The small child being berated by the dangerous adult when she didn’t complete the crossbow breakdown in the time he had set her because her fingers were slippery with my blood from being made to do it over and over.
“There is never a complication. You failed, girl. Get back to London and we can debrief.”
“That’s the complication. I can’t get out of Budapest,” I say rapidly.
I hear him sigh with extreme disappointment.
“Of course you can. You’re not as stupid as you look. Get back to London. I’ll speak to you when I see you.”
He terminates the call, and I feel colder than ever. I am useful to my family for one reason only. The man who was supposed to raise me, supposed to care for me after my parents died, became my torturer instead. I was being prepared for great things, or so he said.
I couldn’t wait to leave. And my eighteenth birthday, when I left for university, was the best day of my pathetic life.
Not that it lasted for long. The family business soon came back to haunt me. And nothing changed after the monsters revealed themselves to the world.
As long as the Yeavering remains, we will be ready to dispose of the threat.
A tram rattles to a stop, and I race over to it. Yet again, I have a yellow and cream lifesaver as I jump on board and sit down, attempting to get my breath. I have to hope it’s taking me in the direction of my hotel because once I have my belongings, I’m leaving Budapest.
Dominik Király can shove his offer up his muscular, chiseled arse.
“Thinking about me?” The words are dropped into my ear like honey.
The creeping sensation which hasn’t left me since I got on the tram intensifies.
“Don’t turn around,” Dominik says. “And get off at the next stop.”
“Why in the name of everything unholy should I trust you?” I growl through gritted teeth.
“Because.” His baritone voice has the smoothest of Hungarian accents. “These are not my vamps.”
The creeping sensation evaporates like mist and is replaced by ice chilling me to my very core.
“You didn’t send them?”
“Why would I? This is my city. I know everything,” he replies. “Get off here,” Dominik adds as the tram slows.
My legs make the decision for me, as I find myself out the door and onto the frozen, snow-covered street. Wind whips the ice around us as Dominik puts his arm around my waist and with very little effort pulls me down a side street where the noise of the city is cut out by the softly falling flakes.
“Wait! Where are we going?”
“Unless you want to be the first Van Helsing to die in a vampire attack in a century, you’ll do exactly as I say.”
We move swiftly, partly because Dominik has hold of me and is easily lifting me off the ground over the snow drifts, down the narrow street filled with cars and the occasional pile of debris from a ruined building, until we reach an impressive but ancient ornate double door. In seconds, we’re inside, and I shake the snow from my head and coat.
The light is dim in the vestibule we’ve found ourselves in and there is an overpowering smell of decay.
“I’m not sure this has improved our situation,” I grumble. “Or rather my situation, given I’m stuck in the dark with the king of the vampires.”
“I’m pleased you recognize my authority,” Dominik says, and I can see him straighten up to his full height.
“You’re such a pompous twat,” I retort without thinking.
“A pompous twat who just saved your life,” he says, pompously.
“I guess there’s a first time for everything,” I grumble.
In the gloom, there is a flash of light and a reflection of eyes, red eyes. Dominik’s eyes.
