Chapter
26
The day after Elena received the title
to her uncle’s house, she drove down the hill for one last look.
Walking from room to room, she tried to remember the happy times
she had spent in this house, but they were few and far between, and
had ended abruptly when her Aunt Catalena had passed
away.
Elena spent a few minutes in her old
bedroom. She didn’t have much in the way of belongings—her clothes,
a dozen or so CDs, a handful of old school books, a few
knickknacks, a couple of movie posters. Seven years of her life,
she thought, glancing around, and the only thing she wanted to keep
was the music box her aunt had given her one Christmas. It was a
lovely thing, white with pale pink flowers painted around the edge.
When she lifted the lid, a tiny blond ballerina wearing a fluffy
pink tutu twirled round and round.
Carrying the music box into the
kitchen, she placed it on the table with the other items she wanted
to keep—her Aunt Catalena’s Bible, the silver candlesticks her
mother and father had given Catalena as a wedding gift, her aunt’s
favorite teapot, a gold crucifix on a chain that had belonged to
Jenica.
Sad, Elena thought as she placed the
items in a box and stowed them in the back of the Porsche, that
there were so few happy memories from her childhood.
The next day, she put the house and all
its contents—including Dinescu’s clothes and her own, the furniture
and appliances—up for sale. After meeting with the Realtor, she
drove away from the house and didn’t look back.
Later that afternoon, she called Mr.
Balescu and informed him that the money from the savings account,
as well as the net proceeds from the sale of the house, were to be
sent to Borsa Castle to be used for her uncle’s care.
Done and done, she thought as she ended
the call. She had no ties left to her uncle. She had done her best
by him, which was more than he deserved, and now, at last, it was
over.
The next few weeks passed peacefully
and life at Wolfram Castle settled into a pleasant routine. They
had electricity now. It was such a pleasure, Elena sometimes went
from room to room flicking the lights on and off, just because she
could. She spent her days caring for the house. There was plenty to
keep her busy—clothes to wash, furniture to dust, floors to vacuum
and sweep. Having music playing in the background made the chores
seem less like work. She rarely went into the garden, although she
did plant a chestnut tree in the place where she had discovered her
cousin’s body.
And when she got lonely during the day,
the cat was there. Somehow, he always knew when she needed
company.
“When do you sleep?” she asked Drake
one night. “During the day, you’re here in your cat form, and at
night, you’re Drake.”
“You forget how much the cat sleeps,”
he replied with an easy grin. “I love those catnaps. And I sleep at
night, when you do.”
As time went on, Elena grew
increasingly fond of Andrei and Katiya. They were very much in
love, anyone could see that, and excited at the prospect of
becoming parents. If it weren’t for the fact that the other people
in the house slept by day and didn’t eat, she might have forgotten
they were vampires.
Some nights, the four of them played
cards. Some nights they played chess, a game that Drake invariably
won. Other nights they walked in the moonlight or went swimming in
the lake, or spent a quiet evening at home, reading. They often
watched movies until the wee hours of the morning.
Elena’s favorite way to pass the night
was dancing with Drake. She loved being close to him, reveled in
the sense of wonder she felt whenever he was near, the way he
looked at her, his dark eyes filled with love and longing. And a
distant sadness she often saw reflected in her own eyes when she
looked in the mirror.
She tried not to think of the future,
of the time when Drake and Katiya would have to return to the
Fortress, but it was always there, in the back of her mind, a
nagging worry that Rodin would somehow discover the truth, that he
would torture Drake again, or worse, execute him.
It seemed the harder she tried not to
think about the future, the more often it popped into her mind, and
when she was successful at keeping her worries at bay during the
daylight hours, they turned her dreams into nightmares. Nightmares
that became increasingly more real, more vivid.
In her dreams, Drake was again locked
in the tower. Only this time there was no reprieve and Rodin left
him there, to be slowly burned alive, until nothing remained of the
man she loved but a pile of gray ashes. Night after night, she woke
screaming or in tears.
And then, all too soon, the night she
had been dreading arrived.
Elena and Drake were sitting in front
of the fire, taking turns reading Wuthering Heights aloud, when Stefan
appeared. One look at his face, and Elena knew he had brought bad
news.
“You are needed at the Fortress,
immediately,” Stefan said. “Gerret has challenged Rodin for
leadership of the Coven.”
