Between a Vamp and a Hard Place (12 page)

“Then help me, Lindsey, please. I need you. You are the only person I can trust.”

I stared up at him, uncertain. “You have to promise to never do the mind control thing again. You can't use me if we're going to be partners. Because I should be with Gemma, helping her clean out the apartment. I should be working. I should be making money, not here in Rome, breaking and entering.”

“I know,” he said softly. “All these things, I know. And yet you are here with me. I am grateful, even if I don't show it properly.”

“If we're going to do this, we're going to be equals,” I told him. “Equals in
everything
. If one of us doesn't like a decision, we get a say in things. Understand? No more of this running off and doing what you want despite what I say. If we disagree, we talk it out.”

“Equals,” he agreed, then tilted his head, assessing me. “This will be a big change for me. I have never considered a woman an equal before.”

I patted his chest. “We're both going to ignore that you said that.”

He laughed. “I like it! It is a refreshing change.” He took my hand in his and released me from his embrace. “If ever there was a woman to equal a man, it is you, Lindsey.”

I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not, but I'd take it. “Women have been men's equals for a while now, so get used to it.”

“I shall.”

I gestured at myself. “I'm serious. Equal in everything. You and me.” I pointed at him. “Swear it.”

He cocked a brow at me. “Shall I give you the kiss of fealty?”

“I think your lips have been enough places tonight,” I said primly.

Rand laughed. “I see you blush, Lindsey. If it is but a simple kiss between equals, why does it embarrass you?”

Was he goading me? Jerk. What was worse was the fact that I was going to fall for it. I thought about offering a handshake, but if it didn't mean anything to him, what was the point? “Fine, then, a kiss of fealty and we'll regroup and figure out a new plan. Deal?”

“Very well,” Rand said. He pulled me against him once more. “I am sorry I have frightened you, Lindsey. It was not my intent. I have not been myself tonight. Forgive me?”

“For now,” I said softly. “But we can't let it happen again.”

“I will be more careful,” he told me. “I will think before I act, and I will consult you. You are my guide in this strange land, and I should trust you.”

“You should,” I agreed.

“Shall we kiss to seal our bargain?”

“It feels like I just agreed to kiss the devil,” I muttered, but I tilted my head back.

The look Rand gave me was surprisingly intense just before he brushed his lips against mine. And the kiss? It was anything but chaste. His mouth was warm against mine, which should have been a danger signal, but it was drowned out by the fact that his lips caressed my own, and his tongue flicked against mine in a quiet invitation. It was supposed to be a short, quick, businesslike kiss, but as his mouth moved over mine and I melted against him, I realized there was nothing fealty-like in this at all.

And God help me, I wasn't sure I cared.

R
and and I sat at a dark booth in a small restaurant. There were drunks at the bar, but it was late at night and our choices for dining weren't plentiful. I spun my fork into my pasta noodles, stifling a yawn. “So let's go over our plan of attack one more time, okay?” After a moment, I added, “And when I say plan of attack, I mean it in the most figurative sense of the word.”

Rand just stared at me over his coffee. “I understand nothing of what you just said.”

“It's because I'm tired,” I told him. “I'm not choosing my words carefully.” If I had been, I sure wouldn't have picked
attack
around a vampire with control issues.

But it was extra late, heading toward dawn. My entire body was dragging with the need for sleep. Rand was super-antsy, so after we'd checked into a hotel room, I'd suggested heading down to the bar-slash-restaurant to get some late-night food. It kept me from thinking about the fact that I was going to have to share a room with him. My credit card wasn't unlimited, and I hadn't planned on this being a multiple-night thing, which it now was.

Nor had I planned on Rand going on a blood-sucking rampage through Rome at the deaths of his friends and making me afraid of him. These sorts of things tended to make a girl think twice.

So here we were, Rand drinking coffee he couldn't stand, and me eating noodles I didn't want, all because neither of us wished to retire just yet.

Rand wasn't in a talkative mood, though. I supposed that was understandable, given all we'd gone through tonight. He toyed with the ceramic mug, not drinking.

