A Vampire's Claim (57 page)

The second they vanished, Dev lunged into the battlefield, for Danny fell to one knee, the blade clattering to the ground. He caught her before she could join it there, and felt somewhat relieved when her hands clutched his arms. “You are an idiot,” he informed her. “No offense, my lady. Ah, Jesus.” This close, holding her, he could see how truly pale she was, the glassiness of her eyes, the faint tremor in her body. “A half hour’s not going to be enough.”

“Yes, it will.” Though he wanted to get right to giving her blood, she was staring up at him in a way that suggested she wasn’t ready for that yet. Her fingers touched his jaw as he settled to the cobblestones, stretching out one leg beneath both of hers, his other knee up to support her back along his arm, cradling her. “It’s nice to see you again,” she said. “Why did you . . . Ah, God. You figured it out, and you’re being bloody noble. I’m
not
your obligation.”

“That cold wind thing Lady Lyssa does would have been nice for us to have when we were in the desert.”

“It’s not a vampire gift. She’s got Fey blood. And don’t change the bloody subject.”

Spearing his fingers through her hair, he cupped the back of her head, gave her a hard look. “Can you drink before we argue? I’d like you to be around to finish our fight.”

“I wouldn’t . . . He wouldn’t kill me. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Yeah, so I heard. You think I’d be all right with that, knowing you’d become his bitch hound, and those poor kids still suffering?”

“You weren’t supposed to know, one way or another. And I’m supposed to beat him, so it’s a moot point.”

“You’ve got that one right. Drink, damn it.” Realizing she might be too weak at this point to cut a vein herself, he drew his knife.

“Which cup you want it out of, love? Throat or wrist?”

She was studying him in that intent, mysterious way of hers, but before he could take the decision from her, make an incision and force it to her lips, she slid her hand to the side of his throat. He took his cue, tightening his arm around her slim back to bring her close to it, lifting his chin and feeling a wave of inexplicable emotion choke him as her teeth sank in and she began to drink, take what she needed from him. Putting the other arm around her, too, he held her closer.

I have to drink a little more than usual, Dev. I’m sorry.

You take everything you need, love. It’s all yours. Unless you’re doing it to keep me too weak to try to kill that bastard if
he does anything else to you.

You’d never get near him. You can’t fight a vampire.

It isn’t always about succeeding, love. Sometimes it’s just the doing. And if you lose, but I’m dead, you can still take his
final victory from him, can’t you?

She pulled away briefly, and he felt the seep of blood as she gave him a look that was far more like herself. “I told you I won’t be your death wish, Dev. Not now, not ever.”

When she put her mouth back on him, he gave her the answer to that.
It’s not that, love. I’m not sure I could stand to be
around if you’re not. I won’t bear anyone harming you, you hear?

Her grip on his shoulder slid around so the fingers were at the base of his skull, caressing his hair. For only a moment, he felt a trickle of the feeling moving through her, but it was enough to make him cinch his arms around her, his thoughts speaking forcefully into her mind.

I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. Even if you lost, I’d stay. I won’t let you be alone, no matter what they do to us
both.

You don’t have to stay. You’re—

“I’m your servant.” He said it out loud, cutting over her. He was feeling a little light-headed. Jesus, but the blood rushed out of the throat fast. He could feel her closing it up, doing that provocative little teasing thing she did with her tongue to make it clot, sealing the vein. When she leaned back, he was glad to see there was color seeping back into her face, though her body was still too heavy in his arms for his liking. But her eyes were riveted on his face.

“I’m your full, fucking human servant, and that’s what I’m going to be for the next several hundred years or so. At least that’s what the judge says this convict’s sentence is.” He gave her a wry grin, but his heart tore with the effort of it. “You did it, so you’re going to have to put up with me, you hear? You can’t change your mind in a few years and realize you’d like some English butler type who will ‘yes, m’lady’ and ‘no, m’lady’ you and kiss your arse. You’re going to have to put up with a rough stockman who speaks his mind, but who’ll manage the hell out of your place.”

He stopped abruptly, realizing he was talking nonsense. She could, of course, do whatever the hell she pleased. He wasn’t going to bloody beg her.

