His head was a bit soft from last night’s overindulgence of blood whisky between the interlude with Hatshepsut and the attack by Cezar Moldavi’s men.
Naturally, he’d only interfered to keep Miss Woodmore from waltzing with that court jester because it had been his duty as her guardian, but it had led to an unnecessary detour in that shadowy alcove—not to mention a distraction that had put him off guard. And just as naturally, Dimitri hadn’t given their brief kiss more than a passing thought…but still, that delay had caused him to be too slow in realizing the vampires had arrived.
Which was another reason he was in no mood to placate Miss Woodmore.
He’d rushed through the house, looking for his wards and his sister so as to get them to safety, and had barely done so when Belial’s associates had attacked him. Fortunately their absence made it appear Dimitri had been searching for the girls as well,thereby misleading the vampires before Belial flung the ruby necklace at him.
“They gained admittance to the party?” Cale asked.
“There were five of them, all makes, including Belial,” Dimitri replied.
Makes were vampires who’d been “made” or sired by another Dracule. While enjoying the same characteristics as the original Draculia members—ones like Dimitri, Cale, and Voss, who were invited into the brotherhood by Lucifer himself—these made vampires were less powerful and more susceptible to weakness.
Sired vampires could also make their own minions, but the further down the chain of evolution, so to speak, the less powerful and slower they were. Each of them acquired not only their own Asthenia upon awakening after being made, but they also inherited any weakness of their sire, and his or her sire, and so on.
“Moldavi acted more quickly in sending his men here than I’d anticipated, but it could have been worse if Iliana and I hadn’t been at the masquerade. She managed to alert me to their arrival, and staked one who apparently attempted to attack Angelica in the garden. And Dewhurst—er, Voss. Bastard’s taken to using his title again.”
“And now Voss has absconded with the younger one? Angelica?”
Dimitri submerged the bubble of rage at the thought of Voss seducing his way beneath the skirts of Chas Woodmore’s sister while she was on Dimitri’s watch. Certainly Voss would have his own reasons for choosing her in particular, but knowing it would infuriate Dimitri was just icing on the bastard’s cake.
If he didn’t get to Voss first, Woodmore would do it—and shove a stake into his heart without hesitation. Good riddance, but Dimitri would rather have the honor himself if Angelica was ruined while he was responsible for her. Even though he didn’thold Voss directly liable for Lerina’s death in Vienna, the tangled web of the other man’s games and manipulations had certainly set that path in motion. Since that night, Dimitri had been more than receptive to a reason for ridding the earth of the man’s presence.
“Voss has sent word he’ll return her when he’s certain I can assure him of her safety, but of course he has some other reason for abducting her.”
“Of course he does. It’s Voss we’re speaking of. The man can’t keep his cock or his fangs put away,” Cale replied. “But he isn’t about to let Moldavi get to her any more than we are. So she’s safe—after a fashion.”
Unfortunately, Cale was correct. Voss would keep Angelica for his own purposes, and then drop her as if she were a hot coal when he was finished. Dimitri doubted even the threat of Chas Woodmore and his ash stake would cow the bastard. “Which is precisely the reason I’ve told Miss Woodmore that all is under control.”
“Three deaths last night at the hands—or should I say fangs—of Belial and his men?” Cale asked. “Or were there more?”
“Three in total. Iliana got one in the garden, and Voss witnessed two in the ballroom while I was attending to Miss Woodmore and Mirabella. He claims there would have been further carnage if he hadn’t intervened.” Dimitri was inclined to believe him, much as he hated to give the man credit for anything productive. “Although, of course, he didn’t lift a stake to any of them.”
“No, he wouldn’t. They were after the Woodmore girls without a doubt?”
“Of course. Now that Chas has run off with Narcise.” As he spoke, Dimitri watched Cale without appearing to do so. He wasn’t surprised when his friend’s face tightened almostimperceptibly, then went utterly blank. Apparently Giordan Cale still had that unhealthy attachment to Narcise Moldavi.
The question Cale was likely asking himself, just as Dimitri was, was whether Chas had abducted Narcise against her will, or whether they had run off together. Either was possible, although the irony of a vampire hunter eloping with a vampire made the latter choice rather fascinating.
“Naturally I spent the rest of the night doing the usual to hide the evidence of their visit,” Dimitri explained.
“I’ll give you some assistance today if you still need to close some holes,” Giordan offered. Dimitri nodded, for despite his initiatives since the tragedy, there was still more to do.
Last night’s strategy had included a few stories told about masquerade skits gone awry, a selection of his own rumormongering, and a bit of memory altering at White’s, Bridge & Stokes, and other men’s clubs afterward—all so no one would know exactly what had happened to leave three people dead.
Their deaths were tragic enough—not to mention unnecessary—that the actual cause would only make the event even more horrific. It would only lead to the same sort of public outcry and uprising against the Dracule that had occurred in Cologne in 1755.
Even more people would die if that happened—fools who thought they could actually hunt and kill the strong, fast immortals. There were few who could hope to take a vampire by surprise and best them in battle, and they had to be well trained.
Thus Dimitri ensured the members of his household staff were as well equipped as mortals could be for an encounter with Dracule. And in addition, Dimitri had long made it a practice to hire made vampires whose sires were dead for a variety of tasks, including acting as guardians and protectors of the Woodmore sisters. There were, despite the link to Lucifer, quite a number ofDracule who weren’t blindly driven by the need for violence and power, and sought only pleasure and immortal life.
Dimitri’s scowl deepened and the familiar burn of disgust billowed in him. Vampires like Moldavi and Belial who routinely left a trail of violence and dead mortals in their paths repulsed him. Voss might be a creature concerned only with himself, but he didn’t have the lack of respect for mortals that Moldavi and his friends did—leaving children bled dry and to die in the fields.
Moldavi particularly enjoyed the blood of young, virginal boys.
“Woodmore is in England,” Cale said, surprising Dimitri. “He contacted me. The assumption is he knows where Narcise is, but he didn’t say so in the correspondence I received. He was careful. No one else would even know it was from him.”
“Moldavi wants his sister back and he’ll do whatever he must to retrieve her—including coming out of his bent-over position in front of Napoleon Bonaparte. Woodmore isn’t about to take the chance of being found. He’s too damn smart.”
