“So, if you're an elite Hunter, why do your men still have their weapons trained on us?” Winn asked, his tone distinctly more adversarial.
“We have commandeered Castle Barranoch and will be incarcerating the Lady Drossenburg along with her minions until such time as we receive the piece of the Book of Legend the vampires have been withholding from Her Majesty.”
“Ain't you a little out of your jurisdiction?”
“Mr. Jackson, the British Empire spans the globe. My jurisdiction is wherever Her Majesty wishes it to be.” He motioned to his men with a flick of his hand. “Seize them.”
With weapons still drawn, Frobisher's men advanced, grabbing hold of Alexa. Incensed by the audacity of Frobisher, she tried wresting her arm from the burly guards who grabbed her, but found two of them were stronger than she was, which shocked her. Their gloves had to be lined or woven with silver. Another guard held a gun to Winchester's head as two more stripped him of his weapons and forced his hands atop his head.
“Not exactly the kind of reception one Hunter expects from another,” Winn muttered darkly.
“But then you're not a Hunter, are you, Mr. Jackson? You're a Slayer.”
Alexa's fangs throbbed, aching to be released out of anger, but she forcibly calmed herself and focused her simmering rage on Frobisher. “Where is your honor, sir? We have a treaty, and it expressly forbids taking political prisoners.”
As a unit they began to march toward the castle, through the wheat field, the burgeoning dawn now turning the bowl of the sky a delft blue. Frobisher didn't even face her as he spoke. “There is nothing personal in this. I am simply following orders.”
Winn grunted. “Well, you see, that's the difference between you Hunters in your fancy uniforms and us frontier types. We don't follow orders blindly 'cause we've got minds of our own.”
Frobisher's shoulders tensed slightly, but he didn't acknowledge Winchester's slight. “Unlike your American Slayer, slavering at your heels like a trained dog, I do not jump just because a vampire noble speaks.”
Years of tactical and political negotiation skills surged forward, suppressing Alexa's anger and making her more focused. Now was not the time to lose composure. “What are your plans for us, Mr. Frobisher?” she asked as they stepped from the wheat fields onto the dirt road leading to the castle. It loomed large ahead of them, the overlapping stones looking like the scales of a great sleeping dragon in the growing light.
“You are to be held with the others, until such time as His Royal Imperial Highness Vladimir the Fifth returns the Book.”
His words pierced her calm façade, making it hard to think. “Others?” she asked as nonchalantly as she could.
“Your minions are caged and awaiting us within the castle.”
Caged? Like animals? That explained why she couldn't reach Enric, Count Vernay, or any of the others. If Frobisher had locked them into metal coffins, they would not be able to hear her or communicate amongst themselves. It was a monstrous thing to do to a vampire.
Winn's eyes blazed with red-hot fury, and the line of his jaw jumped as he ground his teeth. She tried to throw him a quelling glare and attempted to reach him with her mind.
I have this under control. Please do not make it any worse.
Me? How am I gonna make it worse? They've taken us prisoner and snatched every weapon I've got,
he shot back, not even aware that he was communicating with her, a sign that he'd let down his guard with her. Alexa shook off her surprise and returned her gaze to Frobisher's broad back.
Morning sunlight peeked over the mountains on the horizon, turning the sky golden with streaks of pale orange and casting the wet fields on either side of the road in shimmering green. Had she not spent the night running from werewolves, being attacked and nearly drowned by a
Sidhe
soldier, and now captured by the most unprincipled of Her Majesty's Hunters, it would have been a stunning end to her day. As it was she was surrounded on all sides by well-armed English Hunters, Winchester was weaponless, and she had a very strong desire to plunge a dagger into Frobisher's back at the first opportunity.
“As the ambassador of His Imperial Majesty and a Hunter, can we expect better or similar treatment to that given my minions?” she said with as little emotion as possible.
Frobisher huffed. “As a vampire and a Slayer you're lucky I haven't already knocked you unconscious and dragged you back to the castle.”
“You ain't as smart as you think you are.” The mocking edge of Winn's tone suggested that even with his hands on his head he didn't fear Frobisher. He was either a supreme fool or knew exactly the kind of man he was dealing with and didn't give a damn. Considering he'd been a Western lawman, Alexa was betting on the latter rather than the former, but either way agitating the man was counterproductive to her own civil negotiations.
“You hear me, Frobisher? Holding us ain't gonna get you nothing,” Winn called out.
Frobisher's shoulders and neck tensed, but he didn't turn to acknowledge Winchester; he just kept their little party steadily marching forward to Castle Barranoch.