So I did my best to keep conversation flowing. “Tomorrow,” I told him, “will be a better day. We'll get our feet underneath us. First things first, though. We need to get you some normal clothes. Some good shoes, some underwear, maybe a nice jacket or something. We'll get stuff that will hide your weapons, since you insist on carrying them around.”

Rand and I had argued again once we'd gotten to the hotel. He'd wanted to keep a sword strapped to his side at all times, and I'd tried to point out various laws that wouldn't allow something like that. We'd eventually compromised, and Rand was now wearing matching daggers under his tunic and one slipped into a boot. While he didn't stand out as much as he had with a sword, I'd still be happier if he was dressed like a normal guy so he wouldn't call as much attention to himself.

“Once we get some clothing, we should probably return to Venice and regroup with Gemma. We can get you settled in the apartment while we figure out the next course of action. I mean, it's not the most spacious place, but I'm sure we can set up a room for you.”

He looked at me thoughtfully over his coffee. “I'm not returning to Venice.”

I frowned as I chewed my fettuccine. What had happened to the “let's work on a plan together” part of being partners? Once I swallowed, I asked, “So where do you want to go, then?”

He closed his eyes and turned his head, as if sensing something. Then he looked back to me. “I still feel Guy. He is alive somewhere. North, perhaps. Austria? Brittany? Perhaps Prussia. I must find him. I must find out the truth of what has happened. Of why I was targeted, and why both Frederic and William were killed on the same day. Why he is the only one of the Claws that survives. Only then can I settle in and claim a new life for myself. And if Guy does not have answers, I must find the Dragon himself.”

“Why not head straight to the source?” I asked. I suppressed a shiver, remembering the warning scroll Gemma had read. The Dragon was the big vampire hub, it seemed. “The Dragon is the one with all the answers. Maybe we should just go after him.” At the cold look Rand gave me, I added, “What? Is that bad?”

Why were so many unpleasant things pointing back to the Dragon? None of this could be coincidence.

“The Dragon is not a man one wishes to know.” He shook his head. “I would avoid bringing you to him. Your blood is a sweet taste, and if he decided he wanted you, there would be nothing I could do to keep you safe.”

I pushed the food around on my plate, not hungry anymore. Great. Now I was in danger simply because I tasted yummy. I needed details. “So . . . why don't you tell me about this Dragon guy? How did you meet him? Did you ask to be a vampire?”

He looked at me as if I were insane. “Ask to be
upyri
? One might as well ask to be damned to hell.”

I blinked. “That seems harsh.”

“It is not the life one would choose. And no, I did not choose it.” His mouth curled a bit at the edges, as if amused by the thought. “Do you see anything admirable in my form, then, Lindsey? Something that one would admire and wish to become?”

“Well.” I hesitated. “You're strong. You can charm people with a look. And apparently you're immortal. Some people would really like those powers.”

“Some would,” he agreed, looking thoughtful. “Some would also point out that I am bound by more laws than ever before. I cannot enter a place without being invited. I cannot see the sunlight ever again. I cannot cross hallowed ground. I cannot pass running water. I can be taken out by a tiny stick of wood in the heart.”

“Hey now,” I said, pointing my fork at him. “I'd like to point out that I can also be taken out by a stick of wood in the heart. That's not exclusive to vampires.”

He chuckled. “I think you like to put me in my place.”

Maybe I did. “All I'm saying is that there are some bum raps out there, and while yours isn't the best, you have to agree that it does have some perks.”

Rand was silent for a long moment, staring at his cup of coffee for so long that I wondered if I'd somehow angered him again. I began to poke at my food, when he finally spoke once more. “I was born a bastard, you know. My mother was the daughter of a blacksmith and my father was a marcher lord. She died in childbirth, and I was left with a grandfather who did not want to claim me and a father who was amused by me but wanted nothing to do with me. He had three other legitimate sons, you see. A bastard is only useful to shine their boots and feed the horses. In other words, I was just like any other servant to him.” He shrugged. “I think the other servants did not get kicked nearly as often as I did. The lady of the castle did not like me much.”

I put down my fork, feeling uncomfortable again. Just when I thought Rand's story couldn't get any sadder, he put a new spin on things for me.