“Gerret!” Drake exclaimed, rising.
Gerret was the Master of the Irish Fortress. “I do not believe
it.”
“It is true, nevertheless. Liliana sent
me to bring you back.”
Drake swore. If his mother wanted him
home, she must be apprehensive about the outcome of the battle. He
could understand that. If Rodin lost, she would have to leave the
Fortress, as would all the vampires who lived there. As for the
sheep, they would become prey for Gerret and his Coven. He doubted
Liliana cared one way or the other what happened to the sheep, but
she considered the Fortress home.
“What brought this on?” Drake asked.
“Gerret has never shown any interest in acquiring more land or more
power.”
Stefan shrugged. “Who can say? The meet
is set for the day after tomorrow at midnight. Gerret’s
second-in-command is already at the Fortress. Rodin has named you
as his second.”
Drake uttered a short, pithy
oath.
“What shall I tell him?”
Andrei materialized in the room and
took his place beside Drake. “I do not like this. I smell
treachery.”
Drake nodded.
Elena’s gaze darted from one man to the
other. “What kind of treachery?”
Andrei shook his head. “Something is
off. Gerret has never expressed any interest in expanding his
holdings.” He looked at Stefan. “Who did he send as his
second?”
“Florin.”
Andrei and Stefan exchanged
glances.
“What?” Drake asked
sharply.
“If you spent more time at the
Fortress, you would know what is going on,” Stefan said, a faint
note of accusation in his tone. “This is not about territory. It is
about revenge.”
“What kind of revenge?” Elena
asked.
“Florin is the son of Rodin’s fourth
wife, Nadiya Korzha,” Andrei explained. “He got into a fight with
Olaf over one of the sheep and Rodin banished Florin from the
Fortress. Nadiya has never forgiven him for that. Gerret took
Florin under his wing. Florin does not care who wins the upcoming
battle. All he wants is a way into the Fortress. If Gerret destroys
Rodin, so much the better. As far as I can tell, Florin’s only
interest is in avenging himself on Olaf.”
“Which will cause more tension between
Liliana and Nadiya,” Stefan remarked.
Drake raked his fingers through his
hair. “All this because of one of the sheep?” he muttered
irritably.
“There is more to it than that,” Stefan
said. “Rodin gave the sheep to Olaf. Rather than stay with him, she
killed herself. It is said that Florin was in love with the
girl.”
“In love?” Drake exclaimed. “With one
of the sheep?”
“Like I said, if you spent more time at
the Fortress, you would know what is going on. Many of the younger
ones are not happy with our current laws. Our young men and women
do not like being told who to marry.”
“I can understand that,” Drake
muttered.
“Our men and women often want more from
the sheep than nourishment.”
Drake swore under his breath. “Why tell
me all this? It is Rodin who should hear your complaints, not
me.”
“He will not listen.”
“Back to the matter at hand,” Drake
said, glancing at his brothers. “Who else knows about Florin’s plan
for revenge ?”
Stefan shook his head. “No
one.”
Drake glared at Stefan. “And you left
Olaf there, with no one to protect his back?”
“I told Ciprian that I did not trust
Florin and ordered him to shadow the intruder’s every move until I
return.”
Drake nodded. Ciprian was another of
his half brothers.
“Something troubles you,” Stefan
said.
“Florin is not the type to risk his
life over a woman.”
Stefan frowned thoughtfully. “You think
he intends to challenge Rodin for banishing him from the
Fortress?”
“Florin has no chance in battle against
Gerret and even less against Rodin, but if Gerret should win,
Florin would again have access to the Fortress. Gerret might even
put him in charge of the Fortress and its people.” Drake shook his
head. The odds of Florin besting either Gerret or Rodin in battle
were slim to none.
“Stefan, stay here with Elena. Andrei,
you and Katiya will come with me.”
“Wait a minute!” Elena said. “I’m going
with you.”
“No.”
“Yes!”
“Elena, be reasonable,” Drake said. “I
cannot take you to the Fortress with me.”
She bit back her protest. He was right,
of course. If Rodin saw her with Drake, it would give rise to
questions they dared not answer. But how could she stay here? “Are
you going to fight?”
“I am going to watch Rodin’s back while
Andrei watches Olaf.”
“What if Rodin loses?” Elena asked.