“'Course, you want to sit on that lily-white ass of yours and not do nothing about getting the Book back from those furries, that's your choice,” Winn muttered loud enough for Frobisher and his men to hear. “But if you was an American Hunter, we'd say it was just 'cause you didn't still have the balls your mama gave you.”
That ticked Frobisher off. He whipped around and slammed a fist into Winn's jaw that snapped Winn's head sideways and sent him stumbling back a step into the men behind him. Frobisher's men pushed Winn forward to meet their commander.
Winn rubbed his jaw with his hand, but what Alexa saw in his eyes scared her far more than Frobisher's puffed-up chest and raised chin. Frobisher might not know it, but he had just unlatched the lid on Pandora's box. She suspected that while an honorable man, Winchester Jackson was not opposed to fighting dirty when the situation demanded it.
Winn's eyes sparked with challenge, the tension between the two men charging the air with enough energy that Alexa could feel the crackle of it raising the small, downy hairs on her skin. “You hit me because you're too temperamental to take an insult like a man or 'cause the truth hurts?”
Frobisher drew himself up. “We know the werewolves no longer have it. Tell me where the bloody Book is.” He said it with such deadly calm it chilled Alexa to the marrow of her bones. Then everything happened too fast.
With a loud click, a blade snapped from beneath the cuff of Frobisher's sleeve into his hand. She was unprepared when he snatched her, throwing her off balance so that she fell heavily against him, the edge of the blade against her throat. “And perhaps I'll let your vampire live.”
Two things filtered into Alexa's stunned mind. First, Frobisher was truly an idiot if he thought she couldn't protect herself; second, Winchester hesitated. His gaze flicked to hers, and in those eyes she glimpsed a tortured man. Something about this situation touched more than a nerve in him; it raked across a scar that marred his soul. His jaw worked as if he were chewing over his words carefully before he spoke.
“We don't have the Book. The gypsies have taken it. All we have is clues,” he said slowly. “You let her go, I'll give the Book to you once we use it to close the Gates of Nyx.”
Alexa gasped in outrage. He'd promised to return the Book to Vladimir. Winchester's gaze connected with hers.
Trust me.
The sound of his voice in her head kept her silent. The edge of the blade came away from her skin, but stayed less than an inch from her neck.
“You'll give it to me once you obtain it, because Her Majesty will be the one to close those Gates, Slayer. Not the lowly likes of you.”
“But he's part of the Chosen,” Alexa said, her voice resolute.
Frobisher growled, shaking her, his spittle hitting her skin. “Why, because your precious vampire prophecy said so? I can't imagine a less worthy choice. If anyone is going to receive the honor of closing those gates, it should be someone of royal blood with the right to rule.”
Winn didn't even flinch at the insult; he just kept his gaze level and steady and ignored the weapons trained on them both. “Let us go, and I can get you what you want.”
Chapter 18
Lieutenant William Wallace Frobisher smiled. If one could call the sneer that curled his mouth into a grotesque approximation of satisfaction a smile. It was made more sinister by the fact that tinted goggles he never seemed to remove obscured his eyes, making it impossible to see if the humor reached them or was merely a social convenience.
“You will go and get the Book for me. Excellent choice,” the lieutenant said as he withdrew the knife from Alexa's throat and touched a button at his wrist to retract the blade. It slid silently back into its hidden sheath beneath the edge of his red coat sleeve.
Alexa spun away from him, moving close to Winn's side. Despite her proximity, and the withdrawal of the blade, his heart was still beating hard beneath his damp clothing. The sight of the blade pressing a firm line against the smooth column of Alexa's neck had jellied his mind and set his pulse to galloping. He had offered up the first thing that had come to mind.
Ironic, really, that Frobisher's lack of faith in the prophecy of the Chosen only increased Winn's own. Her Majesty might think she should be the one to close the Gates, but no little old grandmother, queen or not, was up to facing Rathe and his Darkin horde. She had to be smarter and far more reasonable than Frobisher. When the time came, he'd deliver Marley's message and talk to her about his plans for the Book.
They stood in the morning shadow of the castle. It stretched over the road, beyond the bailey walls and over the moat bridge like dark tenacious fingers.
“Where is the Book?” Frobisher asked as he motioned for his men to stand down with a wave of his hand and a nod.
“First I want the assurance that you will release my minions,” Alexa said bluntly, her hands clasped before her. Despite the dirt and disheveled hair, Alexa exuded regal command, her shoulders tilted back, her spine straight. The glint in her eye indicated that like the dark gray stone castle looming before them, she would not be moved.
