“You’re Vlad the Impaler, the famous vampire, right? And you murdered all those people.” My gaze flicked back to the spot where the body had lay. “Why do you have the same markings as both of the bodies?”
“You know that I’m a turned vampire.”
I nodded.
“Most vampires in the world are born. They’re not much different than any other supernatural. They have magic, they’re mortal. They’re not monsters any more than witches or sorcerers or seers are. Some of them are evil, but it’s not the nature of their species.”
“But it is the nature of yours?”
“Some think so.”
“You think so.”
His entire dark history seemed to be reflected in his eyes. “It’s hard not to. I own my actions, and I regret them.”
“You killed those people?”
“Most of my worst deeds occurred in the past, shortly after I’d been turned.”
I waited silently.
He leaned back and stared out the window. “Vampires are rarely made because few are capable of it. Few are willing to do it because their progeny—like me—become insatiable monsters, out for death and blood. They rampage across the countryside, killing anyone they come across.”
I swallowed hard, horrified.
He continued. “Often, they don’t live long. They’re so out of control…so horrifically consumed by bloodlust…that they aren’t good at covering their tracks. Vampire hunters take them out if others don’t get to them first.”
“You survived.”
“I was strong and clever. For some reason, after I’d been turned, I retained parts of myself. My cunning, my charm.” He shook his head, regret in every movement. “It makes it worse, somehow. That my mind was still partially there, even as I committed terrible atrocities.”
“Did you like it?”
“Like it?” He met my gaze, confusion in his eyes. “I…don’t know. I hated myself even then. Hated what I was doing. But I couldn’t control it. The need would come over me like a black mist.”
“Yet you survived,” I said again.
“My skills helped me evade capture for years. Eventually, I created a small empire here in Transylvania.”
All the myths were true, and I was sitting across from the man himself. The murderer.
I drew in a shaky breath. “What happened?”
“As the years went on, I shook off the effects of the turning. I was able to force the bloodlust down deep, far away to a place where it couldn’t influence me. But before that happened, I made an alliance.”
“With this Ivan.”
“You’re perceptive.”
“It’s the only direction this could possibly go.”
“Ivan was worse than me, if possible. Not a vampire, but a mage out of control with power. Once I’d regained my senses, I no longer wanted to kill.” His gaze met mine. “Don’t think that means I’m not still a monster. I manipulate and threaten and compel others to get what I want. But I no longer murder senselessly.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I don’t think you’re a saint.”
The corner of his lips quirked in a small, wry smile. “I don’t know why I ever thought I had a chance at you.”
Shock lanced me, and I stilled.
His gaze shuttered, as if he hadn’t meant to say that. He continued speaking. “Ivan and I had a gang of supernaturals who fought for us.” He touched his shoulder. “All were marked as I was. As Ivan was. The only way to stop them was to take out Ivan.”
“But he’s alive.”
“Now he is. He was immortal—rare among supernaturals—and impossibly strong. Even harder to kill than I am. I incapacitated him and trapped him in a tomb at the bottom of the sea.”
I could feel my eyes widen.
“I knew he’d be there a long time,” he said. “But I’d hoped it would be for longer. It appears he managed to rise recently.”
“And he’s restarted your empire.”
He nodded.
“But why attack Guild City?”
“To get back at me. He said he’d take everything I love.”
“You love Guild City?”
“What else do I have?”
Shoot. He had a point. From what I’d seen, he lived a shadowy, lonely life. Wealth and power of unimaginable scale, sure, but it wasn’t a life I would want. Especially now that this Ivan was back from the dead. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Would you want to tell the worst of your past?”
“If it was like yours, no.”
Something flickered in his eyes, then was gone.
Had I hurt him?
I couldn’t help but feel like I had. He didn’t argue, though. How could he? His past was terrible.
“I’d already tried looking for Ivan myself,” he said. “I couldn’t check the tomb, but I had a feeling he’d returned. The leads ran cold, however. That’s why I needed you.”
My mind raced. “The man who broke into your club…was he a warning?”
