Ashes to Ashes-Blood Ties 3 (41 page)

"You won't be here anyway, because you're not invited." Ever the teenager, Anne delivered the blow with practiced snottiness that would have been devastating to someone in the eleventh grade.

Max couldn't see what effect it had on the vampire. "So, when does she get here?"

"What, are you afraid?" She took a step closer, still holding the rope. A second tug set him swaying, just a bit.

He thrashed his legs. He hoped it looked like an attempt to keep her away.

"Is little Max afraid of the big, bad girl?" She squeezed the trigger again. Almost close enough. She was almost close enough, and his hands were nearly out of the cuffs. He'd have to time it exactly…

She took another step forward, raising the drill. "How about… the eyes?"

"How about, no?" Max swung forward with the momentum he'd built up, knocking the drill from her hand as he locked his legs around her rib cage. She'd made a mistake starting with his fingers, one that had worked to his advantage. Wet with his blood, the leather had become slippery. The missing digits made his hands small enough to slip from the cuffs, and the weight of his body did the rest.

He took her down with him. They landed with a thud, skidding across the bloodied marble. He didn't want to think about the sticky pieces of his former fingers getting crushed beneath them. He had her pinned now, so it would be a damn lousy time to get distracted. Before she could collect her wits to scream, he grabbed her head and twisted, snapping her neck. It wouldn't kill her, but it would sure incapacitate her. The vampire who'd been guarding Bella raced forward with a roar. Max grabbed the drill, depressed the trigger and caught him in throat as he charged. "Sorry, couldn't have you calling for help."

The vampire writhed on the floor, directly under the oculus. Max grabbed Anne's limp, unconscious body by the legs and pulled her beside her cohort. "Sorry, kid. You were a good egg, for a while."

Shielding his eyes, he pulled the rope, flooding the room with light.

"Max, no!" Bella screamed. In the blinding pain of the moment he saw her stand, and fall.

"Damn it, Bella!" If she'd have stayed put, his chances would have been much better. He skirted the direct beam of light, his skin sizzling from the limited exposure. He managed to scoop her up and deposit her into the chair again before he burst into flame.

"Will you be quiet? Do you want the whole freaking house to come in here?" He stopped, dropped and rolled into a shadowed corner. "Wheel yourself over here and let's go." The horror on her face as she approached broke his heart. He knew how he must look. Blood on his arms, dried and fresh. Mangled hand, missing toe. He couldn't have looked too hot
before
he'd inadvertently set himself on fire. The sickening stench of burned vampire reached them. Bella gagged and covered her nose.

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Lifting his head, Max saw the piles of ash where the bodies had landed. The blue ball of flame of Anne's soon-to-be-ex heart extinguished with a fizz.

"Hang on," Max instructed Bella. Then the wind came, making a maelstrom of the cavernous room, destroying the wooden shutters over the windows. Bella dived from the chair to shield him from the light.

"I have killed many vampires and that has never happened," she said, almost accusing.

"She was old," Max explained. "Despite what she looked like, she was really, really old." During the night, when he'd lain awake relishing what might have been his last few moments with Bella, he'd realized he would probably have to kill Anne. He'd imagined himself being somewhat more… sorry about it. Funny how having his fingers cut off a little bit at a time had changed his attitude.

Bella touched his shoulder, then recoiled. "You are badly burned. How will we escape here? You cannot fight. I will applaud you if you can walk."

"Well, prepare to give me a standing ovation, 'cause we're getting out of here." He climbed to his feet and flattened himself against the wall. "Forgive me if I don't help you up, but I think I've had enough barbecue for today."

Jumping down in her chair, Bella groaned. "If it comes to pass that I will never walk again, please do me the favor of killing me."

"At least you've still
got
all your body parts, working or not." He waggled his ruined hand at her. "Follow me."

He inched along the wall, avoiding the sunlight that now flooded across the floor. Getting to the door would be the hardest part. Once they were outside it, the chances of finding another open window were slim. Unless the Oracle didn't mind looking for new employees every dawn.

Another few steps and he would be there. If he didn't lose his balance and fall into a shaft of sunlight first.

As if in answer to a prayer he hadn't uttered, the light dimmed.

"Max, what is happening?" Bella asked, her last word nearly drowned out by the clang of steel shutters. The windows and oculus were covered, leaving them in darkness. Not a good sign. "Go!" he shouted, racing to grab her. But it was too late. The doors slammed shut before them.

"We are trapped," Bella whispered, eyes wide.

A mechanical whirring drew their attention to the other side of the room, A section of the tall paneling began to shift. Improbably, the whole section swung around re versing itself. On the other side was an attached dais with a large, ornate throne. And on that throne sat the Oracle.

Invisibility wasn't a subject I'd given much thought to. Still, I think my logical expectation would have been that being invisible would make you lose your inhibitions and become a little reckless. In reality, it made me feel exposed and overcautious. Maybe the situation would have been a little different if I were using my invisibility to spy on the men's locker room at the gym instead of sneaking into a house I'd tried desperately to escape from before.

When Cyrus ran the place, it had been crawling with guards. But he'd been paranoid. As I eased open one of the French doors leading from the terrace to the foyer, I noted that the

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Soul Eater seemed pretty confident no one would try and oppose him. Then the alarm went off.

