Page 318 of Dragon Slayer

Vlad recognized the car: he’d seen it in the vast underground parking structure when he’d been given his initial tour of the compound; long, and black, and chrome, and described as “an old thing” by Fulk le Strange. His car, one he’d had since “it rolled off the line in Detroit.” Whatever that meant.

“That would be my brother,” Vlad said. There was a sudden scramble, a reflexive reach for guns, for radios. “You will not interfere,” Vlad said, deep voice echoing off the walls. Everyone froze again. “My brother has been held as a prisoner his entire life, and that ends today. He’s not the warrior – I am. You don’t need him. Surely if there was anything useful to be discovered about his magic, you would have already done so. So yes, he’s leaving, and you’re to allow it.”

He turned to Talbot again. “Valerian has saved your daughter’s life.” His mouth fell open. “And she’s chosen to leave with him. As have the wolves: the baron and baroness are bound to Val now, a bond that persists until death.”

“He – he–” The doctor gulped. “What did he…?”

“He turned her. As I said: he saved her life.”

Talbot groaned and clutched at his belly, as if in pain. He sank backward into a chair, head hanging low. “God…oh my God…”

“Major Treadwell,” Vlad said, and turned to find the man standing upright, though shaking. He stiffened when Vlad’s gaze fell on him, but he didn’t shrink away.

“Yes, sir?”

“See that Sergeant Ramirez gets safely to her room. You will do this alone, without any of the guards.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And then you will report back to me so that we may discuss strategy. If I’m going to plan a war, I will need the assistance of a modern military man, and not these doctors.”

“Yes…sir.”

On the screen, the car left the garage.

Vlad wiped his sword clean on the dead man’s sleeve and thought,finally.

He would finally have his revenge for the evils his uncle had inflicted upon the world.

And, God willing, Val would never have to see any of them ever again.

~*~

Mia couldn’t catch her breath.

The Cadillac went around the fountain with a spray of gravel, fish-tailing, and then roared up the drive, through the massive iron gates. No one tried to stop them. No one shot at them. Trees enfolded them, and the round yellow headlights, so delightfully old fashioned, carved a path through an alley of close-set tree trunks.

In the back seat, she leaned forward and put her head between her knees, struggling to get her lungs to work right.

Val cupped his hand around the back of her neck. “Darling.” Laced with worry.

“I’m okay,” she panted. “I’m okay, I just…” It was hitting her all at once. “I can’t believe we just…didthat.”

His squeezed once, gently, comforting. But he didn’t give her any false platitudes or try to tell her how to think about it.

It would be…a while, she knew…before she could wrap her mind all the way around the entire chain of events.

She’d drunk blood tonight.

Become a vampire tonight.

Watched two men get killed tonight.

She cut a glance across Val’s lap – he was sitting in the center of the wide backseat – to the silent man with the long dark hair on the far side. She’d watched him drive a knife through two throats, and here he sat, totally unbothered, staring at the back of Annabel’s head.

She was still figuring out this whole incredible sense of smell thing, but he smelled…different. Like an attic trunk full of old books; a picnic tablecloth left out in the rain.

Val caught her gaze, the dark of the car more like twilight to her new eyes, and lifted his brows in silent question.

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