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His eyes held the light of a true believer. I didn’t even try to convince him that his god was really a monster. “What’s your name?”
“Abraham Stoker, lady. I manage the theatre.”
I did a double take. Okay, that explained a lot. “It has to be late. Go home and get some medical attention for your burns. If anyone asks, you were checking on a sauce here in the kitchen and pulled it off on you.”
He nodded but looked torn, so I upped the amp on Augusta’s suggestion. It used up a lot of energy, and I had to resist the impulse to snatch him to me for a quick bite. Being in a vampire body had its downsides.
Stoker started to leave, but jerked violently halfway to the door and came to a stop. His head swiveled around to face me, despite the fact that his body remained facing forward. Another inch and he’d break his neck. “Tell me, if you can, what sort of spirit are you, to so easily possess a master vampire?”
“I told you to go home!” I eyed him cautiously. His voice had sounded funny, lower and more in control.
“And I told him to stay. It seems we know who is the stronger here, do we not?”
I was getting a very bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Who are you?”
“I am one whom the vile blows and buffets of the world have so incensed that I am reckless what I do to spite the world.”
I blinked. “What?” He laughed, and it was a full-throated, sexy sound, one that I was fairly sure the guy I’d met blub-bering over his candles would never give. “Have you forgotten me so soon? When we met only last night?”
“Last night?” It took a second, but light dawned. “You’re that spirit from the ball!”
“Incubus, please, my lady.” I jerked in surprise. So that’s what it was. I’d seen plenty of incubi, but never outside a host. “May I presume upon our acquaintance to ask why you are here?”
“You first.”
He sighed. “I would prefer not to use this body any longer than necessary. It is in a large amount of discomfort. Trust the master to scupper my plans without even knowing what they are.”
“What plans?” It was making my neck hurt just to look at him. I moved so Stoker’s head wouldn’t be at that crazy angle anymore.
“But that is what we need to discuss.”
“Look, I really don’t have time to chat!” I tried to move past him, but the large body was blocking the door. “Get out of my way.” I could move him, of course—even without feeding recently, Augusta was stronger than a human—but I didn’t want to hurt Stoker. He’d had enough of that for one night.
“No, I do not think so. As I recall, I did you something of a favor at our last meeting. I expect you to return it.”
“Return it how?” I didn’t like where this conversation was headed.
“I require a body for the evening, and this one has been rendered useless. It will collapse at any moment. I need a strong body, and yours will do nicely.”
I backed up a step. “You can’t invade vampires.”
“No, but you can see me even without a body, as you proved at our first meeting. Very well. I will give directions, and you will follow them, and we will let this poor fellow go off to his soft bed and his shrewish wife.”
“I don’t have time to help you. I have my own job to do.”
He smiled gently. “Yes. You wish to help Lord Mircea imprison his dastardly brother and make Europe safe from his fiendish ways once more, am I right?” He laughed at my expression, and again it was that goose-bump-inducing sound. “I saw you with Mircea at the ball. I see his mark on you now.”
He paused because we both heard it at the same time—the ring of steel on steel from somewhere nearby. That would be all I needed, for Dracula to kill Mircea before Myra had the chance! I pushed at him, but he grasped my arm.
“Tell me, am I right? Is that why you are here—to save his life?”
I threw him off violently, not caring at the moment that poor Stoker’s hand hit the wall with a bone-crunching thump. “Yes! Now get out of my way!”
I ran past him, fairly flying toward the stage, and reached the wings in record time. On the boards, two figures were engaged in a sword fight like nothing I’d ever seen. Power sizzled and crackled around them, brighter than the sparks that were struck off their swords. I concentrated on Mircea, but if he’d been hurt there was no sign of it. He wore a white shirt open at the throat, and there were no bloodstains on it that I could see. His hair had come out of its usual clip and it followed his motions, whip cracking around his lean form as he flowed through complex moves with deadly grace. I blinked and looked away, forcing myself to concentrate. When I looked back, I got my first glimpse of his legendary brother.
Usually, I get a tingle up my spine when I see a vamp, but there was nothing this time. I wasn’t sure whether that was because I was in Augusta’s body, or because my brain was too busy screaming to focus. There was a strong sense of wrongness emanating from the vamp like nothing I’d ever felt. It was like the danger in the room had coalesced into a red mist, as if there was blood in the air. It went well with his dead white face and burning green eyes, the color of emeralds on fire. It did not go well with Augusta’s instincts, which were practically begging me to run.
The two vampires flowed through the motions of battle like it was silent, deadly poetry. Even with Augusta’s senses I had trouble following them, their blades were striking so quickly. The sound of clashing metal echoed around the theatre like machine-gun fire, and every time I blinked they’d moved yards away from where they’d just been.