For a split second I panicked. Since when had there been an alarm system? And I'd thought Dahlia had killed all the guards? Then I remembered that, though I might not have anyplace to hide, I was wearing the best camouflage possible. Still, being invisible didn't make me noncorporeal. Which became a real concern as the room flooded with guards. Oddly enough, some of them I recognized. They were the Soul Eater's personal retinue, trained to obey their master's whims, most likely on pain of death. They'd been there the night of the Vampire New Year, accompanying their master to his feeding. I'd probably get an extra helping of torture before they killed me.

I slipped into the corner under the stairs and watched as they assembled, praying none of them copied my get-out-of-the-way idea and discovered me. Fourteen of them milled about, weapons drawn—shiny, black stakes with gleaming metal tips—scanning the room in a state of determined readiness.

"Nothing here," one of them barked, both to the guards in the room and into his headset.

"I want two men at the top of those stairs, and stay there. Another team searches the servants' wing. I want two more casing the kitchen, dining room and ballroom. Go in threes to search the grounds. The rest of you get back to your posts, and keep your eyes open. They might have tripped the alarm to distract us. Go, go, go!" The guards scattered as quickly as they'd assembled. Somewhere, someone turned off the alarm, and an unnerving silence descended.

Creeping from my hiding place; I willed myself to stay calm. Someone hypervigilant—or a vampire—might be able to hear me.

The door to the study was open. I noticed no one had been posted there, so it seemed a good place to start. I was halfway across the foyer when I heard steps coming down the stairs.

Dahlia swept into the room, clad in a diaphanous black gown. Her sleeves fluttered behind her as she stalked toward the study. I froze, holding absolutely still to keep from making a sound. My palms grew damp. It became a little more difficult to keep my grip on the slick stone, my only camouflage.

She paused, turned her head slightly. Then, without warning, she spun and held out both hands. "Illuminate!"

The room flared with bright, white light. It penetrated the space where I stood and destroyed any shadow on the floor. Her eyes narrowed. She knew someone was in the room with her, she just couldn't see me.

"Let the guards handle it, my darling," a deep, cultured voice called from the study. It sounded almost like…

A visible tremor racked Dahlia at the sound of his voice. An almost identical reaction to what Nathan had experienced in the presence of his sire.

Oh, God
. Dahlia was the Soul Eater's fledgling.

It made sense, now. Why Dahlia had been feeding Cyrus information. She knew that eventually, she would find herself on the Soul Eater's dinner table. If she played both sides, someone might rescue her.

She'd lied to me. I was outraged, but not surprised. Dahlia was clever in ways that continued to mystify me. If I'd thought I'd had her—or her motives—completely figured

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out, I'd been a fool. No one would ever really know what she was up to. My mistake had been believing that she'd been sired by one of the Fangs, as she'd told me. She'd been in relentless pursuit of Cyrus's blood. Why would she have settled for a lesser prize? She could have had my blood the night I'd fed from her and she'd stabbed me. But she'd wanted power.

I followed her to the door of the study, timing my steps to echo hers. She tried to trip me up, once. I'd been counting on it. She'd have noticed by now that her spell book was missing. I'm sure she had a clue as to why the guards hadn't—and hopefully wouldn't—

find the intruder.

In the study, a fire burned in the fireplace. All of the lamps, delicate art nouveau creations, lit the room cheerfully. Seated at the desk, his long, white hair bound in a single braid that coiled on the floor, was the Soul Eater.

He turned at the sound of Dahlia's entrance, and smiled. He looked so much like Cyrus, but with the added mystery and elegance of age. My heart lurched in my chest.
But he's not me
, Cyrus reminded me through the blood tie.
He's so much worse than I
ever was
.

"You look lovely tonight," Jacob Seymour said, inclining his head in Dahlia's direction. "Is there some occasion?"

"None, really." She sank into a large, leather armchair with a winged back, looking like a queen on a throne. There was no way that was an accident. "I thought we could try the potion again, if you wanted to."

He made a noise of disgust. "We have been over this time and again. Julia has captured the werewolf and her vampire companion. We'll have the child soon enough."

"There's no reason not to continue as planned, though!" Dahlia sat up straighter, pounding the arms of the chair with her fists. Her knuckles were white with tension. "We have no idea if the child will be born vampire or werewolf. Or lupin."

"The baby will be a lupin," the Soul Eater retorted calmly. "A natural-born vampire and werewolf combined. What use would I have for a mere vampire child?"

"A right hand?" Now Dahlia was reaching. She'd outlived her usefulness and she knew it.

"A son. With the power of a natural-born vampire. Maybe if Cyrus had been—"

"My son Is not the issue!" The Soul Eater stood so fast he knocked over his chair and the delicate writing desk. Papers fluttered to the ground, all scribbled on in handwriting that I was sure belonged to him. I moved cautiously toward the desk as he continued to rage.

"I have warned you never to speak of him in my presence!" He advanced on Dahlia, throwing aside his overturned chair. It bounced off my legs and I muffled a shout of pain and surprise. Luckily, neither of them noticed, wrapped up in their rage and fear, respectively.

Dahlia crawled backward like a crab on her hands and feet, too tangled in her voluminous dress to create much room between her and the Soul Eater.

"I should destroy you now!" As his voice raised in volume, it grew in intensity, the voices of his past victims joining in the hellish chorus. I'd heard that voice once before, and I shuddered to hear it again.

"No!" Dahlia screamed, holding up her hands. "You need me!"

"Need you?" He continued to advance.

Carrie! Go, find what you have to and move on
! It was Nathan's voice in my head,

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