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“You did what?” I was sure I’d heard wrong.
“Jonathan is addicted to magic the way some humans are to drugs. But, as with drug addicts, he has difficulty finding a steady supply. Powerful magic users—the only kind that can appease his hunger—are not easy to catch. And even when he is successful, the sacrifice can only provide one ‘hit.’ Then the subject dies, and another must be obtained.”
“I don’t understand.” So why did I suddenly feel chilled?
“A master vampire can heal almost any injury, even a total loss of magic. He can be drained every night, yet still rise the next, as long as his head and heart are intact. He is the perfect, unending sacrifice.”
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe; the chill had expanded and everything was frozen, including my brain. I didn’t ask for details. I didn’t want details. I was suddenly hugely grateful that if we’d had to share a memory, it had been mine.
I swallowed. “How long?”
“I was his captive for a month. We had agreed to a week, but
Jonathan refused to let me go. He said… he said he liked my taste better than anyone he’d ever had.” I turned in his arms so I could see his face. One look in those eyes and I knew he wasn’t kidding. In the dim light they shimmered crystal, like sapphire viewed through ice, reflecting perfectly every emotion. “If Radu hadn’t found me, I might still be there.”
“Radu found you?”
“Yes. As my master, he was able to track me. I was in a stone-walled cell, too weak to break out during the day, and subject to Jonathan’s attentions every night. I had almost given up hope, until one afternoon I heard a voice outside my window telling me to step back. I didn’t recognize it—I had not seen Radu in years—but I thought it prudent to comply. Just as I did so, the entire wall broke away, leaving me staring at a dust-covered man trying vainly to control the rearing horse he had chained to the window bars.”
“That sounds like Radu.”
“Then the roof caved in.” It was said so deadpan that I wasn’t sure if I was being teased. But Louis-Cesare’s lips twitched, softened and curved into a smile. I laughed in relief. “It did,” he insisted.
“I’ve no doubt.” ’Du was many things, but a master engineer wasn’t one of them. “But I still don’t understand what happened at the plane. Why was Jonathan trying to blow you up?”
“He wasn’t. He has been trying to recapture me ever since I escaped, but had to be careful lest he risk making war on the Senate.”
“We’re already at war.”
“Giving him the perfect excuse. By destroying the Senate’s jet, he hoped to convince the family that I had been destroyed, too—that there was no need to search for me this time.”
“But… why haven’t you told the Senate? Why not let them take him out for you? As you said, we’re already at war with his Circle. What’s one more dead mage?” I’d be happy to do the honors myself.
“To pull resources away from the war for a personal vendetta would require my explaining the charges against him.”
“So?”
Louis-Cesare just looked at me. “How many people have you told about what happened to you that night, Dorina? How many know why it is you hate Dracula so intensely?”
I got the point. “No one. Mircea threatened Augusta with bodily injury if she ever so much as breathed a word. As far as I know, she never did.”
“And there was no one else?”
“No. Except for Jack. But as his master, Augusta’s word spoke for him, too. Why?”
“The spell we encountered in the caves… the only ones I know of are localized—linked to a specific place. We should have left it behind us when we came here. But those were your memories, were they not?”
I hesitated. Part of that scene had been familiar enough—the aftermath of Drac’s little torture session in London. But the last bit… that was new. I’d always assumed that Mircea wanted Drac kept alive because of some misguided sentiment. Now I wasn’t so sure. Maybe the old guy had more backbone than I thought. “Most of it. Maybe all of it. I don’t know—I wasn’t exactly at my best at the time.”
“Some legends say the Fey can induce visions. That they influence people in such ways.”
“Caedmon couldn’t have brought on that nightmare, even if he had a reason.” I slowly got to my feet, testing my body, relieved that it responded, if sluggishly. I was going to have to try to avoid getting beaten up for a few days. “There’s no way he could have known about it. No one could.”
I reached for Radu’s tunic, wanting to get on something a little warmer than a tattered T-shirt, but moved the wrong way. A bolt of pain shot through me—from the shoulder Drac’s boys had tried to wrench off. “Son of a bitch!”
“You aren’t healed.” Louis-Cesare stood up beside me, without his usual fluid grace. I bit back a wry grin—and we were Mircea’s invincible champions!
“I’m okay.” That Fey magic was something else, but it hadn’t replaced the considerable blood loss—only time would do that—not to mention that I’d had plenty of aches and pains even before the fight. But that was nothing new.
