Shadow of the Vampire (14 page)

         
Oh, gods. The blackness pulsing around Declan became nearly impossible to resist as Lotharus's dark words sunk in.

         
"You will stay here and keep working on finding me that stone." Again the sound of keys rattling against one another echoed in the darkness, followed by steps leading away from his cell.

         
"What if the dragon doesn't talk? What if I cannot break him?"

         
Lotharus's heavy footfalls quit thumping against the ground, vibrating the earth beneath Declan's ear. "If he doesn't divulge the crystal's location by dawn, he'll have outlived his usefulness. Kill him."

         
"Yes, sir."

         
"Oh, and Ivan," Lotharus said, "when you dispose of the beast, be sure to leave his body intact. I shall like to feast on dragon blood on my wedding day."

         
Declan finally let the darkness swallow him.

         
THE CHOCOLATE-COLORED satin-and-chiffon gown fell in slippery waves over Alexia's skin. Only the bodice hugged her tight. Still too long by a yard at least, the dress pooled over her toes and onto the floor of her mother's chamber. Strips of the soft fabric gathered at her shoulders, falling down her back in two parallel ribbons.

         
"What do you think of the brown? Do you like it?"

         
Alexia had to bite her tongue to keep from telling her mother to hell with the dress and inform her of what had happened on the cliffs instead. But she had to approach this carefully. She looked down to see the seamstress, Marguerite, her head bowed in concentration as she worked on the hemline. Alexia couldn't voice her opinion with a colony dweller in the room. If her suspicions about Lotharus leaked around the compound, he might get impulsive and do something rash.

         
"I'd prefer black," she finally replied.

         
The Queen fiddled with a swatch of cloth before tossing the square back in the basket. "I'm sure you would," she said, lifting her fingers to massage her temples. "It seems to be the only color you wear nowadays."

         
Alexia frowned, about to ask her mother if she was feeling all right, when the seamstress stood.

         
"My Queen," she said, "I'm sorry, but I need more pins."

         
Catija pursed her lips, making sure her displeasure was known, before giving the girl a flippant wave. "All right, go on and get them."

         
Seeing an opportunity to speak freely at last, Alexia's pulse quickened. She followed the woman's departure from the room out of the corner of her eye. The instant the door clicked shut she stepped down from the small podium. The Queen looked up, surprise on her face.

         
"Alexia, what are you doing? Get back up there."

         
"I have to tell you something."

         
"But you'll ruin the dress."

         
"Screw the dress, mother! Listen to me," she said, dropping to her knees before her. "We must let that dragon lord go. Now."

         
Dark eyes gazed down at her, unfixed, unfocused. "What?"

         
Alexia pointed toward the sea. "His people are out there, looking for him. Right now, at the back stairs."

         
The Queen's eyes narrowed in thought. "Whose people?"

         
"Whose people...?" Alexia's words trailed off. She grabbed Catija's frail hands and squeezed. "The dragon, mother. The King and Queen's son. Remember?"

         
"King and Queen," Catija repeated in a low murmur. Her gaze distant, focused far away. Then she yanked her hands free and stood. "They were burned." Her eyes wide and frantic, she twined her fingers together and hustled toward the door.

         
"Mother, where are you going?" Alexia asked, lifting the overlong fabric of the dress and following after her.

         
"I burned them myself, I swear it," Catija called over her shoulder.

         
"Not them. Their son. Our prisoner."

         
"I knew I shouldn't have done it," Catija mumbled as she descended the small stairs and began to wind her way through the path to the gardens. "But the Goddess Diana spoke to me. She's so lovely, so much like your grandmother. Do you remember her?"

         
"Of course." Alexia struggled to keep up, both with her ramblings and her quick pace. Unease and worry filled her heart with each step she took into the garden.

         
The Queen stopped at the water's edge. "She said they had to fly over the mountain, across the river and beyond the sea. See?" she asked, pointing to the farthest end of the fountain, to where the submerged model city of Davna Vremena lay shrouded in water. "Far away, where she couldn't touch them."

         
"She?" Alexia's stare moved from the small pond to the Queen and then back again. What did the auld lands her grandmother used to tell stories about have to do with Declan or his parents? "Mother, what are you talking about? You and Lotharus killed the dragons."

         
Catija spun around, her cold hands gripping Alexia's arms. "Daughter, listen to me. There is another part of the prophecy. One Lotharus does not know of. The torn part of the scroll," she whispered fiercely. "The crystal is the key, but he cannot be the one to open the door."

         
"Door?" Alexia struggled to understand, fought to piece together her mother's cryptic words. However, the Queen didn't stop to explain. She only squeezed her tighter, drawing her closer until her mother's eyes were all she could see. Clear and lucid, they bore into Alexia's.

         
"You must see them all cared for. You must see he lives."

         
"Who?" Alexia asked. Although she suspected that deep down she already knew.

         
"What is going on?"

         
Catija blinked at the sound of Lotharus's voice. Although Alexia heard his question, heard the rustle of leaves announcing his approach behind them, she didn't take her eyes off her mother. Something was wrong. Something she couldn't place.

