Come to Me (20 page)

"We have done it before. Perhaps God will be on our side and they will be pushed back into Wallachia. Surely God will not favor them for the lies they have been telling."

"Lies?"

"Dragosh claims that our family are a pack of werewolves, and that we conspire with the devil. He says we have the minions of Hell at our beck and call."

Nicolae tried not to look toward the tower, where his own little minion was probably sulking.

"He has roused his troops into such a frenzy of fear, they behead any of our soldiers they kill in battle, to keep them from rising again."

Nicolae shook his head. "Dragosh is insane."

Radu shrugged. "Father blames it all on you, of course."

"Of course."

He would always be the guilty party in his father's eyes, and the weight of it demoralized him. He didn't see how he would ever redeem himself, no matter what happened, no matter if he found a way to vanquish an army with a magical flick of his fingertips. To his father, everything related to Dragosh of Maramures would always be Nicolae's fault.

To his father, Nicolae would always be a miserable failure of a son.

Samira sat on her lumpy pallet and watched the shadows darken. It felt like a lifetime ago that Nicolae had walked by, giving her only the briefest of glances before continuing up the tower stairs. Several hours later Constantin had come and given her food: a bowl of turnip and meat stew, and bread.

"I don't want it. Take it away!" she'd told him.

"Were you expecting honey cakes? You'll eat it and be grateful for it."

"I will not. I will never eat anything again."

He'd set the food down anyway. "You'd do well not to shun a kindness. You'll learn quickly enough how rare it is."

"I shouldn't call eating a kindness to anyone."

Constantin had shaken his head. "You know so little." He'd left without another word.

She had been alone the rest of the day, just her and the congealing turnip stew and the pictures of saints being flayed and chopped to pieces. The hunger creature had returned and begun again to chew her insides, but she ignored it, determined never again to return to the shed. That thought alone was enough to kill the beast.

The last of the late afternoon sunlight came through empty windows high above, painting golden squares on the frescoes that covered the walls and ceilings, except where chunks had fallen off to reveal the masonry below. A saint's halo shone briefly in the light, and then as the sun lowered below the horizon all the colors of the art faded into grayness.

Samira shivered, feeling the chill of night creeping into the room. She tucked her feet up inside the caftan, happy now for its warmth, however much she still despised the rough feel of it against her skin.

Surely Nicolae would call for her soon? Perhaps he'd been sleeping the day away and was almost ready to begin his studies.

Time passed, and the gray of the church darkened to charcoal, and then to blackness. Her ears perked at every sound without and within, her head turning at every draft of air, seeking its cause. The sounds of the men out in the courtyard had long since ceased, and now it was only the breeze and a few insects that relieved the silence around her.

She scooted back into the corner of her pallet, the wall against her back, her wool blanket pulled up over her knees. She stared all but sightlessly into the darkness of the church, only the faintest of shapes visible to her, and none of them looking as they had in the daylight.

"
Nicolae
," she pleaded softly, wishing he could hear. Should she climb the stairs and find him? But he'd been so angry, and she didn't want to make him even angrier. He wouldn't let her help him if he was angry with her.

A subversive part of her griped that it would be his own stupid fault if he didn't let her help and he missed out on whatever it was she might be able to teach him, the arrogant lump of cheese. Apparently she wasn't the only one who didn't know better than to refuse a kindness.

She remembered the feel of his buttocks in her hands and grinned. She didn't regret doing that, not one bit. She was only sorry he'd fallen over before she could get a grip on parts more interesting. Being touched certainly seemed to rattle him.

He seemed a man in need of rattling. She couldn't think it was good for anyone to be so absorbed with books, and to spend all his time alone in a tower. Or alone in this creepy, burned-out church.

Something scurried in the shadows, making rustling noises among the dead leaves blown in by a long-past wind. Samira wrapped her arms tight around her knees, her ears tracking the sounds. She heard her bowl tip and rattle and stifled a shriek. She tucked the edges of the caftan and blanket under her, frightened that whatever now dined on her dinner would find its way into her clothes.

"Theron!" she whispered into the darkness. "Theron! Can you hear me?
Theron
!"

Would he be able to hear her, out there in the Night World? Did he know yet what had happened to her?

She listened for some sign of him. Nothing. But would she even know if he came?

She closed her eyes, willing herself to fall into sleep. How long did it take? How would she know when she was there? If she really was human right now, then she would be able to talk to Theron in her sleep.

And if she were asleep, he would be able to do with her as he wished
. The thought snapped her eyes back open. There was no way to know if her suspicions about
Theron's interest in her were true. The succubi and incubi did not love; they did not lust; they did not desire. Or so they believed. But Theron was different, and like her he seemed to have been changing over the years, infected by the emotions of the humans he attended.

