CHAPTER 13

SARAH SKIPPED SCHOOL the next day. Posing as her mother, she called early and excused herself.

No well-trained hunter was mad enough to stalk a vampire on his own turf at night. While real vampires were not confined to coma-like, coffin-enclosed sleeps whenever the sun was up, they were naturally nocturnal. Christopher and Nissa were prime examples that vampires could function fine in the daylight world, but the stronger a vampire grew, the more irritating sunlight became, and the less natural a diurnal schedule was.

So she was fairly sure that at ten o’clock in the morning, Nikolas would be asleep. At least he would be alone, and not hosting a bash. She wasn’t suicidal enough to approach him in a group of his kind, but she believed she could handle one vampire on her own — even the legendary Nikolas.

When she reached the address Robert had given her, she drove past it once, checking for lights and sounds. It was hard to tell over the vampiric aura that saturated the area, but she thought she sensed humans inside.

The next time around the block, she parked down the street. She stopped the Jaguar at the boundary of two property lines, so if either of the houses’ owners saw her, they would each assume she was a guest of the other.

Breaking into a house at ten o’clock in the morning was not generally a good idea, but somehow she doubted she would be welcome if she simply knocked on the door. Swathing herself in magic, she approached through the side yard. If a human glanced in her direction, he would see her movement as the rustle of leaves in a breeze. She wasn’t invisible, but humans saw a great deal that they didn’t consciously notice. She hoped her magic would keep her safe from detection of the blood bonded humans inside as well, since if any of them saw her, the vampire would shortly follow.

The house was upper middle class, nondescript but for a string of clematis that bloomed a brilliant violet around the mailbox and wraparound porch. Trees grew heavily in this neighborhood, providing plenty of shade in which simple plants grew. Someone had devoted time to gardening.

The image of a long-hunted vampire practicing horticulture was amusing enough to bring a smile to her face, although she doubted he was the gardener.

From the yard, she sized up the house. It was three stories, four if it had a basement. The top floor had a large bay window on the northern side, but white curtains blocked Sarah’s view.

After a quick check to make sure all her knives were in place, Sarah swung onto the porch, her sneakers barely making a sound. A quick burst of laughter alerted her just before two girls came around the corner of the house. Focusing her power, Sarah threw a burst of it at the two, the magical equivalent of a hammer to the head. Both girls collapsed, instantly unconscious. They would wake awhile later, groggy but unharmed.

Taking a deep breath to regain her focus, Sarah stepped past the girls and slipped through the open door they had just exited.

Instantly she felt color-blind. Black and white, Robert had said. She was in the right place.

The carpet of the living room was plush black. The walls were white but for abstract designs that had been painted onto them in black. The furniture was a combination of black and white.

Her head nearly spinning at the abrupt change of scenery, Sarah barely avoided knocking a vase of white roses off a black table. Their green leaves were the only bit of color in the room.

She passed through the first floor quickly, easily satisfied that it was empty. On the second floor she passed one door behind which she sensed another human. This one was probably sleeping, but Sarah didn’t risk checking. The rest of the house was empty but for the vampire she sensed on the top floor, probably in the room with the bay window.

Climbing another flight of stairs, she sensed him very close by. If he was sleeping, she still had a chance to surprise him. More likely he had already sensed her the same way she could sense him, and was expecting to fight.

She opened the door that she knew must lead to Nikolas’s room, but what she found there threw her entirely off balance.

The walls were pure art, covered with pictures drawn in careful black paint, like a sketch enlarged to become a mural.

And she recognized the figures. Kaleo and Kendra, and other high-society vampiric killers, each in aloof portraits, graced the walls. Worse, she recognized her friends — Christopher and Nissa.

Still dazed, she spun when she sensed someone behind her.

Christopher?

He was dressed entirely in black — black boots, black jeans, and a black T-shirt. His hair was much longer than it had been when she saw him last, and the ebony waves were tied back.

He looked exactly the same except for the hair, but something was very wrong.

His expression was dark and angry, as opposed to the open, smiling one she had grown so fond of. But the wrongness didn’t reach her brain until he pushed her back into the wall, forcing the breath from her lungs. The vampire’s aura washed over her like ice water — too strong, too dark. Christopher did not feed on humans, but this vampire did, and probably had for more than a hundred years.

So this is the brother, she found herself thinking. She remembered how Nissa and Christopher had clammed up when she had tried to inquire about Christopher’s twin. Would have been nice to know before stumbling in here.

Too late — she had hesitated for that vital instant and now Nikolas had the advantage. He grabbed both her wrists with one of his hands and held them against the wall, careful to avoid the spring-loaded knife she was wearing on her left arm. He stood to her side, carefully out of kicking range.

Sarah was concentrating, preparing to strike him with her mind, when his free hand came from nowhere and hit her.

“Don’t try it, Sarah.” His voice was similar to Christopher’s — a slight southern accent, so like the one she had come to trust.

