Bitten in Two (16 page)

“Lock yourself in the study with it and shoot anything
that tries to get in. Either Berggia or I will come for you
when this is over. Do you remember the secret knock?”
Her head bobbed again, but this time she seemed
more self-assured.

“Then go.”

She rushed from the room, shoving the door closed
behind her as if it were the gate to hell itself. Perhaps a
real lady would have swooned, or at the least begged to
stay under my direct protection. I had certainly tried to
raise her in that vein, knowing full well the misery that
accompanied a life led outside Society. But my ward had
learned early that her world rotated on two axes, and if she
meant to survive she must develop a backbone strong
enough to hold her steady no matter which way it tilted. My
grandmother had been such a woman. But I had never
told Helena how my heart swelled when I saw her jaw jut
and her shoulders lift, reminding me of the tiny woman
who had fought bullies, bandits, and corrupt sheriffs to
ensure my survival.

I lifted the wolf by his ears, forcing another squeal from
him as I flung him against the wall. He recovered quickly,
pulling himself up onto his enormous paws, growling so
deeply that I felt the rumble shake the back of my chest.

He charged, the weight of his massive body making
the floor quake under my shoes. I yanked my silver
dagger, a constant companion since Helena had entered
my care, from its cradle in the hollow leg of my walking
stick. And then he was on me.

We toppled into Helena’s favorite Louis XIV settee,
our impact throwing it backward, sending my dagger
flying. My head slammed into the floor with a force that
might have stunned another man. A real man. I did not
even feel it.

Hooked fangs longer than my fingers slavered at my
throat. I shoved my fist into the maw that they surrounded,
gaining another yelp for my collection. Roldan gagged
and jerked his head back. But he was no green street
fighter. Even on the defensive, he kept his wits clear
enough to rake his enormous black claws down my sides,
scoring me so deeply that I suspected bone now showed
between flaps of flayed skin.

I cried out, but still and all, not for myself. For my girl,
whom this monster had bled and bitten, whom he had
attempted to defile.

I kicked, a sharp jab to his soft underbelly that
compromised Roldan’s balance even further. As he
staggered off of me I kept hold with one hand and rolled
with him to the wall. When I had him pinned, I shoved my
fangs deep into his throat, pouring the ice of my
cantrantia
into his blood, knowing now that my core power would not
slay, but only slow him.

His tongue drooped from his gaping mouth, stray
flecks of saliva freezing in midair. I released my grip and
lunged for the dagger, which had dropped onto the hearth
of our empty fireplace. My body screamed, tortured by the
stretch as much as if the Church had laid me on its altar. I
felt dampness on my cheeks and realized two bloody
tears had escaped my narrowed eyes. And in that
moment I felt the separateness of my selves. One half
weeping in protest for the anguish the other half must
eternally push it through.

My fingers wrapped around the dagger’s hilt, a fine
leather-wrapped handle that fit snug as a tailor’s tuck in
my hand. I slid free of the wolf’s snapping jaws and
staggered to my feet. Blood soaked what was left of my
shirt and suit coat. I had knocked over Helena’s reading
table, shattering a lamp, which had soaked her books with
whale oil. My sitting room was in shambles—and for the
first time since I had crossed its threshold I could finally
relax.
This
was my territory. Roldan must pay the price for
crossing its boundaries.

He charged me again. I looked into his fiery yellow
eyes. And laughed. When he leaped, I spun, shoving the
dagger deep into his side. It was not a killing blow, nor did
I mean it to be. Silver takes Weres slowly, painfully. That
was how I wanted Roldan to die. That was how the men
who hurt my children would always go.

I hauled him up by the scruff of his neck, dragged him
to the front doorway, and threw him into the street, my
dagger still hilt-deep in his flank. My satisfaction at seeing
him tumble into the gutter where he would die like a
beggar snapped as a shot rang out from inside the house.

I spun, running so quickly to the study that the wind of
my passage blew the window draperies midway up the
parlor wall. Parts of the shattered door cracked beneath
my feet as I swept into the room, one glance telling me all
that I needed to know. A Were lay dead on the floor, his
features already melting back to human. Another, still in
his man’s form, had dealt Helena such a bruising blow
that she lay unconscious over his shoulder. He could take
her through the window, but we both knew how badly the
shattered glass would cut her.

He stared at me from the center of the room,
surrounded by thrown papers and the items that the
gentleman who had built the home felt he needed for his
comfort. A tall, hickory desk full of cubbyholes and
drawers. Two ladder-back chairs to sit on either side of it.

A chaise on which Helena occasionally lounged, regaling
me with stories of her tutors (less often their amazing
revelations regarding history or mathematics than how
she tricked them into spending entire afternoons roaming
the park, listing the names of flora and fauna she had
known since her toddling days). Beside it, a table holding
a vase full of flowers she had picked from the garden only
that morning, and two half-burned tapers held aloft by
matching silver candlesticks.

“Put her down,” I ordered.

He hesitated, staring toward the door as if measuring
his chances of escaping me with Helena weighing him
down.

“Make me a deal first.” He spoke with a broad cockney
accent, tossing the limp patch of hair blocking his sight
out of his way as he spoke. I smelled the greasy
sweetness of his unkempt locks from across the room,
and my stomach turned that Helena should have to bear
his touch.

