Page 181 of Golden Eagle

Vlad was at Blackmere Manor, in a room paneled with dark wood, dominated by a massive desk, three chairs, and a low sofa. Tall, mullioned windows with the drapes corded back let in moonlight, and several lamps burned; a fire crackled in the grate, low and in need of feeding. Vlad – dressed in modern clothes, a plain black shirt, and pants, the clunky boots the guards wore – paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, hands clasped behind his back, hair loose on his shoulders, furrow between his dark brows.

On the other side of the desk, slumped down rather inelegantly in a chair, was the Necromancer, the mage Liam Price, his red hair wild like he’d finger-combed it, his shirt open at the throat, eyes underlined with heavy, dark bags like bruises. Fulk had described the injuries he’d suffered at Vlad’s hand. He was an immortal, and so he’d healed, but he wasn’t done healing; he looked exhausted and sick.

He was speaking when Val materialized in the room, his sharply-accented voice fuzzed at the edges with exhaustion.

“…it makes sense,” he was saying, eyes burning feverish, hand thumping the arm of the chair as he was gripped by strong emotion. “It goes all the way back to his origins; to thefounding. The triumvirate–”

“Ah, talking of Rome?” Val asked, and Liam nearly fell out of his chair he startled so hard.

Vlad simply came to a halt, lifted his head, brow smoothing, and said, “Brother.”

Val dipped his head. His brother the prince, the leader, the more dominant of the two. An old, courtly gesture that came naturally, unbidden. “Vladimir.” He used their mother’s chosen name for him, and offered a sincere smile afterward.

Gods, but it was good to see him. To see him awake, and whole, and healthy, and not hating him.

One corner of Vlad’s mouth twitched, the faintest ghost of a smile. And then he frowned. “I thought you would be well away.”

I thought you were safe,his expression said.I gave you leave to escape.

Oh, Vlad. “I am,” Val assured. “We made it to New York. To our friends.”

Vlad snorted. “Yourfriends.”

“Captain Baskin sends his regards,” Val said, grinning.

Vlad grinned back, all teeth, dark eyes glinting. “Do him a favor and show him how to wield a knife properly.”

“I intend to. Though, I think Mr. Dyomin should prove a good tutor.”

Vlad grunted in an agreeing way. “He’s not bad. For a mortal.” Scarce had so splendid a compliment been offered by Vlad Tepes.

“Ahem.” Liam cleared his throat delicately. When Val glanced his way, he found the mage sitting up straighter in his chair, an attempt at charm plastered across his tired, pale face. “Greetings, your grace. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Val turned back to his brother. “Vlad, he’s totally cowed. He lookssick. What have you done to the poor man?”

Vlad’s gaze sparkled. But his tone was low and flat when he said, “A forced binding. But necessary.”

“Excuse me,” Liam tried. And was ignored.

“I still can’t quite believe it,” Val said. “You with a mage. How did you keep yourself from breaking his neck and being done with it?”

“Excuse me.”

“Shut up,” Vlad told his Familiar. He turned back to Val, and drew himself upright, shoulders thrown back.Uh-oh, Val thought. That was the face of a warrior about to charge into battle. “He’s boastful and foolhardy, but he does know things. He has certain…powers.” The last he said distastefully, lip curling. The fact that he’d sent Kolya with them spoke to an unadmitted sympathy Vlad carried for the revenant, and a disgust for the man who’d dared to raise the dead. Did he think of Father? Val wondered. Or Mircea? Could a necromancer have raised a vampire from bone and ash?

It didn’t bear thinking about.

“Better the enemy you know,” Vlad continued. “He’s safer bound to me than allowed loose, and more useful alive than dead.”

Liam sighed. “I am no one’s enemy.”

Vlad turned to him – but did not silence him, his harsh look a kind of invitation.

When no orders were given, Liam looked to Val. “HowisMr. Dyomin?”

“Do you care?” Val asked, half-affronted, half-curious. “You didn’t bring him back for his own well-being.”

“Yes, well, I’m not a monster.” He glanced between them – between both their disapproving gazes. “Oh, no more a monster than either of you! I intended to use him as bargaining chip, yes, but that doesn’t mean I wanted him to suffer.”

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