I didn’t know who Ian was talking about, but Vlad must have because he said, “No. Denise has a heartbeat and the tape might have picked up on that. That’s one of the reasons why I needed a vampire instead of a shape-shifter.”

“And you didn’t bother sharing your plan with any of us first.” Then Ian’s gaze landed on me. “Or did he?”

“I didn’t know,” I said, feeling sick. “I swear, I would have never let you barter your soul to that demon if I had!”

“You did what?” Vlad’s gaze narrowed and he looked around warily, as if expecting a demon to pop up. “When?”

Ian muttered a string of profanity and didn’t answer. Instead, he walked toward the farmhouse, kicking the snow as he went as if he were furious with it, too. I didn’t try to stop him. After everything that had happened, I’d be in an incurably foul mood, too.

“Apparently, some demon named Dagon has been after Ian, but Ian kept him away with a groin tattoo,” I filled Vlad in. “Don’t ask me how—I’m not clear on that. Anyway, when Ian cut it off, Dagon appeared and somehow froze time in this spot except I—I wasn’t affected.” I’d go into why later. “That’s why none of you were aware of what was taking place, but Ian offered Dagon his soul in exchange for Mencheres’s life. The demon agreed, and after he sealed the deal, he told Ian that Mencheres was already alive because the body over there wasn’t his. Then he disappeared and time unfroze, or whatever.”

Vlad’s brow had kept rising as I spoke until, at last, it nearly melded with his hairline. Finally, he said, “If anyone else had told me this, I would swear they were lying or insane.”

“I’m not lying, but you did,” I said, my hurt showing in my voice as I remembered trying to comfort Vlad after believing that he was torn up over killing Samir. “You lied every moment since Mircea’s captors carved that message into me. Why?”

Vlad gave me an unreadable look. “For one, I needed the recording I just made to look authentic. You have a terrible poker face. So does Martin. And Mircea’s captors needed to believe that I had killed Mencheres as they ordered me to, especially when they hear that three of their members are missing and one of their nightclubs burned down. Worse, if they saw Mircea being burned at the same time that the warehouse fire took place, they’ll know it was me, so only my supposed obedience with Mencheres’s death will save your life.”

I hadn’t thought of that. Mircea had been screaming his head off when he’d gotten burned through me. His captors were vampires; our only chance that they hadn’t heard him was if they hadn’t been anywhere near him at the time.

Yet if they had been, then they’d have to be stupid not to put together Mircea being burned through his connection to me with the club fire. Maybe this was why I hadn’t heard from him since. He hadn’t wanted them to know that we had a mental link as well through our flesh. If they were watching him like a hawk now, he wouldn’t be able to risk hurting himself to link to me.

“Fine, I’m a bad liar, Marty is, too, and you needed our reactions to look real on the tape.” And boy, would they ever! “But Ian isn’t a bad liar,” I went on. “In fact, he probably lies for a living. Why didn’t you tell him what you were doing?”

“Exactly for that reason,” Vlad said softly, glancing at the house that Ian had disappeared into. “I didn’t trust him.”

I closed my eyes. Did I blame Vlad for that? No. Was I so, so sorry for the consequence of that lack of trust? Yes. “Then why did you go to Romania, if not to kill Samir? Or was that whole trip a lie, too?” I asked, opening my eyes.

Vlad glanced at the body, which was still only a few feet away from the car.

“It wasn’t a lie.” Sadness that wasn’t mine flitted across my emotions. “I went to Romania to ask for a volunteer from among my people for this very purpose.” Now pride and regret wrapped around my feelings. “They all volunteered, yet I chose Henri because he wasn’t part of my fighting force. You might remember Henri; he worked with Isa in the kitchens.”

I started to rake a hand through my hair before remembering that I didn’t have any. I was so relieved to know that Samir was still alive, but I didn’t remember Henri, and I felt terrible about that. He’d voluntarily given his life in a ruse designed to save mine. I should never forget someone as loyal, brave, and self-sacrificing as that.

“How were you able to do the glamour spell to begin with?” Ian hadn’t helped him with it. That much was obvious.

Vlad gave me a jaded look. “I learned it on my flight over to Romania and practiced it on my flight back. Yet appearance-altering glamour alone wouldn’t be enough. I also had to show a body withering or Mircea’s captors would know that it wasn’t Mencheres. That’s why I couldn’t use the shape-shifter Ian mentioned earlier. It’s also why I couldn’t use a human. Furthermore, I had my people procure bones as old as Mencheres, if Mircea’s captors demand additional proof of his death.”

He’d been thorough in his scheming, and I’d had no idea. From the lack of surprise on Maximus’s face, he had.

“You told him, didn’t you?” I said accusingly.

Vlad didn’t say anything and a spike of his irritation pricked my emotions. I jumped all over it.

“Don’t you dare start with the whole ‘I’ve been outwitting my enemies for several hundred years, and I don’t need someone second-guessing my decisions now.’ I’m your wife, not one of your minions, so since you didn’t see fit to tell me all this before, you’re damn sure going to tell me now.”