“Dev?” The scattershot of his thoughts was dispelled by her soft voice, the way her blue eyes rested on his face. “You don’t understand what you’re getting into.” But her hands were curling into his arms, and he hoped it was because she didn’t want to let him go.

“No, I don’t. No bloody bloke understands what he’s taking on when he tells a woman he’s going to stand by her no matter what.

I can handle the sheep and the books, drought and dust storms. But your moods, and Lord God, the dinner parties, are going to take me some time.”

Her lips curved. “We’ll see if we can’t take those slow, then. We have more picnic races out in the station area than vampire get-togethers. I like the way you dance, bushman.” But then the serious look came back into her eyes. “Why, Dev?”

Because, of all the things I’ve seen, people are what they are. You either accept them that way or move on. You have to
accept what you are yourself, as well.

“So you decided not to move on.”

He nodded, meeting her gaze.

What type of person does that make you, I wonder?

“I guess God will answer that one day,” he said. “Until then, I’ll answer to you, my lady.”

“When it suits you,” she said, reading the unconscious flow of his thoughts. He looked startled, but then matched her smile.

“Well, I did say you’d picked the wrong person if you were looking for someone who says ‘yes, marm’ all the time.”

She squeezed him. “It’s good to have you here, Dev. I’m as fit as a mallee bull now, but think you can help me up? We can talk more about this . . . after.”

“Right-o.” Clearing his throat, he got to his feet, and lifted her onto hers, inspecting the slice on her side, which had almost healed now, as well as the pink on her arm. “You need some more.”

She shook her head. “I can’t take any more of yours without debilitating you for a much longer time. And I’m not sure it would make much difference at this point.”

“Then you’ll take mine.” Lyssa had returned, and she stepped into the courtyard now, studying the two of them, Danny in particular, as she turned. “Because it
will
make a difference.”

“My lady.” Danny seemed at a loss for words. “You’ve already done me a great service.”

“Your man has done
you
a great service, pulling us out of bed, something I will be certain to take in trade next time he’s at one of
my
dinner parties.” She gave Dev a veiled look, but she was already unbuttoning her cuff and pulling back the sleeve. “There’s no time, girl. Take more.”

“You—”

“I trust you, Danny,” Lyssa said gently, drawing her forward with a hand on her arm. “Take it now, and no argument. You’ve only got about a quarter hour left.”

Danny nodded, and then surprised Dev when she went to one knee by the petite woman, an act of decided deference as she put her mouth to the woman’s wrist. “Keep my arm steady, Dev,” Lyssa said. When he moved forward, sliding his hand under her forearm to form a three-way link, Danny bit, much more carefully than with him, he noted with grim amusement. Lyssa absently lifted a hand to stroke it over Dev’s hair, along his back and to his arm, giving him a pet while allowing his Mistress to drink.

Another small price she was extracting, he expected, but he found the sensual touch almost reassuring, a connection between the three of them.

When Danny sealed the wound and rose, she did it without help this time, and the color was back in her cheeks. There was also a bolstering flash to her eye. “My thanks to you both.”

Lyssa inclined her head. “Your mother, before she lost her mind through grief, would have been very proud of you, Danny. Live up to your family today. Take this bastard down.”

“I will.”

“I suppose you understand, now that we’ve interfered, if he wins, he’ll do it by taking your head. He will not permit you to leave this property, and that’s the only fair way he can accomplish it.”

“No.” Danny shook her head. “When he comes back, I’ll make it clear I’ll honor our bargain, no matter your presence or what Alistair said. If he wins, I won’t leave here. I won’t sacrifice Dev.”

“Yeah, you will.” Dev took the lead now, taking her hand and giving her a hard look. “We stand or we fall together, love. Don’t piss me off by doing it half measure.”

Dev had been through bombings, ambushings, even faced off with tai pans and crocs, and a near deadly run-in with a funnel web spider once. He didn’t care about his life. It was what it was, and if it ended today or tomorrow, it was of no great consequence to the world. But he didn’t want anything to happen to her, and that issue was oddly disconnected to what would happen to him if she was struck down.

