He paced back and forth in front of the fireplace for a moment, then turned to face her. “All right,” he said. “I will take you. But you will have to stay out of sight. And after he kills me, I expect you to put flowers on my grave.”

“I promise.”

Moving quicker than her eye could follow, he wrapped her in his arms. “Hang on tight, Mrs. Sherrad,” he whispered in her ear, and then he swore again. “I know I am going to regret this.”

Elena closed her eyes as a familiar feeling of dizziness and nausea swept over her. There was the sense of flying through time, of freewheeling through space, and then nothing. When she opened her eyes, she was standing under a tree, wrapped in Stefan’s arms.

He smiled down at her. “You know,” he said, hugging her closer, “I could get used to this.”

“What?” She looked up at him, her thoughts obviously elsewhere.

“Nothing.” He pointed up the mountain. “Look.”

At first, Elena didn’t see anything. But, gradually, she saw flickering lights moving down the side of the mountain, slowly growing larger, brighter, until she could make out four vampires carrying torches. Behind them, coming single-file, she saw Rodin and Drake, and following them, two other vampires she didn’t recognize. All eight wore long black cloaks. And then, trailing far behind, she saw another dark shape that cut away from the group and quickly disappeared into the trees.

“Do not move.” Stefan whispered the words. “Try not to breathe.”

“Did you see the other vampire?”

Stefan nodded. “It was Liliana. She is not supposed to be here, either.”

Elena wrapped her arms around her waist. What if Liliana had seen them? Well, said a little voice in the back of her mind, what if she had? She couldn’t say anything without incriminating herself. That knowledge should have been comforting, but it wasn’t.

The vampires in the clearing were moving, spreading out. The four torchbearers formed a circle around Rodin and his opponent. In the bright silver glow of a full moon, she easily identified Drake. Taller than the others, he stood outside the circle, behind Rodin. The eighth vampire took a similar stance behind the challenger.

Rodin tossed his cloak aside and Elena saw that he wore a pair of black leather pants and boots and nothing else. His opponent was similarly attired. Each carried a sword. The long silver blades glinted in the moonlight.

Silver, Elena thought. It would make each cut doubly painful for the vampires.

One of the torchbearing vampires moved to stand between Rodin and his opponent. “Rodin Sherrad, Master of the Carpathian Fortress,” he intoned, his voice carrying clearly in the quiet. “Be it known that Gerret Lynch, Master of the Irish Fortress, has come here this night to lay down a challenge for your lands and holdings. Do you accept? Or concede?”

“I accept.”

“Florin Korzha. Drake Sherrad. You have been chosen as seconds. Come forward.”

Drake and Florin took a step forward. Drake inclined his head, and Florin did likewise.

“All those required to be in attendance are here present,” the torchbearer said solemnly. “Let whatever blood is shed this night be done with honor.” And so saying, he returned to his place in the circle.

For a moment, it was as if the vampires in the clearing were frozen in time.

Elena shivered as a low, keening wind sprang up, rattling the leaves of the trees, causing the torches to flicker erratically. She looked up at Stefan. His eyes burned red as he stared at the scene in the clearing.

Without taking her eyes from the combatants, she asked, “Why is Florin’s last name Korzha if he’s Rodin’s son?”

“Only Liliana and her children carry his surname.” Like Elena, Stefan kept his attention on Rodin and his opponent. “His other children take their mother’s maiden names.”

There was no signal given that Elena could see, but suddenly Rodin and his opponent were moving. The ring of metal against metal was very loud in the stillness of the night. As the blades met, the wind howled through the trees.

Elena shivered again. She risked a look at Drake. His hands were clenched at his sides, his face like something carved from stone.

She turned her attention back to the battle. The vampires moved so swiftly, there were times when they were little more than a blur so that she couldn’t tell one from the other.

Power shimmered through the air as sword met sword. When the scent of blood filled the air, the two vampires parted, and Elena saw that the challenger was bleeding from a long gash in his left arm.

The two combatants came together again and again.

It was like being caught up in a nightmare. The wind howling. The blood in the air. The ringing of metal striking metal. The blazing red eyes of the vampires, the light of the torches casting eerie shadows on the ground.

It seemed as if the fight would go on forever when Rodin suddenly feinted left, pivoted in a circle, and drove his sword through his opponent’s heart. The other vampire fell backward, his sword dropping from his hand. Before Gerret hit the ground, Rodin’s blade swung again, cleanly severing the challenger’s head.