“What then?”
With a reassuring smile, Drake pulled
her into his arms and kissed her. “Pray that does not
happen.”
Rodin demanded an audience the moment
Drake and Katiya returned to the Fortress. After spending time with
Elena, Drake found it difficult to go back to pretending that he
and Katiya were happily wed and joyfully anticipating the birth of
their first child, but both Rodin and Liliana seemed
convinced.
After the initial greetings were over,
Katiya and Liliana left the men to converse alone.
“So,” Rodin said, sitting back in his
chair. “Married life agrees with you.”
“We get on well together.” Drake sat in
his mother’s chair, his legs stretched out in front of
him.
“Stefan told you about
Gerret?”
“You are not worried about the outcome
of the challenge, are you?”
Rodin snorted. “The Irishman is no
threat. It is obvious that Florin set this up to accomplish his own
agenda.”
“I will take care of
Florin.”
“If I lose the fight, you must
challenge Gerret. I do not want your mother to have to leave the
Fortress.”
“Of course,” Drake said, frowning. “But
that will not happen.”
“I cannot control this Coven and the
Irish territory, as well. When I have defeated Gerret, your mother
and I will move to the Irish Fortress temporarily. She has always
wanted to visit Ireland. You will take over the Coven here until we
return. It will make a good home for you and Katiya and your
child.”
“No.” Drake shook his head
emphatically. “No. I do not want to live here. Nor do I wish the
responsibilities of being a Master Vampire.”
“You are the oldest and the strongest
of my sons. You have pledged your life and your allegiance to me,
and you will do as you are told.”
Drake sat back, his mind spinning. “And
if I refuse?”
“You will not.”
With Drake gone, Elena couldn’t sit
still. She moved from one thing to another, unable to concentrate
on anything. She tried to watch a movie, she tried reading a book,
playing solitaire, baking a cake. She couldn’t concentrate on the
movie or the book, she tossed the cards on the floor, she burned
the cake.
She talked Stefan into helping her
rearrange the furniture in the main hall, but quickly lost
interest.
“I can’t stay here,” she said, arms
akimbo. “It’s killing me, not knowing what’s going
on!”
“What do you want me to do?” Stefan
asked.
“Take me to the Fortress.”
“No way. Drake would have my head, if
Rodin did not take it first.”
She dropped down on the sofa, which was
now in the center of the room. “How do vampires fight,
anyway?”
“With swords.”
“Swords! How positively
medieval.”
“You have no idea.” He took a seat on
the nearest chair and stretched his legs out in front of
him.
“Drake said they fight to the
death.”
Stefan nodded. He had seen a few
challenges in his time. Some were quickly over. Others turned into
blood baths. Either way, they were not pretty.
“Will Rodin win?”
“Undoubtedly. There is no one better
with a sword except perhaps Drake.”
“Swords,” she murmured.
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. Something otherworldly.”
She paused a moment. There had been no swords involved when Drake
killed his brother. “How did Drake kill Vardin?”
Stefan leaned forward, his expression
solemn. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“I think so,” she said, then frowned.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“It was not as quick as a sword thrust,
or as merciful.”
“So, what did he do?” she asked, her
curiosity piqued.
“Drake ripped his heart
out.”
She swallowed hard. “With . . . with
his hands?”
Stefan nodded. “You look a little pale.
Can I get you anything?”
“No. No, I’m fine.” She recalled the
body lying under a blanket on the floor of her room in the
Fortress, the awful bloody stain on the blanket, and on the rug
beneath.
Wrapping her arms around her middle,
she whispered, “I think I’m going to be sick.”
In a blur too quick for human eyes to
follow, Stefan left the room, only to return a moment later,
chamber pot in hand.
She grabbed it just in
time.
He left again, returning with a damp
washcloth, a dry towel, and a glass of warm water. She quickly
wiped her face, then rinsed her mouth. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” he said, grinning as he
took the chamber pot and soiled linen and left the
room.
Elena sighed. She didn’t know which was
worse, throwing up, or doing so in front of Stefan.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured when he
returned. “I guess vampires don’t throw up.”
“No. Not a pretty sight.”
“I suppose not. Are you sure Drake
isn’t going to fight?”
Stefan’s gaze slid away from
hers.
“Stefan?”
“He will not fight. Unless Rodin is
defeated.”