Blood Sin (36 page)

Dante stared back at Dmitriu, who was pretending to be asleep once more. With uncharacteristic uncertainty, he tugged at his lower lip.

“All right,” he said at last. “Let’s give him tonight. And if he hasn’t agreed by sunset tomorrow to the more certain method, we’ll force him and hope for the best.” Euphoria surged up with the decision. At last. At last, one way or another, he’d get this over with and achieve his goal.

Saloman discovered her at dusk, in the Matthias Church near the castle. She sat alone at the end of a middle pew, reminding Saloman of another church in which he’d found her and teased her because she’d amused and intrigued him even then. Now, her pale, anxious beauty moved him beyond words; her loneliness and her pain hurt him as if they were his own.

If I win, if I finally have her with me as my own
,
what will I do with her?

Although the church closed to tourists at six o’clock, neither the priests nor their helpers moving about the place seemed inclined to eject her. Perhaps they sensed her need.

Saloman moved silently to take the seat beside her. Her eyes closed, making it hard to determine whether his presence was welcome or not. In this city more than any other, her loyalties were divided, and Josh’s danger was eating her up.

She said, “This is one of my three favorite churches in the world.”

Saloman wasn’t surprised. There was beauty and peace and rich memory in every stone. When it had first been built, back in the eleventh century, he’d considered it a monument to human artistry and ingenuity—and they’d managed it almost entirely without him. It had had a somewhat checkered career since then, going through expansions and remodels, a spell as a mosque, bombardment, and finally sensitive and appealing restoration. It was medieval colors that once again decorated its walls and vaulted ceilings. A large part of Saloman’s life was reflected in this place, and he was glad she cared for it.

“What are the others?” he asked.

“St. Chapelle in Paris and St. Andrews Cathedral.” After a moment, her hand slid over his on his thigh and threaded through his fingers. “I missed you,” she whispered, and the ache of pleasure and hope began again.

He curled his fingers around hers. “Then come with me.”

She opened her eyes and turned her face toward him. “Where? Have you found them?”

“I’m closer. Together, I think we can do it.”

Chapter Eighteen

I
t had been six months since she’d been here, and Saloman’s “palace” had gained a little more furniture, a few more paintings, and rich carpets underfoot. In the drawing room where he had once seduced her, preparatory to killing her, there were now a harp and a grand piano and a large mahogany bookcase full of books.

Elizabeth sank onto the velvet sofa and drank some bottled water before she opened the plastic container full of goulash and salad ordered from a take-away shop en route. Saloman sat gracefully on a cushion by her feet and watched her eat.

It was ridiculous, this happiness at just being with him, this feeling that now, because he sat by her side, the ills of her world would all be solved. Josh would return unharmed and Dante would be stopped and sent home to be a good senator. The sword would be safe. And she . . . What the hell would she do? Leave him again?

Everything in her ached for him, ached with the happiness of just looking at him, ached with the pain of some future parting she couldn’t bear to contemplate. Warmth flooded her with secret joy as she remembered Dmitriu telling her how special she was to him. His companion.

She drew in her breath, trying to focus on the present. “I’ve been angry with Josh,” she blurted, lifting a forkful of the tasty stew. “Angry with him for running away, for being so stupid as to get caught and have the sword taken from him
again
.”

She chewed and swallowed before adding ruefully, “And then I’m angry with myself for not watching him, for distracting Dmitriu, for not convincing him, for being too involved with you to trouble understanding him.”

“And then you’re angry with me. I get it.”

She glanced at him over a fresh forkful. “Are you really closer to knowing where they are?”

“I know they’re underground, somewhere in the vicinity of the castle. I know Travis and his cohorts are there guarding them.”

“How do you know this?”

Saloman shrugged. “I’ve felt Travis’s presence since we arrived in Budapest. Off and on. Largely off since Josh and Dmitriu disappeared. But he makes odd brief appearances, as do his minions, largely in the Castle District. I sensed Dante too in that area, appearing there from nowhere and returning to his hotel close by. But wherever they’re disappearing to in between times, wherever Josh and Dmitriu are, is well masked by enchantment as well as stone. I could sense them if I got close enough, but so far I haven’t.”

He paused. “Keep eating. You need to be strong.”

Obediently, she shoveled some more goulash and reached for her bottle.

“Then, this morning,” he continued, “I went to see Dante in his hotel. And in his mind I saw . . . this.”

A bare, dank room full of darkness and threatening shadows, and Josh curled with cold in a corner. Elizabeth gasped at the sudden vision, and would have dropped the bottle if Saloman’s hand hadn’t closed around hers. She had grown used to his words and ideas in her mind, but never before had he sent her anything so startlingly visual. The experience as well as the content shocked her to the core.

“That’s where we have to look,” he said relentlessly.

“But how? That . . . dungeon could be anywhere!”

“The vision of it will strengthen our telepathic links, and together we boost each other’s strength. At the time of Dante’s thought I had an instant only to assure Dmitriu I was looking, but he’ll be ready now, and with luck, so will Josh. He has the same latent telepathy as you do, and I think you can reach him.”

Elizabeth set her bottle on the floor and gazed at him. It seemed a massive leap from the vague empathy with Josh she’d explained to the hunters to the kind of vivid telepathy she shared with Saloman. She’d always assumed it was Saloman’s power that drove the connection between them, but perhaps he was merely more adept at manipulating it. Recently, she had reached him with more ease, so it was possible her telepathic powers were growing. Excitement rose, forcing her to catch her breath.

