wrong. There is a connection. You and I are descendants of Saloman’s killers; to vampires, we ‘read’ more strongly than other humans. In addition, my blood is partly Tsigana’s, his old lover’s.”
“I don’t see how that helps us,” Konrad objected. “If they’re running from us—”
“I don’t think they are. We need to make them come back for us.”
The others all turned to stare at her in the darkness. She could feel their eyes, even if she couldn’t see them.
“Attract them with an easy but powerful kill,” Elizabeth urged. “You and I break cover, Konrad, in different directions so that we seem alone and easier meat, and we wait for them to follow one or the other. Everyone else stays in the wood, tracking the vampires until it’s clear where they’re going; then we join up and trap them.”
There was silence. “It’s a plan,” Konrad said cautiously.
“It’s our only plan,” Mihaela said. “Let’s do it. Only . . .” Her head was turned toward Elizabeth.
Here it comes, the suspicion, the distrust.
“Can you kill Saloman’s cousin?” Mihaela asked baldly.
Oh, yes. Because I know what you don’t. That Luk died because he attacked Saloman, not the other way around. It makes him easier to hate.
And there she was again, caught between Saloman’s confidence and the hunters’ safety. The hunters’ documents put Luk’s murder down to Saloman’s insane quest for total power, together with the side issue of jealousy after Tsigana, Saloman’s human mistress, had gone to Luk. The surviving texts gave no hint of the love that had once bound the cousins, or the pain that had consumed Saloman since he’d killed Luk. And those things weren’t Elizabeth’s story to tell.
She said, “I may need help pushing the stake right in, but I have no other problem with killing Luk.” She sounded too haughty, too defensive, but there was nothing she could do about that.
“He isn’t like Saloman,” she blurted. “Saloman wasn’t insane when they staked him, whatever your sources say. Luk was.”
The Hungarian hunters exchanged glances.
“Horse’s mouth?” István asked.
“Horse’s mouth.”
“Let’s do it,” Konrad said impatiently. “Elizabeth, take these. This is the Ancient detector,” he added, shoving the strange, spiked instrument into her hands. “Look, I’ve just reset it, so it’s as accurate as possible. The needle shows the direction of the Ancient; the display shows the distance.”
“How did you come up with this?” Elizabeth asked.
“István took temperature and other readings from Saloman during the rescue at Buda Castle,” Konrad said smugly. “And if you recall, Saloman bled in that room.”
Elizabeth’s mingled admiration and annoyance at being kept in the dark vanished in the face of a sudden, blinding memory: Saloman’s bloody hand shoving Dante across that bare, stone room into the wall, and Dante sitting slumped on the floor with the scarlet handprint on his yellow shirt. “Shit. That’s how he did it!”
Rising to their feet, the others paused.
“Dante,” she explained. “He had Saloman’s blood on his shirt—could he have used that?”
“I suppose he could,” István said thoughtfully. “But there can’t have been much of it.”
“Enough to smear a taste on his lips,” Elizabeth said without thought, then felt her body flush with quick embarrassment. Somehow it was too late to explain that when she’d done this to Saloman it was because she’d accidentally dripped blood on what she thought was a valuable statue and was trying to wipe it off.
She stood, still clutching both small detectors and her wooden stake. “I’ll go this way,” she muttered.
“Elizabeth.” It was Mihaela, dropping something else into her pocket. “Buzzer. Attach it your phone. And don’t go too far.”
The buzzer connected directly to those the hunters carried and was a quick means of raising or receiving an alarm. As a sign of warm
“I don’t see how that helps us,” Konrad objected. “If they’re running from us—”
“I don’t think they are. We need to make them come back for us.”
The others all turned to stare at her in the darkness. She could feel their eyes, even if she couldn’t see them.
“Attract them with an easy but powerful kill,” Elizabeth urged. “You and I break cover, Konrad, in different directions so that we seem alone and easier meat, and we wait for them to follow one or the other. Everyone else stays in the wood, tracking the vampires until it’s clear where they’re going; then we join up and trap them.”
There was silence. “It’s a plan,” Konrad said cautiously.
“It’s our only plan,” Mihaela said. “Let’s do it. Only . . .” Her head was turned toward Elizabeth.
Here it comes, the suspicion, the distrust.
“Can you kill Saloman’s cousin?” Mihaela asked baldly.
Oh, yes. Because I know what you don’t. That Luk died because he attacked Saloman, not the other way around. It makes him easier to hate.
And there she was again, caught between Saloman’s confidence and the hunters’ safety. The hunters’ documents put Luk’s murder down to Saloman’s insane quest for total power, together with the side issue of jealousy after Tsigana, Saloman’s human mistress, had gone to Luk. The surviving texts gave no hint of the love that had once bound the cousins, or the pain that had consumed Saloman since he’d killed Luk. And those things weren’t Elizabeth’s story to tell.
She said, “I may need help pushing the stake right in, but I have no other problem with killing Luk.” She sounded too haughty, too defensive, but there was nothing she could do about that.
“He isn’t like Saloman,” she blurted. “Saloman wasn’t insane when they staked him, whatever your sources say. Luk was.”
The Hungarian hunters exchanged glances.
“Horse’s mouth?” István asked.
“Horse’s mouth.”
“Let’s do it,” Konrad said impatiently. “Elizabeth, take these. This is the Ancient detector,” he added, shoving the strange, spiked instrument into her hands. “Look, I’ve just reset it, so it’s as accurate as possible. The needle shows the direction of the Ancient; the display shows the distance.”
“How did you come up with this?” Elizabeth asked.
“István took temperature and other readings from Saloman during the rescue at Buda Castle,” Konrad said smugly. “And if you recall, Saloman bled in that room.”
Elizabeth’s mingled admiration and annoyance at being kept in the dark vanished in the face of a sudden, blinding memory: Saloman’s bloody hand shoving Dante across that bare, stone room into the wall, and Dante sitting slumped on the floor with the scarlet handprint on his yellow shirt. “Shit. That’s how he did it!”
Rising to their feet, the others paused.
“Dante,” she explained. “He had Saloman’s blood on his shirt—could he have used that?”
“I suppose he could,” István said thoughtfully. “But there can’t have been much of it.”
“Enough to smear a taste on his lips,” Elizabeth said without thought, then felt her body flush with quick embarrassment. Somehow it was too late to explain that when she’d done this to Saloman it was because she’d accidentally dripped blood on what she thought was a valuable statue and was trying to wipe it off.
She stood, still clutching both small detectors and her wooden stake. “I’ll go this way,” she muttered.
“Elizabeth.” It was Mihaela, dropping something else into her pocket. “Buzzer. Attach it your phone. And don’t go too far.”
The buzzer connected directly to those the hunters carried and was a quick means of raising or receiving an alarm. As a sign of warm
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