Darkness Rising (Dark Angels 2)

I frowned. “Why? I mean, it’s not like another vampire couldn’t help you.”

“But they won’t. Robert’s line has been sentenced to death—each and every one of us. I am the last of his fledglings-in-waiting, and no vampire would dare take me into his care for fear that going against the council’s edict would doom their own nest.”

My frown deepened. “Fair enough, but I still don’t see why you’d be sentenced to madness when you’re converted. I mean, you seem sane enough now.” Or as sane as anyone hell-bent on revenge could get. “Why would that change when you die and become a vampire?”

“Because the step from life to unlife is a traumatic one—not just because you die and are reborn, but because every new vampire is hit with a veritable sensory overload. It takes years for any newborn to learn to eat, walk, and talk, and it is no different for a newly turned vampire. That is why a fledgling’s master is so important. They keep us safe, keep us in line, and—most important—teach us.”

That being the case, I could understand her bitterness and need for revenge—and it didn’t make my task here today any easier. I might sympathize, but I still had a job to do. One I had to finish if I didn’t want to end up a victim of the high council.

“Look, the council’s full of bastards, we both know that, but murdering them isn’t going to solve your problem. You’ve killed two already. Why not call off the Maniae—or, at least, offer the council a trade?”

“And why would I do that?”

“Well, it’s not so much Whitfield’s death that has pissed you off, but the fact that you’ll be left in isolation thanks to their ban on helping his fledglings, right?”

She nodded, amusement bright in her blue eyes. I had a sudden suspicion she was only humoring me, that she was waiting for something—or someone—else.

I resisted the urge to look around, although every sense I had seemed to be on high alert, and the hairs on my arms were standing on end. But other than the increasing sense of wariness and the strange way the fire was moving, nothing appeared out of the ordinary.

I continued, “So with two councilors already dead, why not contract the council and offer a trade? Their lives for yours? It seems a sensible option to me—especially if all you really want is the opportunity to survive.”

She considered me for a moment, then turned her gaze to the flames again. After a moment, she nodded. “It is, indeed, a sensible option.”

“Meaning, I gather, that you’re not into sensible right now?”

“Not when it comes to the council, I’m afraid. They enjoyed Robert’s passing far too much when they could have—and should have—stopped it.”

And how, exactly, did she know that? She couldn’t—not unless she was there, and there was no way she would have been. Whatever else this woman was, right now she was still human. As such, she would never have gotten anywhere near a council meeting.

“So who’s your source on the inside?”

She smiled. It was a cool, calm, and altogether too-collected smile. “And why would you think I’d tell you that?”

“Because you have something planned that you don’t think I’ll survive,” I replied evenly, “And therefore you have nothing to lose.”

She laughed. It was a warm, rich sound, and the flames seemed to shiver away from it, as if afraid. I eyed the fire curiously. It really did seem alive, but that was ridiculous.

Wasn’t it?

God, I wished I knew more about not only magic, but also the creatures that inhabited the realms beyond my own. I had a bad feeling I might be confronted by one of them soon.

“You could be right,” she said, leaving me wondering if she was answering my thoughts or my comment. She studied me for a moment, then added, “but I’ve always hated those movies where the bad guy just blabs about all his plans, and then everything goes to hell and the good guy saves the day. So I don’t think I’ll be saying anything more.”

Well crap, I thought, and flexed my fingers. I was going to have to do this the hard way.

“Look, as I said, I’m not here to harm you. But by the same token, I will have to take you back with me.”

“And I,” she said calmly, “have no intention of going anywhere.”

“Please don’t make me force you—”

She gave a cold, humorless laugh. “My dear child, there is no way in heaven or hell you could force me to do anything. Now please, leave this place.”

“I can’t—”

She sighed dramatically. “I suppose it was too much to hope that you would.”

With that, she flicked a hand, the gesture almost casual. But there was nothing casual about the result.