“What?” I snapped.

“My freedom for her neck.”

I inclined my head. “Done.”

The Were deposited Helena on the chaise and
moved toward the door. My next question made him
hesitate with his hand on the latch. “I must ask. Why would
you take the word of a vampire?”

He glanced back at me. “Aw, now, yer being modest.

Yer not just any vamp. All hoity-toity, living in this house
here, surrounded by humans. Kinda like a Trust, as it
were,” he said, his grin revealing an overabundance of
brown teeth dominated by sharp, yellow incisors. “Which
means yer Vampere. Which means you put a whole lotta
store in contracts.”

“I am impressed at your knowledge of the inner
workings of the Trust. And yet you have somehow
managed to miss the most important rule.”

“What’s that?”

“That Trust members must be protected at any cost.

Even if that means breaking a solemn vow.” Before the
scoundrel could do more than widen his eyes, I strode
forward and seized him by the throat. At the same
moment a short but immensely broad-shouldered olive-skinned man burst through the door. He brandished a
sword, while the white-aproned woman behind him held an
iron skillet aloft with both hands.

“Berggia, does that weapon contain any silver?” I
asked.

“Not that I know of, sir.”

“Did that monster hurt my baby?” asked the woman.

Her hips were even broader than the man’s shoulders.

“I am afraid so, Madame Berggia. Unfortunately, he

—” But that was enough for her. She swung her frying pan
down over her husband’s shoulder and smashed it into
the Were’s head. He fell limp in my hands.

“That’ll teach ’im,” she announced. Dropping the pan
on the floor, she rushed to the chaise to tend to Helena.

“Call the bobbies,” I told Berggia. “We shall treat this
as a human matter. Which means we must first remove
the wolf that lies in the gutter outside the door.”

“Excuse me, sir, but they came and took it away
already.”

“You saw?”

“Yes. That was what sent me and the wife running
inside from the errand you sent us on.” I did not bother to
tell him that the chore had been a ruse of the wolves to
remove them from the premises. I could tell from the
haunted look in his eyes that his story would not bear
interruption. He said, “It was strange enough that two
people were loading a bleeding wolf into a carriage. But
even more bizarre that one of them, well, seems like I saw
the same lady during the war. She was a’leaning over one
of the dying chaps. And after it was over, they both stood
up and walked away.”

“How did you recognize her again?” I asked, a ring of
ice encasing my heart. Berggia, who had never stepped
away from a task in all the years I had known him,
blanched. “Come, now, man. I must know.”

“Hu… her dress belt looked like it were made from
snakes. Like living, moving ones that intertwined at the
clasp. And this gel had the selfsame belt on.” And now,
surely, my heart had stopped altogether. For Berggia
must have witnessed one of the cubs of Medusa herself.

“What was it, sir? What did I see?”

I strode to the desk and began pulling out papers.

Though I could not read their contents, their seals told me
enough. Only the ones most vital to our travels would be
packed. The others must stay to make it look as if we
meant to return. Because the Berggias had to understand
our plight, I said, “That werewolf wanted Helena for his
own. He is obsessed with her. And now he is in the hands
of a Gorgon.” I tried to speak as clearly as I could despite
the necessity for speed and my growing fear for my
daughter. “Gorgons can eat death.”

I waited for the Berggias to recover from the initial
shock. They had seen enough in their time with me that it
did not take long. I continued. “I will not describe to you
the nature of this consumption. It is”—I looked up to find
them both staring at me from pale, still faces—“quite
ghastly. But you must understand that once Roldan—the
wolf—agrees to the Gorgon’s terms, he will become
beholden.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Madame
Berggia. She had maneuvered Helena’s head onto her
prodigious lap, and was now smoothing back her shining
brown hair.

I had emptied the drawers and now moved to the safe
that was hidden behind a series of books on the occult.

Turning my back to them
(Not because it is difficult to face the fearful eyes of those completely dependent on me, I whispered to myself)
I said, “The Gorgon will return when
Roldan’s life has run its natural course. And every night
thereafter she will eat Roldan’s death until the Were’s soul
shatters.” I heard Madame Berggia gasp, but did not turn
around. Reaching into the safe, I pulled out all of my
earthly goods.

“How long do you suppose that will take?” asked my
valet.

I deposited the small trunk in which I kept my cash
and valuables onto the desk. “It depends on the wolf. But I
doubt that Helena will survive him. So we must take her
out of the country. And we must leave tonight.” Opening
the trunk, I began to load it with papers.

Berggia said, “What do you want us to do?”

“Take Helena upstairs and tend to her. I wish we had
time to call a surgeon around, but we must trust that she
will wake soon and make a complete recovery. While she
sleeps, pack as if we are simply taking a short trip. But
take everything we cannot do without. I shall go and book
tickets on the first steamer out of port.” (And then we will
board the second. Perhaps that will throw Roldan off long
enough for me to devise a better plan.)
Sharp pain, beginning at my neck and shooting around to my spine, ending at the backs of my knees. Which had begun a fine tremble. I felt Vayl’s former reality melt away and reached out for it, as if I could give it enough support to find out what happened to Helena. “No, no,” I heard myself murmur. “Where’d she go?”