“You did betray him and steal his throne.”

“Well, yes, but only after he went barking mad,” Radu said impatiently. “I wasn’t stupid, Dory. I knew the Turks were trying to use me, but something had to be done about Vlad. I’ve never forgotten the sight of the corpses, thousands of them, staked alive on the fields around Tirgoviste. In all the years since, I’ve never known anything like it.”

“There were more killed in some battles in the world wars.”

“Yes, but not with the . . . the precision, the intent. You remember—he had the stakes laid out in geometric patterns, so he could climb that tower of his and gloat over the pictures they made.”

“No, I don’t recall that. I’d been given to a bunch of Gypsies, remember?”

“Oh, yes.” Radu looked at me vaguely. “How did that turn out for you, then?”

I stared at him. Five hundred years later and he finally thinks to ask. “Oh, peachy. They kept cats around to keep mice off the food, and me to kill any vamps that tried to munch on them. Fun times.” Until they all ended up dead, anyway.

“Oh, good.”

I bit back a retort. I was fast recalling why I usually avoided conversations with Radu. “My point, if you’ll let me make it, is that we both have the same enemy. Okay”—I held up a hand to avoid another waltz down memory lane—“Drac may be planning a more elaborate send-off for you, but me being dead still figures in his plans somewhere. It doesn’t in mine.”

“Then you had best tell Mircea you won’t be going after him. He needs to know, in order to plan something else.”

I regarded him through the heavy, cut-crystal glass. A dozen little Radus looked back at me, each as clueless as the last. “And what, exactly, do you think his backup plan is? Who would be crazy enough to face Drac? Even if there wasn’t a war on, I think it’s safe to say that’s one commission most people would pass up.” I actually knew a few bounty hunters who might be stupid enough to try, for the right fee, but I doubted they’d do more than make Uncle feel insulted that they’d been sent against him. Right before he turned them into meat.

“Mircea would deal with it,” Radu offered unhelpfully, “but he’s trying to arrange a meeting of the six senates.”

“Why?” Having one group of crazed senior vamps around was enough.

“The war, of course. It’s becoming quite bothersome.”

I decided to let that conversation wait for another time. The less I knew about what Mircea was doing, the better I tended to sleep. “So, anyway, we have a common enemy—”

“You’ve said that.”

I took a deep breath and tried one more time. “The way I see it, we have two choices. We can cower in here until Drac raises enough of a force to come in and get us, or we can go on the offensive. I prefer the latter, since letting him call the shots is a good way to end up dead. Or worse,” I added, considering that Radu was probably right about his brother’s plans.

“And how do ‘we’ do that? I told you, I’m not a fighter, Dory. That army I led was Turkish, and so were its commanders. I was mostly there as a figurehead, so the people had someone from one of the old families to consider their ruler instead of a Turkish prince. I didn’t make many decisions.”

“You won’t have to fight him,” I assured Radu.

“Oh, good.” He looked relieved.

I drained my drink and patted him affectionately on the leg. “You’re the bait.”

Chapter Eight

As I’d expected, the rub came more from Louis-Cesare than Radu. Uncle was smart enough to realize that if the only choice was either to face Drac when he was unprepared or wait for him to gather more followers, the former was infinitely preferable. The only thing we could come up with that was likely to force him to act before he was ready was the prospect of catching both of us together in an undefended area. And that meant a change of venue.

Not surprisingly, Louis-Cesare wasn’t pleased. He didn’t like the idea of Radu leaving the relatively safe confines of MAGIC for his country estate, despite the fact that said house and grounds were a maze of magical traps that Radu had spent years developing. It seemed that every time he invented something new for the Senate, he tested it out at his place. For our purposes, it was perfect. Drac would find us a hell of a lot more prepared than he expected. Louis-Cesare seemed unable to grasp that simple point, however.

“I absolutely forbid it! Gamble with your own life if you must, but not with his!”

“That’s up to Radu to say, don’t you think? Is he your master, or vice versa?”

Radu, who was supervising the loading of a lot of large, smelly cages into a truck, ostentatiously ignored us. He was taking his menagerie of genetic horrors with him, to continue his work from his home lab, and the unusually heavy rainstorm we were getting was making the shift difficult. It seemed the things didn’t like getting wet. Contrary to popular belief, the Mojave does get rain from time to time, only the dry, hard-packed soil doesn’t deal with it well. I hopped over a fast-forming orange red puddle that was leaching onto the concrete as ’Du jabbed at a giant claw with a cattle prod. It had wormed its way through the bars of a cage and snagged one of his assistants. Obviously, dealing with Louis-Cesare was up to me.

