He just … fell. One moment he was an insane killer; the next he was a corpse, nothing more. The branch jerked out of her shaking arm as he tumbled limply to the ground.

For a moment she could only stare, and think, I needed that! But pulling the stake out was a bad idea; Balthazar said that would allow the vampire to awaken. Lorenzo was out of commission only as long as she left it in.

Skye wheeled Eb around, clucking reassuringly for him, to look for another branch. Her gaze swept across the tide pool, and she gasped as she saw something roll just beneath the surface—something that looked like a dead body—

Which is what Balthazar is, right now, and he’s going to stay that way if you don’t do something about it.

She dismounted and combed through the underbrush, looking for another branch; soon she found one less sturdy but perhaps long enough to work. Carefully she picked through the icy edges of the tide pool, her leather riding boots making only the slightest imprint in the frozen mud. As the ice cracked around her feet, she took a deep breath and leaned forward.

There, beneath the murky water, she could see Balthazar’s face. His features were still, his eyes open. Though she’d never seen a drowning victim, she knew now what one looked like, and it sent a chill through her that had nothing to do with the bitter cold.

If he was conscious and could see her, he wasn’t able to act or even to give her a sign. Skye leaned forward and reached out with the branch to snag the shoulder of his long coat; it wasn’t nearly sturdy enough to drag him, but the tide pool’s current kept the water roiling. Maybe just getting him to drift closer would be enough.

It worked, or well enough. Balthazar floated closer to the edge, lying flat just beneath the surface, like a male version of that Ophelia painting. Skye hesitated only a second before ripping off her leather gloves and thick coat; they’d do her more good later if they weren’t wet.

Then she stooped down and plunged her hands through the thin ice, into the frigid water, to grab Balthazar.

But, oh, God, he was heavy. She hadn’t realized how heavy dead weight could be—and even if Balthazar had been in any shape to help her, he was at least six feet three and heavily muscled. Did he weigh two hundred pounds? More? Skye knew she had more upper-body strength than most women, thanks to her many years handling saddles, but it took all her might to tow him from the tide pool.

Even after she’d dragged him free of the water, Balthazar didn’t revive. Teeth chattering, Skye pulled her coat on over her damp sweater and clumsily attempted to replace her gloves for a moment before giving up. The other vampires were probably after them—unless Redgrave had stopped them, but that would only mean that he was in pursuit instead. How was she going to get out of here? Eb could carry them both, but there was no way she could get Balthazar on the horse. With her white, numb fingers, she shook his shoulder. “Balthazar. Balthazar, wake up!”

“He won’t be able to hear you for a while yet.” Redgrave strolled into the clearing near the tide pool, his slicked-back, golden hair unmussed, and his usual carefree smile upon his face. “Hours, I’d think. If he doesn’t get blood soon—days. And since our mutual friend prefers animal blood to human, I’d count on days, if I were you.”

Skye remained crouched by Balthazar’s side. As badly as she wanted to think Redgrave was lying, she knew he wasn’t.

“You look as frightened as a fawn separated from its mother. As fragile, too.” He fixed her in his glittering hazel gaze, and she understood how he might captivate—or hypnotize—someone just with his eyes. Then he glanced over at Lorenzo, who still lay crumpled on the ground with the branch jutting from his chest. “You’re not, though, are you? Here, let me see to that.”

While Redgrave bent over Lorenzo, Skye wondered if she could run, but it was impossible. Redgrave was faster, Eb was several feet away, and leaving Balthazar behind probably meant leaving him for Redgrave to shove back out into the river—or worse. No, she’d have to think fast. Could she bargain with him for her blood? But what was the point of bargaining with him for something he’d soon take by force? Soon he’d unstake Lorenzo, and the two of them would be after her at once, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Redgrave took something from his jacket—something that glinted silver in the pale winter sunlight—and swung down hard. Lorenzo’s head lolled to one side … no, it was rolling, rolling free of his body.

Lorenzo, now beheaded and finally, utterly dead, decayed in an instant. His skin curled up and blackened like paper in fire; his flesh crumbled to dust, the bones following. What rolled to the river still looked a little like a skull when it sank through the slushy ice and vanished. Skye gagged.

“There, there. The worst is over. For now, I mean.” Redgrave walked closer to her, his hands clasped behind his back. “You’ll want help getting Balthazar on your horse, won’t you?”

She remained motionless, staring up at him. Her voice cracked when she finally spoke. “You’re just—letting him go.”

“Letting both of you go. Unless, of course, you choose to stay with me. Which would be both charming and sensible of you.” Redgrave’s grin would have been blindingly handsome, but for the fangs.

“Why would you do that?” There had to be a catch.

Redgrave sighed as he stooped by her side. Their faces were once again close, and she felt the intensity of his presence. “I don’t want to brutalize you, Skye. I want to convince you that joining me is the right thing for you to do. The only thing.”