Vlad stiffened. “She is not for me. I would know if she was.”

Damien raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Don’t tell me the movies about you are right and you’re going to spend eternity looking for some tart who threw herself out a window because she thought you were dead. I mean, it’s been done, you know?”

Vlad stared at Damien for a long moment. “You know,” he finally said, “a lot of times I’m not quite sure whether to laugh or punch you.”

Damien shrugged. “Since you continue to speak to me, I guess it works for you.”

Vlad just shook his head, though he didn’t look particularly amused at the moment. “Yes, I suppose it must. And, no, the traditional story about me is… wrong. In some ways.”

Damien looked up sharply from plucking at the fabric on the arm of the couch, his interest piqued. He knew little of Vlad’s past, and the man certainly wasn’t one to volunteer much about it. But he saw immediately that Vlad wasn’t interested in continuing down this particular path.

He surprised himself by taking pity on the man and rising. Who was he kidding? He’d prolonged the agony long enough. He needed to see Ariane. Not that admitting it to himself made him feel any better.

“Well, I’ll leave you to your books. Thanks for trying anyway, Vlad. I’ll come up with something. I always do.”

“You certainly do,” Vlad agreed, the hard lines of his mouth softening into a smile. “I’ll say that for you.”

Damien headed for the door, then stopped and turned at the sudden memory of something Vlad had said in passing. It might or might not be pertinent, but he’d be damned if he missed something just because he was mooning over his would-be partner.

“What made your week so terrible, by the way? More fallout from the actions of our favorite demon queen?”

Vlad’s smile turned rueful. He ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, I suppose this is just the new normal. I hadn’t realized quite what a powder keg the Vampiric Council was until Lily started shaking things up. I knew that the Lilim’s rise would create issues. But she is moving more quickly—and in different directions—than I would have expected.” He sighed and shook his head. “Mormo said it long ago, that there would come a time when we would all have to come together, or shatter. But I always thought the change would come over time.”

Damien raised his eyebrows. “Ah. So you went to seek Mormo’s counsel.”

Vlad sighed, a hollow sound. “For as much good as it did me. So much is shifting. Change doesn’t even come easily to me, and I was the youngest of the leaders before Lily came. I’m proud to call myself her ally. But sides are being chosen very quickly, and I hear rumblings that Arsinöe is calling on some of her traditional allies overseas. The quiet right now is deceptive. There’s a lot of movement beneath the surface.”

“Arsinöe,” Damien muttered. “That name has begun to turn my stomach. Her gambit to enslave the werewolves was half-assed but destructive enough.”

“She plays with other bloodlines, other races, like toys,” Vlad replied, suddenly sounding weary. “She takes her petty swipes at the Lilim, picking off the weak or the unlucky when she can. Her game with the pack of the Thorn was an experiment. She lost the battle but gained plenty of information, and it wouldn’t surprise me to find that she’s taken what she learned and has targeted a different pack. I can’t say for certain yet. The Ptolemy have become very hostile to any outsiders in their territories. I’ve advised my people to steer clear… though, of course, I have eyes everywhere. Lyra is keeping her ear to the ground for me as well, though the Thorn have made enough of their own waves lately that the other packs are avoiding them.”

“A mistake,” Damien said, leaning one hip against a chair. “A wolf pack allied with a vampire dynasty would be valuable.”

Vlad waved his hand dismissively. “They’re as set in their ways as we are, Damien. But you’re right—it’s a mistake. There’s trouble coming. The Empusae are weak. The Lilim are young and still organizing. And now this strangeness from the desert… some nights I wonder whether everything will simply shatter.”

“You’re right,” Damien said. “You have plenty to worry about. All of this just confirms I made the right decision when I went into the thieving and stabbing business.”

He expected Vlad to be amused. The Dracul usually was when it came to Damien’s flippant jokes about his job. But this time, Vlad didn’t even crack a smile. The look in his eyes chilled Damien to the bone.

“Even the Shades will have to choose eventually,” Vlad said. “Likely sooner rather than later. You are not an island, Damien, no matter how much you would like to be.”

Damien had no response for that. The certainty in his friend’s voice shook him, and he wanted nothing more than to go bask in the bit of light—not sunlight, as he had fancifully imagined, but moonlight—that Ariane might provide him. The desire to see her tucked away, kept safe from all that Vlad seemed so certain was coming, rushed over him so quickly he was nearly drowning in it.

