screen.

“Elizabeth? Richard. How’s it going?”

Relief flooded her.
Not yet.
She still had time to get there, to dig in, to be prepared. “Fine. Richard, I can’t talk now. I’ll call you back. Bye.”

She broke the connection and dropped the phone back in her bag with a quick, apologetic smile at Mihaela, who in her urgency didn’t even acknowledge it.

“Listen, Elizabeth, I don’t care what Konrad said—his control-freak stuff is seriously beginning to worry me. If you get close enough, you stake the bastard. Hard enough to hold him until we get there and finish the job. You have to. Since he’ll spot the trap, he’ll try to kill you quickly and get out.”

No, he wants me
—
but how much am I really worth to him? Not as much as I want to be. He’ll take my blood with my body. . . .

It was impossible to tell any of this to Mihaela—although she might have guessed. Elizabeth had dressed on her own, emerging from Mihaela’s spare room with a long jacket closely wrapped around her. She hadn’t bothered with makeup—afraid she’d botch it through unfamiliarity and clumsy hands that showed an alarming tendency to shake—but she’d tied up her hair in a much more elegant and fetching style, and beneath the jacket she was dressed to kill.

They came to the corner, around which the Angel’s entrance would become visible. Elizabeth couldn’t leave Mihaela with the same silent farewell she’d given the others. Mihaela was more than a protector. She was her most unlikely friend.

Elizabeth turned and hugged her once, hard. “Thank you,” she whispered, and released her almost before she felt the returning pressure of Mihaela’s arms. She bolted around the corner, aching to run for miles and miles until her body was too exhausted to feel this intensity of grief or hate or lust or anything more than duty, just as in the good old days before she revived Saloman.

And he expects me to be grateful?

She forced herself to slow down. It was no part of her plan to arrive at the club tousled, sweaty, and panting. She had the image she’d thought herself into in Mihaela’s spare room, and she was bloody well going to stick to it until she stuck
him—
or someone else did. Either way, she’d be free.

For what?
a little voice whispered in her mind.
To finish a thesis you already know is crap? To go home and pretend none of this really happened? That you don’t feel—this?

Yes. Oh fuck, yes.

Elizabeth entered the Angel as if she owned the place. It helped that she’d been before and knew where she was going, was prepared for the steep climb, and could sail past the man at the top of the stairs, who might have been a vampire, as if he were of no account. Certainly, he made no move to stop her, or even to search her bag, which was her one worry about the whole expedition. Even normal nightclubs were understandably fussy about weapons, and she could hardly complain about having a lethally sharpened stick confiscated. Defenseless, her one remaining option then would be to storm back out in rage, achieving nothing.

The hunters would have to hide behind cars and leap on him as he arrived. The image entertained her as she swanned into the club, entering the wall of noise with her head held high. Ignoring the cloakroom—God knew whom she might have encountered in there—she just shrugged her jacket off her shoulders and, feeling enough attention to make her skin prickle, she walked on toward the bar. Without looking, she registered that two insignificant men sat there, at opposite ends, and chose her place next to one. Hopefully, he’d buy her a drink before Saloman arrived. She sashayed over and leaned rather than sat on the high bar stool to take in her surroundings with unhurried interest.

It looked very different at night, the lights low and intimate, casting a deceptive air of privacy over each table and sofa, over each couple on the dance floor. The place was jumping, and the dance floor crowded as the rock band on stage gave it their all. They were very young, very serious, and not bad at all, although she saw no reason for them to be quite that loud. The bass vibrated through her stool and her hips, and despite everything, she felt an urge to tap and sway with the relentless beat. Compromising, she marked the rhythm with one wiggling foot.

Deep in the painted dome ceiling, the retractable glass window was fully open, letting the night air cool the fevered dancers below. She let her eyes move on, completing the circle of trendy, wealthy, and outrageous clientele until she came, finally, to the man sitting next to her.

Her heart, her whole world, seemed to plunge through the floor.

“Good evening,” said Saloman.

He’d done it again. The bastard was here already. Somehow, he’d gotten past them.

The hunters hadn’t yet arrived to watch the club when Saloman had strolled through the predusk shadows in sunglasses in order to frighten Lajos and converse with Angyalka on the subjects of sex and alliances. He’d then entertained himself by helping the band set up their gear, taking note of what bits went where and how everything worked.

Angyalka had laughed at him, but Saloman was genuinely interested. The new age fascinated him, as did the new age people. He chose to watch the band from close to the stage, which is where he was when he “heard” her coming, and gave an involuntary smile. It might have been relief, or triumph. Certainly, it was pleasure.

With his superior Ancient senses, he found it simple to bypass Angyalka’s shields. He not only knew as soon as Elizabeth entered the building, but well before, as she approached it on foot. He didn’t even trouble to scan for the hunters. He knew they were there, though they were letting her come in alone.

He walked off the dance floor, ignoring the several silent but persuasive invitations to dance cast his way by both human and vampire females. He enjoyed the openness of modern women; yet it made Elizabeth’s reticence all the more appealing. He elected to sit at the bar, from where he had an excellent view of the door. Tonight he wanted to appreciate her from first moment until last, even though she’d come to finish him, imagined she was baiting him.