campaign?”
Maximilian nodded again. “It makes sense to begin with the humans who already have inklings of the supernatural.”
Mihaela drew in her breath. “And if Dmitriu’s looking for such people, why shouldn’t other vampires be doing the same thing? Either to thwart Dmitriu and therefore Saloman… Or because they’ve discovered some use for psychic humans?”
Maximilian didn’t answer, but she guessed from his lack of reaction that her reasoning mirrored his own. However, too many questions were left unanswered. Something elusive tugged at her memory, something important that refused to show itself.
She leaned back, at least with the pretense of ease. “And you, Maximilian,” she asked. “Where are you in all of this? Why were you in Edinburgh?”
“I was going home.”
“To whatever island you isolate yourself on? Don’t get me wrong, isolation is a good thing for a vampire, but where were you returning from?”
“Budapest.”
“You left Budapest three months ago.”
“It’s a long walk.”
“It would be,” Mihaela said slowly. “Perhaps you found company. Perhaps a Romanian vampire called Gavril. What did you fall out about? Your proclivity for the bottle?”
Maximilian regarded her as if she were some particularly rare insect.
“What are you up to, Maximilian?” she asked, pushing harder. “Are you just betraying Saloman again?”
That was an unexpected hit. His eyelids dropped, but not before she’d glimpsed some darkness that swamped his eyes. It could have been pain or guilt or simple anger. Whatever it looked bleak and corroding, and in a vampire, she had little hope of interpreting it. But at least she’d struck something.
“Is it guilt?” she pursued. “Is that why you were so drunk?”
“Yes,” Maximilian said unexpectedly. “That’s why I was so drunk.” He stood up. “You will protect the child.”
“Oh yes,” she said, baffled. “I’ll do that. Where are you going?”
“To Edinburgh. To kill the vampires.”
“No,” she protested, jumping up in agitation. And now it was she who’d given too much away, and he whose eyes glinted with mockery.
“No? You consider that form of murder to be your own prerogative? Or would you like to call the British hunters for permission first?”
She curled her lip at him. It was the best she could do.
He said, “Or should I just leave Gavril alive for you?”
She dropped her gaze, tried to brush past him with annoyance while racking her brains for some way of going to Edinburgh tonight while still keeping Robbie safe. Maximilian didn’t budge from her path. Instead, his hand snaked out; his fingers gripped her chin and forced her to stop and look up at him.
Tension crackled. He’d almost kissed her mouth last night, after drinking her blood. As if he’d liked her. As if he wanted her. The memory surged, heating her body from the inside out.
He said, “What is Gavril to you, little hunter?”
She clenched her fists, glaring at him, but wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of her struggling against a force she already knew to be superior. The strength in his fingers was terrifying, implacable, and he wasn’t even exerting himself. What had she been thinking of to give him her blood? To let him affect her like that ? And God help her, it was happening again.
She said stonily, “He killed my parents and my sister, and would have killed me too if hunters hadn’t rescued me in time.” She gave a short, bitter laugh that only just avoided being a sob. “At least I think he did. I have to see his ear to be sure.”
Maximilian’s lip twitched. “ You damaged his ear? What did you do? Bite it off? How old were you?”
“Seven. I was seven years old.”
“I’m five,” Robbie offered, his voice muffled, as if full of food. It was.
Maximilian released her, and she all but fell back down on the sofa. She rubbed her forehead with one shaking hand. Why was it so damned hard to think around him?
“Is he
Maximilian nodded again. “It makes sense to begin with the humans who already have inklings of the supernatural.”
Mihaela drew in her breath. “And if Dmitriu’s looking for such people, why shouldn’t other vampires be doing the same thing? Either to thwart Dmitriu and therefore Saloman… Or because they’ve discovered some use for psychic humans?”
Maximilian didn’t answer, but she guessed from his lack of reaction that her reasoning mirrored his own. However, too many questions were left unanswered. Something elusive tugged at her memory, something important that refused to show itself.
She leaned back, at least with the pretense of ease. “And you, Maximilian,” she asked. “Where are you in all of this? Why were you in Edinburgh?”
“I was going home.”
“To whatever island you isolate yourself on? Don’t get me wrong, isolation is a good thing for a vampire, but where were you returning from?”
“Budapest.”
“You left Budapest three months ago.”
“It’s a long walk.”
“It would be,” Mihaela said slowly. “Perhaps you found company. Perhaps a Romanian vampire called Gavril. What did you fall out about? Your proclivity for the bottle?”
Maximilian regarded her as if she were some particularly rare insect.
“What are you up to, Maximilian?” she asked, pushing harder. “Are you just betraying Saloman again?”
That was an unexpected hit. His eyelids dropped, but not before she’d glimpsed some darkness that swamped his eyes. It could have been pain or guilt or simple anger. Whatever it looked bleak and corroding, and in a vampire, she had little hope of interpreting it. But at least she’d struck something.
“Is it guilt?” she pursued. “Is that why you were so drunk?”
“Yes,” Maximilian said unexpectedly. “That’s why I was so drunk.” He stood up. “You will protect the child.”
“Oh yes,” she said, baffled. “I’ll do that. Where are you going?”
“To Edinburgh. To kill the vampires.”
“No,” she protested, jumping up in agitation. And now it was she who’d given too much away, and he whose eyes glinted with mockery.
“No? You consider that form of murder to be your own prerogative? Or would you like to call the British hunters for permission first?”
She curled her lip at him. It was the best she could do.
He said, “Or should I just leave Gavril alive for you?”
She dropped her gaze, tried to brush past him with annoyance while racking her brains for some way of going to Edinburgh tonight while still keeping Robbie safe. Maximilian didn’t budge from her path. Instead, his hand snaked out; his fingers gripped her chin and forced her to stop and look up at him.
Tension crackled. He’d almost kissed her mouth last night, after drinking her blood. As if he’d liked her. As if he wanted her. The memory surged, heating her body from the inside out.
He said, “What is Gavril to you, little hunter?”
She clenched her fists, glaring at him, but wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of her struggling against a force she already knew to be superior. The strength in his fingers was terrifying, implacable, and he wasn’t even exerting himself. What had she been thinking of to give him her blood? To let him affect her like that ? And God help her, it was happening again.
She said stonily, “He killed my parents and my sister, and would have killed me too if hunters hadn’t rescued me in time.” She gave a short, bitter laugh that only just avoided being a sob. “At least I think he did. I have to see his ear to be sure.”
Maximilian’s lip twitched. “ You damaged his ear? What did you do? Bite it off? How old were you?”
“Seven. I was seven years old.”
“I’m five,” Robbie offered, his voice muffled, as if full of food. It was.
Maximilian released her, and she all but fell back down on the sofa. She rubbed her forehead with one shaking hand. Why was it so damned hard to think around him?
“Is he
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