As he saw her register it, he sent her another thought, one intended to dispel the somber cast of her eyes, to bring back the flash of fire.

It’s a moot point anyway, remember? You’re going to take his ruddy head.

Unfortunately Ruskin returned with restored spirits as well and renewed determination. He couldn’t have what he wanted, but it was obvious, as Lyssa implied, that he would improvise. Dev could imagine his thought process. If he struck down a born vampire of consummate fencing skill, like Danny, that might improve his standing in the eyes of others.

The duel resumed. The four vampires were in the corners again, but they were unarmed now, and their attention was diverted between their sire and Alistair and the deceptively relaxed pose of Lady Lyssa. The latter was seated in a chair while Alistair leaned against the courtyard wall behind her, his eyes watchful, dangerous. Nina and Thomas were within sight of the vampires, but on an upper balcony overlooking the courtyard, well away from the action.

As for Dev, he’d chosen a squat on the ground just outside the match boundaries, balanced, solid on one foot, the other heel out, a pose he could hold for some time and which kept him from jumping up and surging forward each time Ruskin pressed an advantage.

She still wasn’t full on, but she was doing a hell of a lot better, and the sneak suspicion he’d had about her was being reinforced.

Those forward lunges, her deft counterattacks, the parry and ripostes, showed her footwork was better than Ruskin’s, her compound attack strategies and secondary intents obviously superior. This time it was the older vampire whose breath started to labor, though hers did as well. They’d nicked each other a few times, and she’d managed a good cut across his side once, quid pro quo for his earlier take in that area.

Back and forth, the cobblestones ringing with the sound of crossed steel, the shuffle of slippers and boots. At first, so involved in the duel, Dev didn’t pay attention to the weather, but then he noted the stars had disappeared and the wind was kicking up. A flash or two heralded the impending storm, and thunder began to be heard over the constant roll of the ocean off the cliffs where Ruskin’s home was built.

A Darwin lightning storm was an extraordinary phenomenon, but Dev could have wished for better timing. The wind started blowing out the torches, so soon the vampires fought in darkness, silhouettes that spun and moved in full shadow, making it hard for him to see who had the advantage. He couldn’t see Lyssa or Alistair to gauge their reactions, either.

But then the flashes began to spin into a full-course light show, shards of light cracking through the air above them, giving the display of skills an ethereal spotlight from time to time, catching the flash of an eye or baring of a fang, the glitter along a blade or curve of a guard. They had to treat wind as a factor, of course, with it whistling in through the various entry points to the courtyard.

A particularly loud crack came in darkness, a clatter, and he saw one of her sabers skitter across the ground, coming to a spinning stop close to him. When he reached for it, Alistair spoke sharply. “No. This is their fight.”

He might have ignored him, but Dev’s attention was caught by the two combatants. They appeared to be grappling. Then they pushed away and Ruskin lunged forward, skewering Danny through the abdomen.

Dev surged to his feet as she screamed, but her other blade was in motion. With a savage snarl, she brought it around in an erratic sweep. On a strobe of lightning and Ruskin’s bellow, he saw her notch it under his ear, the force of the swing biting into his neck enough to hold the blade in the bone, but not enough to go all the way through. A brief glimpse of her savage, blood-smeared expression, then she was in darkness again. Her silhouette held there for one more blink while Ruskin’s body jerked, his strangled scream of rage vibrating through the air. When his arms started flailing, trying to grasp or knock out the blade, she let go of the weapon.

Dev was unable to follow her with his eyes, but he felt the breeze of her passing, heard the scrape of the other saber on the stone.

As Ruskin staggered, trying to reorient himself, lightning flashed again. So Dev
did
see her sweep back in over the other blade and take his head.

Thunder reverberated, a low growl. Dev went for his knife. Alistair and Lyssa were already moving as the four young vampires lunged forward, their movements strobed by a staccato of storm flashes. The thunder’s voice was enhanced by a warning hiss from Lady Lyssa, a chilling sound that came from the darkest worlds of children’s nightmares. Though Alistair had drawn a pair of wickedly sharp daggers, that one sound settled in the vitals with the weight of imminent death, bringing Ruskin’s progeny to an uncertain halt.