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“Excuse me?” Stephen stood up. “Mistake? That’s what I am to you, Istvan?”
Istvan looked at him as though he had forgotten Stephen was in the building. He stood up too. Severin and Nikolaus glanced at each other, remaining silent. “No, my love, I wasn’t talking about you.”
“Of course you weren’t.” Stephen stalked out of the room.
Istvan sighed and ran a hand through his chestnut hair. He turned back to Sam with his amber eyes blazing. “You and Bela are both responsible for what is going to befall us,” he said. “Do you think the owners of the club are going to be able to cover up so many deaths without the police getting involved? Post-mortems will be undertaken and we will all be outed. Panic will sweep through the city. It will be a bloodbath. We will all be murdered in our beds.”
Sam curled his lip. “Bravo, Istvan. You should have been an actor.”
Istvan lunged forward over the table and punched Sam in the face.
Sam crashed backwards over the couch and landed in a dazed heap, the full force of the vampire’s blow shattering his jaw and his cheekbone. The rest of the vampires were on their feet, staring, none coming to help him. Stephen rushed back into the room with a cry and bent over Sam, cradling his head.
Istvan stood over him, glaring down. “We’re done with you,” he said in a toneless voice. “You cannot be trusted to work to our mutual benefit in keeping us safe. I’m ordering you to leave Budapest immediately and never come back here.”
“No!” cried Stephen.
Istvan ignored him. He turned on his heel and left the room and one by one, the other vampires trooped after him.
Chapter Eleven
Istvan entered the bedroom with trepidation. His partner was pacing, chewing his nails. He whirled to face Istvan. “Why did you do it?”
Istvan was sullen. “You know why. He’s a liability. He’s going to get us all killed.”
Stephen shook his head. “You hurt him. You broke his jaw.”
“Nothing a good couple of meals won’t fix,” Istvan said.
Stephen stalked forward. He pounded Istvan on the chest with his fists and the vampire stepped back, astonished. “I don’t care!” Stephen cried. “He’s my friend and you’ve really hurt him. That’s not you, Istvan. You’re not the man I thought you were.”
Regret began to seep into Istvan’s anger. He had had to dish out justice to other vampires before during his long life, but such uncharacteristic violence was not part of his make-up. That was more Emil’s style. He shuddered at the thought that he might have become Emil’s successor as Bela had suggested. That maybe other vampires would start seeing him as the tyrant and despot that the German vampire had been. That they would fear him. He had no wish to be that creature of dread like Emil. No wish to dominate his brethren with an iron fist.
He swallowed and reached out for Stephen with a conciliatory hand. “You’re right. I don’t know what happened.”
Stephen shrugged away and turned his back to pace the room once more. “Sam is young. He’s alone and he’s naive. Just trying to do the best he can.”
“I know,” Istvan said and he started to feel deeply ashamed as he remembered what a terrible vampire he had been for the first hundred years of his life. A loose cannon, a liability, just as he had labelled Sam. How did he have any right to judge others? He remembered how Emil had punished him for his many indiscretions. Too many times to remember.
“You can’t order him to leave Budapest. He has lost everything—his home, his family, his friends. He didn’t ask you to make him into a monster.”
Istvan frowned. He grabbed Stephen’s arm and pulled him around to face him. Tears stood in Stephen’s eyes. “Is that how you see me?” Istvan asked. “A monster?”
Stephen looked away. “No. But I’m glad every day that you didn’t make me into a vampire.”
Istvan felt the yawning chasm between them then, something he had been trying to avoid seeing. He thought if he didn’t think about it, it would all go away. But how could it? He had been hoping deep down for a resolution, but he knew that resolution would involve Stephen’s death. How could it not? He had been as unwilling to make Stephen into a vampire as the human was to become one, but what other avenue was open to them, in the end?
Istvan tightened his grip, staring into Stephen’s blue eyes. He hesitated before he spoke his thoughts. “What happens when you get old?”
Stephen shook himself free from Istvan’s grip. “Then I get old and die. That’s how it happens for humans in case you can’t remember.”
“And what about me?” Istvan hated how pathetic his voice sounded.
When Stephen looked at him, his eyes were hard, but behind that, they were full of suffering. “What about you?”
“I will mourn you for the rest of my life,” Istvan said with a lump in his throat.
Stephen bit his lip. “That was always how it was going to be. You’re a vampire and I’m human. You’ll lose me. It’s life.” Stephen made to walk away but Istvan blocked his progress.
