Blood Sin (41 page)

Elizabeth forced her numb lips apart. “Saloman,” she said hoarsely. He didn’t even glance at her. All his attention was on Dante, whose appalled and terrified face finally bore the knowledge that he had lost. Not only had immortality eluded him; mortality was upon him far quicker than it should have been.

Urgently, Elizabeth seized Saloman’s arm. “Don’t,” she pleaded. “Saloman, please don’t kill him like this.”

“How would you like me to kill him?”

“I don’t want you to kill him at all!”

His cold, compassionless eyes moved, gazing at her instead. The sword stayed where it was. Repeating the argument she had often used to him, he said, “It isn’t up to you.”

Her breath caught. She stepped in front of Dante, knocking the sword aside. At the last moment, he let her, shifting it so that it didn’t cut her.

“Yes,” she said grimly, “it is. I won’t let you do this, Saloman.”

“Elizabeth, what are you doing?” Mihaela said urgently. Her voice was high with fright. “Step aside, for God’s sake!”

“Get out of his way,” Konrad commanded.

Elizabeth couldn’t look at them. She had to hold Saloman’s gaze, make him understand that there had already been too much killing. It did cross her mind that the hunters might do something really stupid to save her, like trying to stake Saloman, and then the bloodbath would be unthinkable. It also crossed her mind that Saloman would not delay his justice even for her.

I will never kill you
, he’d said. But she’d never defied him when his blood was up, when he was aflame with anger. Except when he’d meant to kill her in St. Andrews and she’d confessed her love and kissed him. That had worked.

Before she could try it again, he reached out.

“Elizabeth, now!” Konrad exclaimed, and she felt the hunters move as one toward Saloman, with what intention she never found out, because Saloman only laid one hand on her shoulder and pulled her inexorably back against his body, where he held her, the sword again at Dante’s chest. Baffled, the hunters skidded to a halt once more.

“You can’t stop me, Elizabeth,” Saloman said. “Not this time.”

She twisted in his arm to look up into his face. “Then stop yourself. If it’s not up to me, it’s not just up to you either. It’s up to all of us. Isn’t that what you want? Eventually?”

Slowly, his gaze dropped to hers once more. “Why do you try so hard to save him? You’d have killed him yourself only minutes ago.”

“In a fight,” she acknowledged, “I might. This isn’t a fight. It’s murder. Please don’t do it. . . .”

“A strange distinction,” he observed, but she had the impression he spoke the words without thought. A faint frown marred his brow as he searched her eyes. “You
really
don’t want me to kill him.”

She couldn’t speak or even nod. It was as if all her energy were used in willing him to understand. And yet in all their dealings, she had never before recognized so clearly his difference from her and from everyone that she knew—his sheer, unpredictable
alienness
. Her arguments could not influence him; his justice was inhuman; there was simply nothing she could do. Words of persuasion, emotional pleas, all died on her lips unspoken. They could not save Dante.

Saloman lowered the sword.

Stunned, Elizabeth let her breath out in a rush. She closed her eyes in gratitude and profound relief, and slumped against him.

He said, “I have a feeling we’ll all regret this and I can say ‘I told you so.’ Until then, be gone before I change my mind.”

Dante, still not quite understanding that he was to be spared, had to be hauled to his feet by István, who pushed him toward the door, saying urgently, “Go, hurry. No one will save you next time.”

Saloman released Elizabeth and sauntered across the room. Only then, among the stares of the other hunters, did she see Mihaela’s expression. Not anger, or hurt. But pity.

Saloman paused, looking down at the old coat that had been Josh’s father’s and had covered the sword for all the time it had been in Josh’s possession. He bent and picked it up, then walked back to Josh. Konrad, standing in front of him, got out of Saloman’s way.

“Here,” Saloman said, dropping the coat into the stunned Josh’s lap. “It’s as valuable as the sword. And no one will take it from you.”