“I think so, yes. It was a power play. Ivan’s way of saying he had enough minions that he could throw them away.”
“What a monster.”
“You’re sitting with one.”
“You’re not as bad as he is.”
“But I was.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that—or even what I thought of it—so I stood and walked toward the objects on the ground. “We must find him and stop him. But how, if he’s immortal?”
“If trauma can’t kill him, I can contain him with powerful magicuffs and imprison him again.”
“Do you have magicuffs that are that strong?”
“There are some in the dungeons of Black Church that will work.” The Devil stood and joined me.
At least we had a plan. We just needed to stop Ivan in time. I knelt by the objects and picked up a stone, hoping for information.
The Devil lowered himself to my side. “Do you need help?”
I remembered his touch at the bar, helping me control my magic. It had sent heat shivering through me, along with the sense of his inherent goodness.
Had that been my imagination? Wishful thinking?
Or had he partially reformed?
I shook my head. “Don’t touch me.”
If I really needed the help, I’d ask him. For now, I’d try on my own. I needed to keep my distance.
The stone was a transport charm. Somehow, I could feel it in the magic. There were two others, identical, but they provided no interesting information. “I’m keeping these.”
The Devil nodded.
It was a small metal card that made me hesitate. I could sense the information in it, as if it might have belonged to someone important.
Maybe even Ivan.
I closed my eyes and focused my magic, gripping the card so tightly that it cut into my hands hard enough to hurt. I called on the magic inside me, remembering how I’d felt it deep in my soul.
The Devil’s magic had helped me summon my powers. I tried to remember that feeling of connection as well and use it to my advantage.
The power burst out of me like water through a dam. My mind was filled with images, so many images that my vision dimmed. I dragged in a breath.
Find me information about the bombing.
That was my priority. Stopping the destruction of my new home.
As if on command, the visions swirled and narrowed to one—a small stone door with a symbol carved into it. I forced my vision outward, and it complied.
Shock and elation rushed through me at my new control. I’d never been this powerful before.
I saw multiple small stone doors, a crypt of some kind. But it was the one with the symbol on it that drew my attention, a twisted spiral with points, a unique design that throbbed with magic.
In my mind, I drew closer. The vision was so clear that it felt like I was there. But that was impossible.
I neared the symbol. Reaching out, I touched the stone.
My fingers made contact, and an enormous force blasted me backward. The shock sent waves of pain ripping through me, and I blacked out.
9
The Devil
I watched Carrow work, her eyes closed and her fingertips resting on the small metal card. Her magic pulsed on the air, flaring bright. The scent of lavender filled the room, followed by the sweet taste of oranges.
Stunned, I stilled. She was more powerful than ever. Massively so.
Something was changing in her. Something with her magic.
Pain twisted her face, and she slumped over, unconscious.
Fear rocketed through me, and I lunged for her, grabbing her before her head hit the hard floor.
“Carrow.” I took her in my arms and brushed her hair away from her face. “Come on, Carrow.”
Would I need to heal her?
I shuddered at the idea of her lips on my skin again.
Could I?
This wasn’t a dagger wound or a broken bone. I had no idea how to deal with this.
Her eyes fluttered open, confusion flashing in their beautiful depths.
“What happened?” her voice was weak. Exhausted.
“Your power increased. I don’t know how. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“What?” Her eyes blurred. “I’m so…tired.”
Her eyes closed, and she fell asleep. I pressed my hand to her upper chest, wanting to feel her heartbeat. Her breathing came heavy and deep.
Asleep, not dead.
Exhausted by the extreme power that had blasted through her. I studied her face, looking for any sign of discomfort as my heart slowed.
She was all right.
I repeated it to myself like a mantra. The fear that had surged in me diminished, and I leaned back on my heels, cradling her to me.
She needed sleep.
I stood and carried her to the bed. Carefully, I laid her on the mattress and pulled the covers up over her. Rubbing my chest at the strange sensation within, I rose and stared down at her.
What was happening to her?