         
"What about the torn scroll?" The Queen let go of her and turned back toward the fountain.

         
"That is enough," Lotharus's voice called from behind her. Alexia ignored him.

         
"Mother, what about the King and Queen?"

         
"I said, enough!"

         
Firm hands fisted her shoulders and yanked her back against Lotharus's front. Alexia winced as he tightened his grip and bent his head to her ear. "Do stop with your questions now, Alexia," he spit. Slowly, his hands encircled her throat. His fingertips danced around her neck in circles, light at first and then with more force, gripping tighter until she wondered if he was going to choke her.

         
"You don't want to worry your dear, sick mother. One wonders in her fragile state if she would recover."

         
The threat had her hackles rising. "What are you doing here?" she asked over her shoulder.

         
The hands on her neck stilled before falling away. He stepped around her and walked to the Queen's side. "I was going below to take care of our little...problem."

         
Declan, her mind screamed.

         
"You must see he lives."

         
Alexia's heart thudded.

         
"But when I heard voices, I decided to come and see what you were up to. Is everything all right?"

         
Alexia looked from her mother to Lotharus. She knew what she had to do and, for the first time, she found the courage to do it. "No, it's not." Alexia took a deep breath and raised her chin. "I'm going to summon the colony founders and petition for my succession to the throne a day early."

         
Although his features remained calm, the muscles of his jaw twitched. "Pardon?"

         
"In addition, I am going to request your removal as chief advisor and have my mother secluded in the samostan until she recovers from whatever madness you've set upon her."

         
Lotharus's eyes blazed and he stepped forward. "You think to send her to the women's temple," he scoffed. "You foolish girl, who do you think you are?"

         
For the first time, she felt a surge of power rush through her instead of fear. "I am the Queen of this horde. And you are nothing." With that, she gently touched her mother's shoulder. Dazed, the Queen turned, a glassy smile in her eyes. "Come, mother. Let's get you back to bed."

         
"Oh, Alexia, your dress." The Queen pointed to the sodden and wet hem. "What are we doing out here? Marguerite--" Her eyes searched the gardens for the seamstress. "We must have her fix this."

         
"Shh." Alexia patted her mother's hand and guided her down the path. "I'll make sure it's taken care of."

         
They had not managed two steps before Lotharus called after her.

         
"Do not think this is over, Alexia."

         
An icy chill swept up her back, but she shook it off and glanced over her shoulder at him. The malice and anger in his black eyes had a bubble of panic rising in her throat. She swallowed it down.

         
"And do not think you've won. For that crown you covet may just slip down and choke you one day."

CHAPTER NINE

         
THE FAINT SOUND OF METAL twisting and creaking sounded in the room. Declan expected to see that soldier, Ivan, sharpening his instruments of torture when he awoke. So, when he tried to open his eyes and quickly lost the struggle, he didn't mind. He didn't need to see what was coming next.

         
So weak, so tired.

         
Those words bounced in his brain, lulling him back to sleep. Then the scraping grew louder, more insistent, and again he tried to wedge his eyes wide. This time, they obeyed. He lay on his side in the dirt, facing the bars of his cell. But instead of Ivan on the other side of the rusty iron, the little vampire stood at the door. Her blond head bent over the thick padlock, her eyes intent.

         
"Alexia?" His throat burned, raw and dry, making his voice crack. The faint taste of metal lingered on his tongue and scented his skin as his body secreted the liquid silver.

         
Flattening a palm on the floor, he pushed himself to sit up, hissing in a breath at the pain radiating along his side. He shoved to his knees and then to his feet, using the bars for leverage as he pulled himself up.

         
"What...are you...doing here?"

         
A low breath puffed out of her and she dropped the still-fastened padlock. "I'm trying to get you out of here."

         
His chest tightened. "Why?"

         
Shaking her head, she ran a hand over her eyes before digging into her back pocket for something. For the first time he saw how exhausted she looked. "Declan, listen to me. There is a way out of here. One you must take."

         
"What makes you think I would take an easy way out of this?"

         
"I never said it would be easy," she replied. "I said it would be a way out."

         
His gaze fell to her hands, fidgeting to unwrap a folded document. Although he tried not to, he couldn't help but notice they shook.

         
"Here." He snapped his attention to her index finger. She pointed to a map of the dungeon. To a space in the back of the cavernous room he'd never seen. "There is a gap, a hole back here you can climb out of. Although the cliff is a sheer drop-off and it would be madness for one of us to try it, you can fly once you're outside."

         
He wanted to tell her there was no way he was flying anywhere. The collar, the torture and not feeding for two days had weakened him to the point it had become nearly impossible to stand and hold a conversation, much less shift and fly for miles back to the mountain. In fact, the thought of climbing through some bloody catacomb to even get outside was unbearable. However, when he looked into her midnight eyes, he could only think of one thing to say. One thing to ask her. "Why are you doing this?"

         
A slight flush splashed her cheekbones and her gaze dipped to her toes. "I--I..." she stammered. And then her shoulders fell, almost indecipherably, but he noticed.

         
"I don't know what else to do."