“When I got older, I grew tired of it. I didn't like being treated as if I didn't matter. As if I were filth because my mother had been a blacksmith's daughter instead of a highborn lady. One of my brothers, you see, looked just like me, except he had bad teeth. I think his mother hated me especially because I had good teeth and Sigmund did not.” He grinned, giving me a flash of those pearly white fangs. “The older I got, the worse things became, until one day I was caught speaking with a maid that one of my brothers had his eye on. They cracked three of my ribs and blackened both of my eyes and I could not fight back, because they were the lord's legitimate sons.”

“That's horrible.”

“Mmm.” Rand traced a finger around the lip of his coffee cup. “They were not kind men, my brothers. The local priest patched me up and said last rites on me in case I should die of a pierced lung during the night. It was a good thing that he did, because as I lay in his care, I met a traveling knight.”

“The Dragon?”

He shook his head. “The Dragon comes much later in this tale. This knight was leaving to join the Lionheart's Crusade, you see. It was a quest to retake the Holy Land from the infidels that had infested it. A mission from God. And I was so desperate for a new life and a chance to be seen as anything other than a bastard boy that I immediately volunteered my services. I left without telling a soul, even though I should have sought my lord's permission first. No one truly cared what a bastard did, after all.” His lip curled slightly. “No one came after me.”

My heart twinged with sadness, picturing a younger Rand, all skinny legs and bright blue eyes. I pictured him tanned by the sun, his hair a few shades lighter than the dark brown color it was now.

“We joined the Archbishop of Canterbury, who was encouraging men across England to take up arms for a holy army of God. I believe the year was either 1187 or 1188.” He shrugged. “I did not feel particularly holy or driven to serve God, but it sounded like a grand adventure to a boy like myself. By the time we finally reached Jerusalem, though, it had been many years and many battles later. I was no longer a young, idealistic boy, and I no longer thought God was blessing one side over the other. It was one terrible battle after another, with both sides committing atrocities. At this time, I was the squire of an elderly gentleman who had seen my tireless fighting in the field, and although I was not noble, he made me his new squire when his died of pleurisy. His name was Frederic.”

“The Frederic from before?”

Rand nodded, and for a long moment he was quiet. “He was a good man. Very kind. Scholarly. I think he believed we were truly doing God's work in Jerusalem . . . for a time. Then came Ayyadieh.”

“Ayyadieh?”

“It was a hill outside the city of Acre.” The look on Rand's face was far away. “We had just captured Acre after a long siege. The garrison there was more than two thousand men, women, and children. Maybe three thousand. King Saladin of Jerusalem wanted his prisoners back. The Lionheart wanted his English prisoners back, but they could not agree as to which ones should be exchanged. King Richard grew tired of waiting, and he had all of the Musulmen prisoners executed. All of them. All men. All women. All children. He had them beheaded where the infidel troops could see them.” Rand looked down at his coffee cup, toying with it. “Some of the men on the enemy side were so upset that they charged at us and tried to save them, only to be slaughtered themselves. It was not a good day. War is an ugly thing.” He rubbed his jaw and looked sick at the memory. “I still think of them.”

My heart ached. “That sounds awful. So awful.”

“It was. I can still hear the screams in my head sometimes. I have seen many terrible things wrought in the name of God and glory, but that, I think, will forever haunt me.”

I shook my head, stunned. “I can't even imagine.” The horrors he was relating in such a casual voice were unthinkable. Yet I knew from the miserable look on his face that they were all true.

He nodded. “Frederic lost heart at that. A day or two later, we found out that Saladin retaliated and killed all Christian prisoners he held. It was a terrible time on both sides, but I do not think King Richard cared. All he was interested in was waging more war. So even though we were tired, dispirited, and questioning ourselves, he drove us onward, seeking his next victory. Frederic and I never made it, though. We were captured in a skirmish and brought to Saladin's army, along with a few other soldiers. One of the captured men was a knight called Guy de Verdun, and another was William de Beauchamp. We were dragged through the desert behind Saladin's men, who were still angry at how their people had been massacred in Acre. Rightfully so, I might add. And we were brought near Jaffa to await our fate. We knew what it would be.”