“I am trying to ensure his safety,” he was saying fiercely. “Something to which you seem entirely indifferent.”

I gave him a flat look. “Our job is to deal with Drac, not to guard Radu.”

“I will not sacrifice my master to your revenge,” I was informed bluntly.

“This isn’t about revenge! It’s about saving Claire.”

“Then I will not trade Radu’s life for the woman’s. If we can trap Dracula without endangering Radu, well and good. If not—”

“You’d see him go free?” I stared at him, but his face was utterly implacable. He meant it. The stubborn, condescending, self-important son of a bitch actually meant it. And this was the guy Mircea had sent along to help me! I reined in the impulse to connect Louis-Cesare’s head with the driveway a few times and smiled. “Okay. Let’s go over it again,” I said brightly.

“I have heard more than enough,” was the grim reply. “You are reckless, and a danger to yourself and everyone near you. How—”

“I’m reckless? Who almost got us killed on the plane?”

“—you have survived this long I do not know, but I will not allow you to commit suicide and take Lord Radu with you! Other plans will be made. You will be informed of them when necessary.” He turned in Uncle’s direction and actually started to walk away.

“Hey!” I grabbed the closest thing, which happened to be his rain poncho. “Did I say we were done here?”

The temperature of the surrounding air skyrocketed. “I would advise you to remove your hand, dhampir, while it remains attached to your body.”

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you.”

Blue eyes narrowed dangerously. “And what does that mean?”

“It means you have a habit of violating my personal space. Tell me, is that a French thing, or do you just like touching me?”

Blood moved in his face, spreading over his cheeks before draining away and deserting them. “You believe you can say anything you wish to me, and I have no choice but to accept it because of your father.”

I blinked in surprise. I’d used that line on Marlowe, but only as a taunt. I didn’t make a habit of hiding behind Daddy’s reputation. I had one of my own, and there were damn few vamps who forgot it.

“Mircea gets me into a lot more trouble than he’s ever gotten me out of,” I said tersely. “Current situation included. The only reason he didn’t let you stake me in New York was because his ass is in the fire and I’m expected to pull it out. Again.”

“You understand nothing!” Louis-Cesare radiated anger like heat. “I have been told a dozen times today that I was mad to assault you in front of him, mad to think that my opinions might stand against those of his only true child, his only living flesh!”

I choked, caught halfway between a laugh and a curse. “Someone’s been pulling your leg, big-time.” Louis-Cesare looked confused. “They’ve been making a joke at your expense,” I clarified. “Believe me, the only value I hold for Mircea is whatever I can do for him. I’m another weapon in his arsenal, nothing more, and the whole vamp community knows it.”

“And what would you know of the ‘community’?” Louis-Cesare demanded. “When did you ever live among us, Dorina? You choose to stay on the fringes of our society so that you may pick off the weak, but you were never part of it!”

Bitterness shivered through me like a chill. “Yeah, I choose. Gee, I wonder why that is. Maybe because every time I get anywhere near it, someone tries to kill me! Unlike you.” I looked him up and down, with a sneer I didn’t bother to hide. “Basarab line with no taint of bad blood, Senate member, dueling champ. You’re a bloody vamp hero, Louis! What would you know of my life?”

“More than you do of mine, it would seem.” Louis-Cesare’s eyes burned blue fire. “For centuries, my own master refused to have anything to do with me. I was known as the outcast, the one our famous line wanted no part of. While you, a dhampir with the blood of our people still dripping from your hands, were welcomed with open arms! You laugh at them, despise them, threaten to kill them, time and again, and still they want you. Yet every advance I make is thrown back in my face!”

I blinked at him. The fact that I’d never heard of Radu’s offspring suddenly made more sense. “But why spurn you?” Louis-Cesare was the perfect scion, the gallant son whose accomplishments might just cover the blots on the family page. Like Drac. Like me.

His mouth twisted bitterly. “Ask your father if you wish to know. Or Lord Radu. Perhaps they will tell you the truth.”