If he
did
want her, as she suspected, then the moment she fell asleep she would be victim to his desires.

A whimper rose in her throat, as for the first time she felt the vulnerability of a human to the demons of dreams. She didn't want Theron to know where she was! And she didn't want to be alone if she fell asleep.

She kicked off her blanket and scrambled to her feet.
Nicolae
. He could protect her. She stumbled to the stairs and, using her hands to feel her way, she climbed the steps to the tower.

The hatch at the top of the stairs was open, and she crawled into the room, still uncertain of her balance on the precariously steep stairs. The light from a single candle on the table was enough for her darkness-adjusted eyes to see that Nicolae was not studying. He wasn't at one of the windows, either.

She stood and looked around, and then spotted him: still clothed, he was sprawled asleep on his bed, a fur pulled half over him. His arm was thrown over his eyes, and his mouth was partly open. She could hear his breathing, deep and strong.

This whole time, when she'd been hunkered in the dark and cold, scared half out of her wits, he'd been
asleep
? While she'd waited in hope of hearing him call her name, he'd forgotten about her and tended to his own selfish desire for sleep?

He hadn't been concerned about her at all. He hadn't even been angry enough to stay awake. It was as if the moment she was stashed away on her pallet, he'd forgotten about her.

He shifted, rolling onto his side, and her heart leapt. Was he waking? She wanted him to see her here, to see her standing alone and forlorn, and feel guilty for forgetting about her. She wanted him to jump up in concern and ask how she was, and if anything was wrong.

He pulled the fur up over his shoulder. She waited, watching intently, and made a little noise in her throat to catch his attention.

The deep breathing resumed.

Ohhh
! She nudged him on his hip with the heel of her hand.

No response.

She nudged again, then rocked his hip with her hand, muttering curses under her breath.

He stirred and she jumped back, suddenly afraid of how angry he would be at her for waking him. He rolled onto his stomach, face turned toward her, cheek smashed against the mattress. His eyelids fluttered briefly, a faint frown passing over his brow.

She put a woebegone expression on her face.

His lips parted, and he blew out yet another deep breath of sleep.

She yipped in frustration and leapt up onto the bed. He woke with a start, lifting up his head, but before he could rise she knelt on his buttocks and grabbed his shoulders from behind, shaking them. "Wake up, wake up! There was a succubus trying to get you! Wake up!"

"Whaaa?"

"You can't fall asleep—a succubus will get you! You don't want that, you told me so!"

He rolled over, throwing her off to the side, into the furs mounded between himself and the wall. "Samira! What the hell are you—"

"You're vulnerable when you're asleep. You don't want a succubus to have her way with you, do you?"

"Get out of here!"

She pulled one of the furs up over her knees. "I'd better stay here and keep guard."

"Out!" He pointed to the hatch. "Now!"

"But a succubus—"

"
You
are the only succubus I have any reason to worry about!"

She scooted down into the furs and up against the wall, trying to root herself in place on the mattress. "Don't make me go, Nicolae. Please."

Something in her words or expression must have caught his attention, because he frowned at her. "Why? What's the matter?"

The words came out in barely a whisper. "It's
dark
down there."

"Surely you aren't afraid of the dark. Not you."

"But I can't
see
anymore. Please don't leave me alone down there."

He considered, and then a slight softening of his frown told her his answer.

"Thank you!" Samira said, and flopped down on the mattress, making herself comfortable.

"I didn't say anything!"

"But you're not so heartless as to make me go back down there when you know I dislike it so much." She tucked the fur half over her face, peering at him over the edge. He looked adorable with his black hair all disarranged, and that scowl on his brow. His arched eyebrows looked delightfully devilish, and she was overcome by an almost irresistible urge to reach out and touch him.

A sudden shyness and fear of rejection made her duck her face into the furs, hiding from him and from herself. With the fur over her eyes she blinked into her self-created darkness and berated herself. Why was she being such a coward? She hadn't had such fears and insecurities when she was a succubus. Was this human body defective in its courage, as well as being weak and fragile and prone to disgusting needs?

She heard him heave a heavy sigh, and she peeped up over the fur again.

"I'll let you stay up here, but not in my bed. Go fetch your pallet and set it up in the corner." He pointed across the room.

"There's room enough for two right here," she said hopefully.

"Not for two such as you and I."

"Don't make me go down there again tonight," she said in a small voice.

"Just fetch your pallet."

"Please."

"I've already compromised on letting you stay up here! You can go fetch your pallet!"