Then he turned once more and walked out of the room through the hole he’d made in the wall. Elizabeth’s throat closed up. She wanted to weep, to hug him with pride.

Blinking, she caught Dmitriu steadily watching her, and remembered everything he’d said the night he’d been taken. Dmitriu’s lips curved slightly. He made a bow that took in Elizabeth, Josh, and the hunters. It wasn’t entirely ironic. Then he followed Saloman over the rubble into the tunnel.

Elizabeth took a deep breath and said, “Okay, we’re going to need an ambulance. And what about the dead bodies?”

Chapter Twenty-one

T
he hunters’ organization took care of the dead; the injured were taken to the hospital, apparently unsure what they’d seen or done. The hunters seemed to think any babbling about stakes and bodies turning to dust would be put down to head injury and trauma.

Josh refused to go to the hospital. His only injury appeared to be chafed wrists where he’d been tied. “I’d rather just go to a hotel,” he said tiredly as they finally left his prison for the last time. He held up his slightly battered travel bag. “I still have this, complete with credit cards and passport—though I’d appreciate a lift.”

“I think you should be in company,” Elizabeth said anxiously, taking the bag from him. “At least for tonight.”

“There are beds at headquarters,” Konrad said. “I can take you there and someone would look in on you from time to time.”

Josh wrinkled his nose. “Forgive me, it sounds just like a hospital. I’ll take the hotel.”

“You could stay with one of us,” Mihaela said unexpectedly. “Except that the boys have grotty studios and I only have one spare room.”

Elizabeth cast her a grateful glance. Mihaela’s cool, comfortable flat with casual company was just what Josh needed for tonight. “I’d be happy on the sofa,” she said. “Josh should have the bed. Or he can’t come,” she added, as he appeared to be about to protest.

Josh laughed, and in that way it was decided. As Elizabeth finally climbed the dark staircase from the tunnels into the dim shelter above, she found Mihaela waiting for her. Beyond her, in the predawn gray light, Josh was walking a little unsteadily between Konrad and István.

“You can give me the bag, if you want,” Mihaela said.

“I can manage.”

“Yes, but there’s no point—you won’t be on the sofa.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Mihaela, Josh and I—”

“You might come back with us,” Mihaela interrupted, “but you won’t stay, will you?”

Elizabeth closed her mouth. Her whole heart, as well as her body, was crying out to be with Saloman. Mihaela had seen it all when she’d persuaded Saloman to spare Dante’s life. Not just that there was something between them, but the depth of her feelings.

“Mihaela . . .”

“End it, Elizabeth,” Mihaela said intensely. “If you must have tonight and you survive it, for God’s sake end it.”

“I can’t,” Elizabeth whispered, grateful for the darkness that hid her from Mihaela, that hid Mihaela’s accusing eyes from her. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried so hard, but I can’t.”

“Oh, God, Elizabeth.” Mihaela’s hands gripped her shoulders, her eyes shining like lamps as they stared into her face. “This has been going on since the night he took you from the Angel, hasn’t it? Jesus, no wonder you understood so easily about unsuitable lovers! But you
must
know this isn’t a relationship. You can’t have a relationship with a being who kills your people, who will kill you in the end.”

I will never kill you.
“He won’t.” Elizabeth gasped. “He won’t kill me. And
you
must know he isn’t insane, or even the unprincipled killer you thought he was. You must have seen that tonight.”

“He’s not exactly as we thought,” Mihaela allowed. “I’ll give you that.” Her fingers gripped tighter. “But he isn’t like us either. Whatever principles he has, they aren’t yours or mine. He’s a different species, stronger, more cerebral, perhaps, than the monsters we kill every day, but they are him too. Never forget that. You’re alive only on his whim.”

“Mihaela, it’s not—”

Mihaela’s grip changed, sliding up to Elizabeth’s face, which she held hard between her hands. “There’s more going on than you understand. There’s prophecy; there’s death and worse! God, even if he doesn’t kill you, he’ll kill your spirit. Look what he’s done to you already.”