He turned away, thinking back to that stale-smelling town house of his memory, luxurious and yet shabby because he hadn’t really given a damn about any of it. Full of things, and yet full of nothing. He had never had a true treasure to guard, to protect… not even now. If he found one, perchance, how might he go about holding on to it?

Would he even be able to?

Questions to ponder another time, Damien decided, hating the mood he was in.

“She could be good for you, you know,” Vlad called to him.

When Damien turned his head to look back, Vlad had an unopened book on his lap and a glass of brandy in his hand. His gaze was still touched by that unmistakable sadness.

Damien forced a chuckle. “Oh, I’m a lost cause, Dracul. You know that.”

Vlad lifted the glass of brandy and turned it in the candlelight, examining it, though his mind seemed somewhere else.

“It’s amazing,” he murmured, “how certain women are drawn to even the most lost among us… and find beauty in what shredded tatters of goodness we possess.”

Damien considered hurling some pithy remark back at him on his way out, but Vlad’s haunted look decided him against it. Instead, he left his friend there, alone among his books, lost in the sort of memory that Damien hoped never to create for himself.

Chapter Fourteen

HE’S A COMPLETE ASS.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He’s already trying to cut me out.”

“Of course he is.”

Ariane paused in her pacing of the bedroom, gave a couple of irritated swipes with the dagger in her hand, and frowned at her reflection in the mirror.

“Elena. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to humor me,” she said into the phone she had wedged against her ear.

Elena’s burst of laughter provoked Ariane’s own. It felt good. Better than good, after last night, to know she could still laugh with a friend. It was good to know she still had a friend, that it hadn’t been just a figment of her imagination.

“Ari,” Elena said, “you’re the one who wanted to team up with a Shade. I did warn you. Waking up in another state with no stuff and no guy is pretty standard.”

Ariane sighed, walking closer to the mirror and ruffling a hand through her hair. “Well, he’s not exactly gone. But he certainly didn’t invite me along to wherever he wandered off to.”

“Again, standard. I’ve never met one who wasn’t a loner, though they’re that way for a reason—Shades don’t tend to live as long when they work in pairs. At least he ditched you someplace a lot classier than some rat-infested safe house. Not that I’d have any experience with that. Hey, if you’re going to be there a few days, I’ll send along the weapons you left, and the clothes. You didn’t leave much, and Strickland has a runner headed in your direction—he does a little business in the city.”

“That would be great,” Ariane breathed, cheered at the thought of having her things back.

Tonight she was in faded jeans and a tank top, both borrowed from one of Vlad’s employees here at the mansion. She was comfortable, but she didn’t want to leave behind what little she had brought into this world. At least Vlad had stopped to collect her sword from Damien’s car before heading for the airport. She didn’t care how outlandish Damien thought it looked; it was still hers.

“No problem,” Elena replied. “I’ll have Matt bring your stuff. And to the Dracul mansion, no less. You’ve moved up in the world—it doesn’t get much safer than that.”

“I care less about safety than I do about the fact that I’m sitting in Chicago, useless,” Ariane replied, beginning to pace again. “I don’t know this place. I don’t know why Damien thought it was a good idea to come here. It feels like everything I need to be doing is back in Charlotte.”

Her frustration bubbled back up quickly. Last night she’d been in shock, reeling from what she’d done, and had allowed Damien to decide what was best. She’d given in to her only instinct, which was to get far, far away. Tonight was one of the first times she wished she’d been a little more, well, Grigori about it all.

“I doubt it,” Elena said, sounding so sure of herself that Ariane wanted very much to believe her.

“Oh?”

“The weirdo Grigori who tried to kill Damien has almost definitely blown town. It seems pretty clear you got close quicker than he was expecting. No reason to stay in this city when there are so many other places to hide. So in the Shade’s defense, Chicago is as good a base of operations as any while you try to figure out your next move. Especially with a dynasty leader who wants to put you up.”

“True,” Ariane muttered, holding the dagger up so that the candlelight glinted off the blade. She wasn’t sure she wanted to admit to herself that what Damien had done was best. It was easier just being irritated with him.