Flames roar in a huge fireplace. Shadows move. A man—the one from the portrait—in a dark tunic with gold embroidery that glints in the firelight moves across the large room. His movements are somehow both elegant and menacing. Dark hair tied back, a trim black beard, his lips curl in a sneer.
And then I see the young woman I’d been following. Long dark hair curtains her face. She wears a burgundy gown with flowers embroidered at the waist. Eyes downcast, she seems to have quietly accepted her fate.
He growls something, his words like dagger thrusts.
Cringing away, she almost disappears into the voluminous draperies, mumbling what sounds like Apa. Are they father and daughter?
He shouts and she flinches, pulling in, making herself smaller. When he doesn’t receive the response he seems to want, he takes her by the shoulders and shakes her, holding her a foot off the floor. She struggles, but at one look from him, she subsides.
He brings her face close to his own and snarls something. Eyes closed, she droops. He spits in her face and then throws her farther than a human could. She hits the far wall and crumples as he stalks out of the room.
I go to the young woman, but there’s nothing I can do to help. Ages separate us. I can only stand witness to her pain.
Pushing herself into a seated position, she wipes her face and leans against the wall. She pulls her knees up, curling in on her pain. Here, close to her, I can see her eyes. The man’s were a fiery black, but hers are a shimmering lilac, a color no human has ever had. Are they fae?
Wiping the crystal tears from her golden skin, she firms her petal pink lips as she stands, bracing herself against the wall with one arm until she can stand on her own. She walks to the door, water lilies blooming in her footsteps before they wither and disappear in her wake.
I follow her out of the room. Where did she go? Even the flowers on the floor are gone. I travel down the hall, but it’s far longer than I remembered. None of this looks familiar.
The lights flicker and the walls change. I’m somewhere else entirely. This is the exam room I’d seen in the basement. The man in the white coat from the bleeding photograph is here, as is Léna. He has her strapped down to the table, a Gray Dress assisting him. Léna looks terrified but is talking in a calm voice, repeating something. The White Coat slaps a hand over her mouth while he says something to the Gray Dress.
The Gray Dress looks between the two, clearly uncomfortable, but he barks at her and she goes out to the hall.
The White Coat’s tone changes. Now his words are quiet and soft as he runs his hand over Léna’s cheek and down to her shoulder.
No. Not again. I whip out a hand, claws extended, but they slide right through the White Coat. Léna, though, turns her head away from him, blinking back tears, and meets my gaze.
With a jolt, I was in the dark and instantly alert. Quiet footsteps were rounding the bed. Clive was beside me, his arm still wrapped around me. I didn’t move, didn’t change my deep breaths, but I pulled in his scent. Renfield, and one I recognized. This was the one who’d handed Clive the poison, who’d followed me into town.
I almost sat up and asked what the hell he was doing in here when I caught the scent of metal and oil that said gun. I needed him a little closer. Clive had a tendency to hold on tight when we slept, but I needed room to move. The Renfield had come around the bed, which told me I was the target, not Clive.
Daring to barely lift my eyelids, I saw a sharp, thin beam of light aimed at the floor but moving to the head of the bed. This was it.
With Clive pinning me in place, I swiveled my legs out from under the covers and kicked the Renfield into the wall, giving me a moment to get out from under Clive’s arm. Leaping, I took our intruder to the ground, slamming his head against the wooden floor.
“Sam?” Voice groggy, I heard Clive move in bed.
“I got it,” I said. “Go back to sleep.”
While the Renfield was knocked out, I slipped on a robe. Beating people up while naked was super uncomfortable. I flicked on the nightstand lamp. Where had the gun gone?
Eyes on the wannabe killer, I considered what to do with him. He’d tried to kill me. Was I supposed to send him back to the vampires with a pat on the head, saying, Better luck next time?
Kneeling, I looked under the bed for the gun and felt movement behind me. I spun, seeing the gun pointed at my head, and swatted his hand down just as he pulled the trigger.
The bang was deafening, especially this close. Eyes wide, he stared, uncomprehending. The bullet had torn a hole in his lower abdomen. Blood had begun to pool beneath him as he spat a stream of angry Hungarian words at me. Clive was suddenly standing in front of me, pushing me back.
Handing me the gun, he gestured to the other side of the room. “Darling, move away, please, and while you’re over there, perhaps you can tell me what’s going on.”
Standing in the doorway to the bathroom, I said, “I woke up to someone in the room. He had a penlight and a gun. He was about to shoot me when I kicked him into the wall. I thought he was out cold, but I forgot what you said about black-shirted Renfields being stronger. Anyway, he came to much faster than I’d thought, and he had the gun again aimed at my head. I smacked it down and he ended up shooting himself. Is that smell normal?”
“Yes,” Clive said, dragging on his trousers. “He ripped holes in his intestines. It’s a painful death he has in front of him.”
“You could take away his pain,” I suggested.
Clive looked at me as though I’d grown a second head. “As he tried to kill you—twice—I don’t think I will.” He punched the Renfield, putting him out for real this time and stopping all the Hungarian cursing. Lifting the man’s feet, Clive dragged the creep across the room to the bedroom door. He swung it open and revealed Vlad standing in the hall.
“Was that a—” Vlad looked down at the bloody Renfield. “Ah, I see it was a gunshot.” He glanced through the bedroom door, his brows furrowed.