She pulled her mind away from Nikolas’s family — he was a threat, and that was all that mattered.

Yet he wasn’t doing anything threatening at the moment. Instead, he was regarding her with curiosity “Sarah Vida, I presume?” he inquired, voice civil.

“Making sure introductions are out of the way before we fight?” she asked flippantly.

“I’ll admit I’m flattered to have such a prestigious hunter track me down,” he answered calmly, “but I haven’t the faintest idea how to deal with you.”

That threw her off guard. So far as she knew, there was only one way vampires “dealt with” hunters who entered their lairs.

“Want to hear my suggestions?” she asked, voice light, the words a cover as she started to raise power again.

He raised one eyebrow. “I don’t think we’re —” He broke off and hit her again, the blow making her head spin. “I said not to try it.”

So he could feel her building power; that much was obvious. She would simply have to wait for a chance when he was distracted, which meant she might need to wait for him to bite her.

“If you’re going to kill me, go ahead. If you’re waiting for me to scream or beg, your expectations are way off.”

“Your control is really that good?” She heard in his voice that he had taken her words as a challenge.

It was a challenge she knew she could win. He could break her neck easily if he wanted to, but if he wanted to hear her scream, he would have to hurt her. Badly. That would take time, and time would give her a chance to escape. “Yes, it is.”

Nikolas pulled a knife from his pocket: an ivory-handled jackknife with a rose inlay made of black stone. Opening it, he pressed it against her left wrist, just hard enough for her to feel the sharpness of the blade against her skin.

“If that’s supposed to be a threat, it won’t work,” she informed him as he glanced to her face as if to gauge her expression. “A cut there would bleed out quickly. If you mean to feed on me, you won’t waste so much blood.”

“And if I just mean to kill you?” he inquired.

You would have done so already,” she answered, her voice calm despite her uncertainty.

You sure you won’t beg?” he asked, offering her one last chance to avoid pain.

“Quite sure.”

Still holding her wrists with his right hand, he held the knife in his left hand, and pressed the blade into her shoulder — one sharp cut, about an inch in length.

Her muscle twitched as the knife cut through it, but Sarah refused to let pain show on her face. She used her training in order to not react, since he was looking for a response. She could take a lot of damage and heal from it. Sooner or later, he would slip up, and then he would be dead.

He pulled the knife upward, this cut at a slight angle to the last one, and then down again, as if making a Z.

Or an N.

The next cut was just beside the last line of the first letter, a half-inch line, and the next was a line parallel to the second letter. She knew what he was writing, and sighed, realizing this could be a long night. Two more short lines followed the most recent, making a K, and then a rough, squared-off circle.

Nikolas.

If it scarred, she was going to be really annoyed.

“Is your control really this good, or are you a secret masochist?” Nikolas asked as he cut the tail of the S, a jagged underline.

“Is this a ritual thing, or are you just a sadist?” she returned, impatient. Though he was enjoying his busy-work, he wasn’t focused enough for Sarah to act.

“Both,” he answered, laughing, as he turned to the other arm. “You can ask me to stop any time now.” She understood what he really meant — You can break down and beg. “Or must I continue?”

“Hurry up, would you?” She yawned. “I have to get to the drugstore before it closes. We’re out of Band-Aids at my house.”

Nikolas laughed. “Don’t worry about that — you won’t need them.”

The rose petals were more difficult, and Nikolas did not say anything as he worked on them. When he moved to the ivy she took a deep breath, preparing herself. The ivy’s stem twined around the wrist; in order to cut the full design, Nikolas would need to shift his grip.

Her arms had gone numb from the abuse and from being held above her head so long, which was actually a good thing. The pain was dulling.

“I hope that blade is clean. I would hate for this to get infected.” She spoke to break the silence and keep hold of her bravado.

As she had predicted, Nikolas loosened his grip for a split second, and Sarah seized her moment, wrenching her arms down and drawing her knife at the same time. Nikolas only barely managed to avoid the silver blade as she swung it in his direction.

“You’re not as quick as some of your kin, Sarah,” he informed her, from just outside striking distance.

She laughed slightly “Quick enough.”

“Quicker than Elisabeth?” he inquired, and her eyes narrowed as she remembered the long hours of history. Nikolas was one of very few vampires who had killed a Vida and survived to speak of it.

“How much of a fight did she put up?” Sarah snapped. “Did she at least get a knife in you before she died?”

“Not in me.” The words were almost a growl. “Get out of my house, Sarah. I will see you shortly.”

He disappeared before she could react.

As she relaxed, the knife fell from her numb fingertips. She picked it up with her left hand, which wasn’t much better.

She leaned back against the wall and stretched out her awareness. While she had been occupied with Nikolas, the humans in the house had fled — even the ones she had knocked out were gone.

Her stomach churned with the unpleasant nausea that comes with blood loss. After bandaging her arms as well as she could with the scant supplies she kept in the car, she picked up her cell phone and dialed Adianna.