“With what purpose?” she asked. “How will that help?”

“They can tell us what they know of their position, and once the link is strongly established, we can follow it and find them.”

“And then?” Her heart was beating fast. “You could get them out? Single-handedly?”

Saloman’s lip quirked. “We could both go.”

Fighting side by side as they had in New York . . .

But she realized he hadn’t answered the question. Saloman had no need to go in single-handedly. He had a city full of vampires who could and would follow him. He’d probably already put out a shout for volunteers.

And he would take the sword.

As if he heard her thoughts, he said, “You’re thinking too far ahead. First, we have to find out where they are. Have you finished eating?”

She nodded dumbly, and he took the container from her lap and set it beside the water bottle on the floor.

“Give me your hands.” He held his out in peremptory fashion and she took them, sliding onto the floor opposite him. His eyes, gazing into hers, seemed to soften and flame at the same time, twisting through her heart to her core.

Unexpectedly, he lifted her hands to his lips, one after the other, reminding her unbearably of her seduction in this very room seven months ago. A battle to win her life and achieve a night of unprecedented sexual pleasure. She’d won both and been so in love after it that she hadn’t been able to think straight since.

What the hell was she fighting for now?

Love . . .
Was that her thought or his? It didn’t matter.

He whispered, “I want to make love to you very badly. When this is over, you must come to me. We’ve tried it your way and it doesn’t work.”

She swallowed. “What is your way?”

His mouth hovered over hers. “All ways.”

She couldn’t be still as the lust shot through her, making her wriggle. She could make out the texture of his lips, every crease, every tiny, sexy movement, and she couldn’t help brushing them with her own.

“Later, Saloman. When we’ve found them.”
Now, oh, now, before we do anything else, just one quick, hard, delicious fuck . . .

Shocked at herself, she let out a gasp that was half laugh and part sob, and drew back from him. “Show me your vision again,” she said shakily, “and tell me how to reach him.”

Elizabeth? Of course not, I’m dreaming. . . . Good dream, though, because I’ve been wanting to say sorry to you for running out like that. I should at least have said good-bye and thanks; and seeing the mess I’m in now, I know you were only trying to look out for me.

It had taken a long time, emptying her mind of every extraneous thought, even Saloman’s disturbing presence, so that she could concentrate on Josh, particularly on Josh as seen in the nasty vision Saloman had extracted from Dante’s head. The setting helped, as Saloman had said it would, had given her a context in which to put her thoughts and her call to him.

Several times she knew she reached him, knew she had entered his mind. But he ignored her. It wasn’t like the calls to Saloman that bounced back when he blocked her. Josh wasn’t blocking, merely unaware. He shook his head, as if trying to clear it of thoughts of her, making it doubly hard for her to stay in.

The work was exhausting, but with Saloman’s strong, steady hands holding hers, she felt sustained and kept trying. However, Josh had fallen asleep before he finally answered her, and the excitement after such a long silence nearly startled her back out of his mind in the sudden desire to crow to Saloman of her cleverness.

Restraining herself, she calmed down and let Josh babble a little.

If they kill me, I’ll be glad I’ve spoken to you.

They won’t kill you, Josh
, she said severely.
Not if we can find you. Tell me where you are.

I don’t want to think about where I am.

Then tell me how you got there
, she said patiently.

They jumped out of a car, within spitting distance of that warehouse you took me to. Travis and his cronies. They grabbed me and drove me through the city.

Here, Elizabeth felt the fear swamp him again, and as it spread through her, she gripped Saloman’s fingers so hard he should at least have winced.

Where to?
she asked.
Where did they stop?

Near the castle . . . They dragged me out of the car and then Dante drove off, leaving me with
them
, and God help me, that was more terrifying than any of it. Dante was the boss, that was obvious, but at least he’s the same species. . . .

It’s all right
, Elizabeth soothed
. I understand. What happened then?

I was terrified he—Travis—was going to bite me, kill me, but he didn’t. He
. . .
he
. . .
jumped into the air with me, almost as if he were flying. Jesus Christ, I nearly wet myself.

Yes, I’ve been there
, Elizabeth said ruefully.
Where did he jump to? Did you look?

The height and the angle were dizzying, but through Josh’s memory she saw the walls of Buda Castle in darkness, the sheer jump downward and the sickeningly fast run through courtyards and down pitch-black steps to a cordoned-off workman’s tarp, pulled up to reveal a deep, dark hole—down which the vampire jumped, still carrying the screaming Josh.

Josh, you’re wonderful
, Elizabeth told him warmly, working hard to keep a lid on her excitement so that she didn’t lose this connection.

Not very. I kept my eyes tight shut until they dumped me in here. And now even the terror of that first night seems better than the boredom of being here and the intermittent bouts of panic that I’m going to die.

Where are you now? Show me.

I can’t. I’m asleep.

Open your eyes. You can still speak to me when you’re awake if you just keep thinking of me. Think of me trying to reach you with my mind, and then we can reach you in reality.

There was a pause, then:
I’d rather be asleep.

No, you wouldn’t.

Shit!

Open your eyes; look around you, as if you’re showing it to me. You
are
showing it to me.

The connection with him seemed to waver and she held on grimly, repeating his name, asking him to hold on, to keep talking as he hauled himself out of sleep. As if he spoke the words, she heard him wondering whether he’d been dreaming, felt his wave of desolation and loss, his sheer fear to be waking in such a place, in such a situation.