Morning light gilded the dew-drenched wheat fields around the road to the castle. Mists rose as the sunlight warmed the earth, but it did nothing to alleviate the perceptible chill between Frobisher and Alexa.
Winn had to admire her gumption. She was no simpering female. The Lady Alexandra had more guts than many of the Hunters he'd fought side by side with over the years. Even when threatened, she'd remained cool, calm, and collected. His estimation of her increased exponentially.
“Very well. They shall be released ... as soon as you return with the Book.”
Her eyes flashed golden fire. It had become a game of chess, each waiting to see who would call “checkmate” first.
“My patience grows thin, Contessa,” Frobisher said as he caressed the handle of the sword sheathed at his side. “I repeat. Where is the Book?”
Tessa lifted her chin defiantly, and Winn thought she'd never looked more beautiful. Not a vampire, but an avenging angel haloed by the rays of the sun. “Paris,” she said simply.
Frobisher tapped his sword. “A group of my men will be happy to accompany you. I shall even provide you a coach.” He made eye contact with three of the burly and most hardened-looking of his scarlet-coated guard. “You three ready a carriage and two horses. Simpson, you'll drive. Hard-grieve and Wexler, you'll ride guard.” The three broke off from the main group and walked toward the castle's high, arched-stone gate, the points of the portcullis making it look like a wide open maw with dark, pointed teeth.
“And my weapons?” Winn pressed. He wasn't about to see his pa's rifle disappear into the hands of these Hunters.
Frobisher's jaw ticked once, twice, three times before he spoke. “Of course.” He nodded, and his men returned Winn's rifle, his bowie knife, and his pistol. Just having them back made him feel more secure, but he missed Marley's Amanarath that had slipped beneath the waters of the river with the
Sidhe
.
“Come. The sooner you leave, the sooner you can recover the Book and put it in proper hands.” Frobisher turned on his heel, his highly polished knee-high boots thumping loudly as he strode with confidence across the planks of the drawbridge. He disappeared beneath the great stone arch that led into Castle Barranoch's bailey.
His fifteen other men marched alongside them as they crossed over the drawbridge and into the grounds of the castle. Winn looked over the edge of the drawbridge. The water in the moat looked slate gray in the morning light and was probably as cold as the chill still in the air.
They crossed beneath the arched entry into the bailey. Winn estimated the walls around the castle had to be fifteen feet thick. Outside the vampire emperor's castle, Winn had never been in a place so damn big made from so much stone. Just by the look of it, he could tell the castle had withstood the ravages of war and time, for the stones had been worn smooth beneath his feet. The age of it permeated the very air with the weight of its history.
“How old is this place?” he murmured to Alexa as she walked beside him.
“About seven hundred years, give or take.”
Winn whistled long and low. Hell, these stones had been there before Leonardo da Vinci had invented the first Hunter weapons, back as far as the damn Romans. It could certainly make a man whose country had barely one hundred years under its belt feel a bit insecure. He could suddenly understand Frobisher's haughtiness a mite better. One didn't grow up hanging out around this stuff without a little pride rubbing off. But it didn't impress Winn enough to make him like Frobisher. He doubted anything could. The man was nearly as arrogant as regular vampires, and deep down it irritated him, like a cat getting its fur rubbed up the wrong way.
Inside the castle there were twenty iron caskets lined up in row upon row. Alexa gasped. She could hear the scraping of nails against the metal, the rasping of words, even though she couldn't make them out. She whirled on Frobisher. “How dare you, sir! This is no better than torture and you know it.”
His lips twitched. “They all seemed willing enough when they found out it was this or risk losing you.”
Alexa winced. The fact that they would sacrifice themselves for her, when she was so very willing to leave them all for Winn, struck her deeply.
“My lady, do not let this Hunter cause you guilt,” said a deep, rasping voice from the dim recesses of the hall. A small blue light pierced through the darkness. Alexa stepped closer, Winn following a step behind. There, pinned by six huge magnets against the stone wall, she found her longtime friend and ally Count Vernay suspended a foot off the ground.
His damaged body had long ago been partially replaced by mechanical construct. He was part vampire, part machine, and all loyal. But it was these metallic body parts that held him immobile against the forces of the magnets. The lens of his one mechanical eye closed tighter, the metal iris flexing over the blue glow.
“Count!” She rushed to him, placing her hand against the skin of his cheek. The flesh half of his mouth smiled, while his metallic half of a jaw and lips stayed firmly in place.
“Have you been harmed?”
He let out a great, brittle guffaw. “These pathetic excuses for Hunters could hardly harm me more than was done back in 1812.” His clothing was rumpled and stained, nothing like the way she'd last seen him.
