Chapter
22
Tavian Dinescu stared up at Wolfram
Castle. He had seen the delivery trucks wending their way up the
long path to the old place, seen the utility vans of other vendors
coming and going. Had Lord Drake sold the place? That seemed the
only logical explanation for the sudden flurry of renovations and
repairs that had been going on the last few days.
He rubbed a hand over his jaw. Were
there also people working in the old garden behind the
kitchen?
Perhaps it was time he paid an official
visit to the castle’s residents. After all, as chief of police, it
was his duty to know what was going on in his
jurisdiction.
Elena poured herself a cup of coffee,
her gaze moving around the kitchen. Funny how a few modern
appliances and some new furniture had changed a drafty old castle
into a comfortable home. She could hardly wait until the
electricians had completed wiring the castle.
Andrei and Katiya had disappeared into
one of the bedrooms soon after they arrived, and as far as Elena
knew, they hadn’t come out since.
As soon as she finished her coffee, she
was going to drive into the city for a few things. It would have
been much faster and closer to shop in town, but she didn’t want to
risk running into her uncle.
The thought had no sooner crossed her
mind when the new doorbell rang. She was smiling when she opened
the door, thinking it was one of the workmen, only to come
face-to-face with the devil himself.
A bolt of fear raced through Elena when
she saw her uncle standing there. She told herself there was
nothing to fear. Drake had warned her uncle to leave her alone, yet
here he was, at her door.
“Elena!” Dinescu said jovially. “How
well you look, my dear. May I come in?”
“No!” She tried to slam the door, but
he blocked it with his foot.
“Now, now,” he said, barely suppressed
anger in his voice. “Is that any way to treat the man who took you
in and raised you as his own daughter? Who fed you and clothed you
and cared for you all those years after your parents died? Surely I
deserve a little hospitality in return.”
Elbowing past her, Dinescu strode into
the room. He glanced around, noting the costly wall-mounted TV, the
fancy entertainment center, the expensive new
furniture.
“You’ve done very well for yourself,
haven’t you?” he remarked, his eyes narrowing. “How did you manage
to snag such a catch, I wonder? Were you sleeping around behind my
back like that slutty cousin of yours?”
“I . . . no . . . how dare you!” she
sputtered. “Get out of here!”
“You were to be mine.” Grabbing Elena
by the hair, he forced her head back. “Mine!”
“I would rather die,” she said, gasping
for air. “Let me go!”
He laughed, a harsh, ugly sound, and
she knew in that moment that he intended to kill her or
worse.
Spurred by fear, Elena stomped down on
her uncle’s instep as hard as she could, then kicked him in the
shin. He grunted with pain, loosening his hold on her hair. She
twisted her head to the side, jerking her hair free of his grasp,
although it felt as though she left a handful behind.
Freed of his hold, she ran for the
door, but he was right behind her.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” he
roared.
Her hand was on the latch when he
caught her. Face distorted with lust and rage, he grabbed her
T-shirt and ripped it down the front, exposing her bra and the bare
expanse of her belly. “I will have you,” he repeated with a leer.
“Right here. Right now. And then I’ll take you to visit
Jenica.”
Elena opened her mouth to scream. She
knew the vampires were resting and likely wouldn’t hear her, but
she prayed one of the workmen would come to her aid. Before she
could make a sound, Dinescu slapped one ham-sized hand over her
mouth, trapping the cry in her throat.
He had her bent backward over his arm
when the cat came barreling down the stairs. Snarling, Smoke
launched himself at Dinescu, his claws raking both sides of the
man’s face, slicing his cheeks open to the bone.
With a shriek of pain, Dinescu released
Elena and bolted out the front door.
Elena sank to the floor, her arms
wrapped around her waist. She stared at the cat, wishing for
sunset. She needed Drake to hold her, needed to tell him what her
uncle had said.
Smoke padded quietly toward her, bright
yellow eyes staring up at her. “That was a brave thing you did,”
she said, stroking the cat’s head. “Thank you.”
At her touch, there was a ripple in the
air and Drake knelt beside her, stark naked.
Elena blinked at him, then burst out
laughing, but her laughter quickly turned to tears. “Did you hear
what he said?”
With a nod, Drake gathered her into his
arms. A glance closed and locked the door, and then he carried
Elena up the stairs, tucked her into bed, and slid under the covers
beside her. “Are you all right?”
“He killed her, didn’t
he?”
“There is little doubt of that
now.”
“But can we prove it?” she asked
anxiously. “If he killed Jenica, he has to pay for what he’s
done.”
“He will,” Drake said, his voice filled
with quiet menace. “Never doubt it for a minute.”
The town lay dark and quiet under a
bright yellow moon when Drake knocked on Tavian Dinescu’s front
door.
Standing on the porch, Drake watched
the lights go on inside the house, heard the man’s heavy footsteps
as Dinescu shuffled toward the foyer.
Drake caught the faint scent of metal
and gun oil, heard the rapid beat of Dinescu’s heart just before
the door swung open.
Dinescu’s bulk filled the doorway. He
would have made a comical figure, clad in a white T-shirt and a
pair of loose-fitting pajama bottoms, save for the large pistol
held in one meaty fist.
“You!” Dinescu hissed. “What the devil
do you want?”
“Do not ever threaten my wife again,”
Drake said.
“Your wife,” Dinescu said, sneering.
“Your widow, you mean.”
“Are you threatening me
now?”
“No threat,” Dinescu said, bringing up
the gun. “I’ll just shoot you where you stand, then drag your body
inside and claim self-defense.”
“What makes you think you will get away
with it?”
“There’s just you and me. And you’ll be
dead. Besides, who’s going to doubt the word of the chief of
police?” Dinescu asked smugly, and pulled the trigger.
Drake absorbed the impact without
flinching, then plucked the smoking pistol from the astonished
man’s hand.
Dinescu stared up at him, a fine sheen
of sweat dotting his brow. “What are you?”
“Listen to me,” Drake said, exerting
his preternatural power over the man’s mind. “You are going to turn
yourself in for murdering your daughter. And you will confess to
any other crimes you may have committed. You will write your
confession out, in detail, and deliver it in the
morning.”
Dinescu nodded. “In
detail.”
“If anyone asks why you have decided to
come forward, you will tell them you cannot live with your guilt
any longer. And if, for some reason, they do not find you guilty,
you will come to me, and I will mete out the justice you deserve.
Do you understand?”
“Understand. Yes.”
“See that you do as I have instructed.
My justice will not be as swift or as merciful as that of the
court.”