Retching, Elena turned away, her arms folded over her stomach. Stefan had been right. She should have stayed home.

From behind her, someone shouted, “Stop him!”

In the distance, Elena heard a scream filled with such pain, such agony, it raised the short hairs along her nape.

Beside her, Stefan hissed, “No!”

Afraid of what she might see, Elena glanced over her shoulder. Rodin lay on the ground, a long wooden stake protruding from his chest, exactly where his heart would be. A dark stain pooled beneath him.

In the blink of an eye, Drake had Florin by the throat.

And Liliana was kneeling at Rodin’s side, a look of horrified disbelief on her face.

One of the torchbearers drew a sword from beneath his cloak and took a step forward, clearly intending to take Rodin’s head.

With a wild cry, Stefan propelled himself across the field. Grabbing the sword from the other vampire’s hand, Stefan drove the blade into his heart, then whirled around, ready to fight the remaining vampires, if necessary. The three remaining torchbearers dropped their cloaks to the ground. None of them carried weapons.

Elena stared at the grisly scene and then, slowly, lifted her gaze to find Drake staring at her over Florin’s shoulder.

Chapter 28

Elena knew a moment of fear when Drake’s gaze met hers. Eyes burning red, fangs bared, he stared at her over the head of the vampire struggling in his grasp. She wondered what had possessed the other vampire to stab Rodin from behind, but it was immaterial at the moment.

She had forgotten how frightening Drake’s vampire mien could be. With her, he had always been so gentle and tender, it had been easy to forget that beneath his courtly exterior there lurked a deadly predator who lived on human blood.

One of the torchbearers stepped forward. After pulling on a pair of gloves, he reached into the pocket of his trousers and withdrew a pair of silver handcuffs.

Florin ceased his struggles once the shackles were locked in place.

Elena remained where she was, her heart pounding with trepidation. She knew Drake wouldn’t betray her presence, but other vampires were arriving now, followed by a handful of drones. One of them picked up Gerret’s body and carried it away.

In the flickering light, Elena recognized some of the vampires as members of the Council. They formed a large, silent circle that encompassed Drake, Florin, Stefan, Liliana, and the fallen Master Vampire.

And then Liliana rose to her feet. Eyes blazing, cheeks streaked with scarlet tears, she picked up her husband’s sword. “Rodin, Master of the Carpathian Fortress, has been destroyed by treachery.” Her voice rang out in the darkness. “I seek a champion to avenge his death and return the Fortress to its rightful heirs.”

Every member of the Council took a step forward, as did Stefan and Drake.

Hidden in the shadows, Elena murmured, “No. Oh, no,” as Liliana offered the sword to Drake.

Liliana nodded. “As Rodin’s eldest son, I honor you with the task of avenging your sire’s death.”

With a nod, Drake took the sword from her hand.

“According to our laws,” Liliana said, “you may challenge Florin Korzha, or you may execute him for his treachery. The choice is yours.”

Drake removed his cloak and shirt and tossed them aside. “Release him,” he said, his voice as lethal as the weapon in his hand. “An execution is too swift. Too merciful.”

One of the drones stepped forward and removed the shackles from Florin’s wrists. Even in the dim light, Elena could see that Florin’s skin had already blistered and blackened where the silver had touched him.

Drake glanced at his brother. “Stefan, give him your blade.”

Stefan glared at Drake, then threw Gerret’s weapon on the ground.

Florin’s gaze darted from left to right as he picked up the bloodstained sword. Then, lips peeled back to reveal his fangs, he sprang toward Drake.

Elena took a step forward, hardly daring to breathe. Rodin had fought swiftly, skillfully, meting out more punishment than he had received. Florin was not as adept. His moves were slower, less confident.

Drake fought coldly, precisely, his sword slicing into his opponent again and again. Aside from the exquisite pain of silver biting into preternatural flesh, the blade inflicted no lasting damage, the vampire’s wounds healing almost immediately, though there would be scars.

Elena choked back a cry as Florin’s sword opened a long gash across Drake’s chest. He seemed immune to the pain as he parried Florin’s next thrust. As the fight went on, Elena realized that Drake could have ended it at any time. He was deliberately prolonging the battle in order to inflict as much pain as he could before delivering the final coup de grâce.

When the end came, it came swiftly. The sword in Drake’s hand moved faster than her eye could follow, opening dozens of deep gashes on Florin’s arms, legs, back, and chest before a well-placed thrust drove Drake’s sword into his opponent’s heart.