Alexa knew he referred to the unfortunate battle that had changed him. “And the others?”
Vernay's bushy dark brows pinched together in the center of his balding head. “The Hunters seem bent on destroying them if their demands are not met. I tried to warn you, but by the time your crew arrived, it was too late.”
Alexa nodded. “I am sorry to have failed you.”
Vernay looked at Winn. “Is this the Chosen?”
“Winchester Jackson, sir,” Winchester said with a quick nod of his head and a tug on the brim of his Stetson.
Vernay flexed a beefy hand. “As you can see I'm in no condition to welcome you properly to Castle Barranoch, but you are welcome nonetheless.”
“Clearly that ain't your fault,” Winn muttered in reply, throwing a glare in Frobisher's direction.
Alexa's throat swelled shut. She hated to think that she had anything to do with what her friends and children by gift suffered. “What can we do?” she asked, her voice tight.
She glanced at Winn. He slipped his much larger hand over hers.
“Don't you worry. We're going to find that missing piece. And when we do, we'll make sure they get freed. I promise,” Winn said.
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An hour and a fresh change of clothes later, Alexa and Winn were in a fancy carriage bound for Paris. The roads were narrow, rutted, and muddy, making Alexa bump against him as they rode over the worst patches. That he didn't mind so much. The feel of her soft feminine form was distracting but pleasant. And it had the added benefit of taking the edge off his building irritation with Frobisher's men, who rode on either side of the carriage, as an armed escort.
Winn slouched down in the well-padded leather seat. “Don't know what the hell Frobisher thought he needed them for. He damn well locked the doors when we climbed in. We ain't passengers. We're prisoners.”
Alexa shrugged. “Prisoners. Passengers. It's all semantics as long as we get where we're going.”
He focused on her feminine profile. The end of her nose tipped up slightly, and her full lips were dusky mauve.
Winn tried to ignore the stirring she caused in his blood and focused instead on thinking his question very hard in hopes she'd be able to hear him.
What do we do once we get there?
She snapped around and stared at him, the dark curls about her temples swinging with the movement.
Are you talking to me on purpose?
'Course I am. Why would I waste an advantage over those herders?
He glanced briefly out the window.
It's just that ...
What?
Well, communication like this is usually a very personal thing done only with those you trust, even among vampires.
Winn said nothing. He'd let her draw her own conclusions. Fact was, Darkin or not, she'd proven herself more reliable than half the men he'd worked with and a damn sight more concerned with his survival than anyone else on this continent.
So what's the plan when we get there?
he asked again.
Her eyes narrowed.
I don't know. But one thing is certain. We'll have to evade these Hunters or they will take the Book back to Frobisher before you can use it to close the Gates of Nyx.
Well, that damn sure ain't gonna happen. If anybody is going to hand off the Book to the queen, it'd be me. And granny ain't getting it until I'm done with it.
But you told Frobisherâ
I told him what he wanted to hear to get us the hell out of there.
What about my people?
We'll find a way to get them out. One way or another.
Gradually, their guards relaxed, moving farther ahead to talk to the driver. They passed little hamlets; the whitewashed houses with thick thatched roofs had smoke curling out of chimneys. The fields were either the dark brown of newly turned earth or the achingly bright green of new shoots. Occasionally there were groups of woolly sheep with long tails, moving randomly about like puffs of clouds, and rows and rows of vineyards that made the rolling land look like it was a woven tapestry. Unlike a train, they were going slowly enough for him to take it all in.
“It's kind of pretty out here,” Winn murmured, trying hard to take his mind off of how sore he was getting, cooped up in a carriage with no room to stretch out his legs. “Don't look nothing like Bodie. Don't look nothing like Missouri, either.”
The contessa turned and looked at him, her eyes soft. In the confines of the carriage the jasmine scent of her filled the space, making every breath he took laced with a taste of her. “Is that where you were born?”
Winn nodded. “Hell of a lot flatter than this place.” He paused for a moment, his drive to know everything about her picking away at his brain. “What about you? Were you born in Transylvania?”
“No. Krakow, when it was part of the Russian Empire. It is a very large city. And flat too.” She smiled at him and glanced out the window. “Your home in the American wilderness is beautiful too, just different than this place.”
“I thought vampires didn't like sunshine.”
She locked gazes with him. “Nor are we famed for our love of open spaces, but then I'm a bit different from the other vampires at court. I've never quite blended in.”
Winn's large hand swallowed up hers, and he gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze. “You ain't the only one who feels out of place, Tessa.”
“Well, here perhaps.”