AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And then James grabbed the reporter and me simultaneously, dragging us out of the ditch and up to a face as thunderous as I’d ever seen it.
Oh, thank god.
Someone to babysit.
I broke his hold and danced backward, and the expression somehow got worse.
“Immunity,” I reminded him, as the warehouse burned merrily behind us, as somebody with a bullhorn told us to drop our weapons, and as red and blue flashing lights announced the arrival of more cops.
And as a speedboat laden with a troll doll, a Hulk, and a tiny madwoman sped by on the water, with everybody onboard yelling at me.
“Watch that one! He’s trying to be a hero!” I told James. And then I took off, dodging through the chaos and getting up a good head of steam before hitting the side of the dock and jumping—
Straight onto the middle of the boat.
Damn, that was . . . that was pretty good, I thought, grinning, and grabbing for purchase. Granny grinned back. Fin floored it, sending a huge spray of water at the mages on the dock, who hadn’t been quite fast enough to catch me.
“Okay.” Fin told me breathlessly. “I admit it. You do a pretty good distraction.”
And then we were gone.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Mircea, Venice, 1458
The ship creaked and groaned, the old boards protesting the rough seas. It was raining again, with the skies as angry as the water. But this was a merchant ship, built to travel long journeys to distant ports. Mircea wasn’t worried about sinking.
It was almost the only thing he wasn’t currently worried about.
He couldn’t see too well. His head had landed sideways, cheek to unshaven cheek with the not-so-animated corpse below him. It nonetheless allowed him to stare outward at pile after pile of baby vampires, stacked like cordwood all along the sides and middle of the ship’s great hold. There were hundreds of them, their eyes closed, or open and staring blankly upward—either way, insensate. Unaware and therefore unconcerned about the fate that awaited them.
Unlike Mircea. Whose mental gifts allowed him the dubious advantage of knowing exactly what was happening, but not having any way to stop it. He struggled against whatever power was holding him, but didn’t manage to so much as wriggle a finger.
Merda!
The worst thing about this whole fiasco was that it was his own damned fault. He should have been more cautious. He should have expected a trap. And part of him had. He thought he’d been so careful. . . .
Not careful enough!
He’d picked up the strange angler with his human bait in the Rialto, the great marketplace of Venice, earlier that evening. It was one of the creature’s favorite fishing spots, especially right after dusk. Mircea hated that time of day. Even though the darkness allowed him to be out and about, he really wasn’t comfortable until the terrible sun had left to stalk another land entirely.
But the angler was stronger than he, and always made an early start of it. So Mircea had to as well. And then had to find him in the crowded zoo the Rialto turned into after dark.
Only the space-deprived Venetians would have put their abattoir, banking center, and marketplace all in one small area, leading to the sight of well-dressed men having to dodge flocks of goats, bawdy prostitutes trying to seduce wide-eyed farm boys, and clueless tourists having their pockets picked while they stared at Egyptian spices, Byzantine silks, Murano glass, exotic foodstuffs, and a crowd thick with Turks, Greeks, Spaniards, Slavs, Jews, and Moors.
And that was just on land.
The canal was busy, too, with everyone trying to pack up and leave at once, before members of the city watch showed up to levy fines—or a swift kick—to merchants staying open past the evening bell. It was chaos, as usual, and as usual Mircea found himself trying to avoid getting run over by a hefty woman chasing a live goose, or getting slapped in the face by the long sticks a boy had slung over his shoulder, strung with straw hats. All while trying to spot someone who was working very hard at not being seen.
But then, there were other senses.
Mircea slipped into the protection of a colonnade and closed his eyes. Immediately he felt calmer, his mind filtering out the noise and bustle around him, piece by piece. First the animals, with their squawks, bleats, and coos. Then the people, talking, laughing, fighting, and bartering. And finally the incidentals: waves slapping the side of the canal, wind whistling across the rooftops, a stray dog pissing against a column, music from a nearby tavern, and the smell of newly lit torches, sweaty bodies, and the sea.
Until there was only one thing left.
They were slippery gleams on his mental horizon, cool against the human heat, still against the bustle. Vampires, coming out of their sanctuaries, peppering the square. Most of them were bright to his mental eye, like jagged bits of lightning glimpsed through churning dark clouds. He mentally excluded them as well. He wasn’t looking for young and bright, but old and dim, someone who was hiding his true power, someone who didn’t want to be found, someone—
Like that.