Elizabeth stared at her. “What? What has he done?”

“Enslaved you,” Mihaela said harshly. “As surely as Dmitriu or any one of his minions.”

Elizabeth jerked back out of her hold. “Dmitriu isn’t enslaved. He loves him.”

Mihaela’s arms dropped to her sides. “As you do?” she whispered. “You
love
him? Oh, Elizabeth, please,
please
end this. Because you mustn’t, you really mustn’t fool yourself about this. He doesn’t love you. He can’t.”

The words twisted in Elizabeth’s stomach like a knife, even while she denied them. She stumbled backward, away from the source of her pain, but Mihaela kept talking.

“Oh, maybe he’s capable of passing affection of some kind, of loyalty, but that’s not what you’re looking for, is it? You’ve gone way beyond that, and you won’t find it with a vampire.”

“That’s the trouble, Mihaela,” she managed. “I have to look.”

Mihaela stood very still in the darkness. The silence echoed in Elizabeth’s ears. Mihaela twitched forward and Elizabeth tensed for the attack that Mihaela would perceive as for her own good. Elizabeth wouldn’t fight back; she’d run.

Mihaela’s breath caught on a sound that could have been anger or frustration. Her shoulders slumped. “Look, then,” she said dully. “Look and leave and come back to us safe. Please.”

Saloman was leaving it late. He could tell from the color of the sky, with the moon already gone, that the sun would not be long in rising. He had arranged to meet Elizabeth here on the Széchenyi Chain Bridge when it was over, and like a human boy on a date, he kept waiting just in case she still showed up.

He stared down into the depths of the Danube. The wide, seemingly endless river was just about all that was left of the city he remembered. He liked the new Budapest; he felt at home here. But sometimes it was good to be with the past. To remember past triumphs, past loves, past losses. To remind himself that everything passed.

There were many reasons for Elizabeth not to come, all of them valid. But it would have been good to stand here together, watching the river flow under them in the last of the night.

He had always known this would be difficult for her. When she was around the hunters, she was tugged both ways, and he rather thought the cat was out of the bag now, so far as the hunters were concerned.

Two more minutes to watch the Danube and the threatening light in the sky, to imagine her with him . . . to wish it so hard that in the end he wasn’t even surprised when at last it became reality. He sensed her presence as she approached from the castle side of the bridge, breathless from running. He felt the warmth of her arm as she rested it on the wall next to his. He smelled her blood, sweet and strong and eternally alluring. The bridge was empty save for the two of them: no cars or pedestrians to disturb the illusion that they were the only two beings in the quiet city.

There seemed to be nothing to say, now that she’d come, so he simply let the moment absorb him, soaking up the gladness of her presence. After a minute, she took her phone from her bag and handed it to him.

He glanced down at the screen at a text message from someone called Richard. It contained only two words: “Dr. Silk.”

He smiled. “You have your PhD.”

She nodded, taking the phone back and dropping it into her bag. “I’m glad. You worked hard on it and you wanted it so much.”

“It was something I needed. Proof that I’m good at something. Almost like a justification of my existence.” She gave a quick, apologetic smile. “I have confidence issues.”

“Less so,” Saloman said. One of his many delights in her was watching her grow.

She leaned her head on his arm, as if in gratitude. “The funny thing is, now that I have it, I’m not nearly as pleased as I thought I’d be. It doesn’t seem as . . . important, in the light of . . .” She waved her arm, encompassing both sides of the city, and meaning, probably, the whole world and all she was discovering in it.

“And what will you do now?” he asked, turning to face her and leaning back on the wall. “Go home and celebrate?”

She nodded. “I suppose I will.”

“And the hunters know you’re with me tonight.”

She swallowed, and he knew that whatever had passed when he left hadn’t been easy for her. He felt a spurt of anger at the hunters for interfering, for trying to spoil what she had found with him. He could imagine what they said, knew some of it, at least, was true.