Death's Mistress

“She hasn’t done anything like that since,” Louis-Cesare said quickly, seeing the dawning horror in my eyes. “I kept watch over her, and she is easily enough restrained. Her power is minimal; she is only a danger to humans and she is not allowed—”

“Minimal?” Anthony coughed, a harsh, wet sound. “She’s a goddamned first-level master. I should know!”

Christine casually put a delicate little patent leather shoe through his chest. I heard ribs crunch, and he cursed. “You do not wish to kill him, Christine. Remember?” Louis-Cesare said sharply.

“Oh. Oh, yes. I’m sorry.” She meekly withdrew the foot, leaving Anthony writhing on the floor.

I stood there, feeling dizzy. “She’s a revenant,” I said numbly. Louis-Cesare didn’t confirm it, but he didn’t deny it either. He just stared at me, his face blank and pale like that of a man about to face the gallows.

Or like a man who had sired a monster.

It didn’t happen often, but occasionally a young master would feed off the same person too many times in close succession, thereby passing on the metaphysical virus that was at the core of vampirism. But because the feedings weren’t intended to be a Change, the master’s blood wasn’t also shared with the child. And thereby the link that power created was missing.

Revenants also occurred when something went wrong with the Change, either because of a mistake on the master’s part or because of a problem with the subject selected—generally illness or age. If the subject was weak, the link formed was as well, and never provided the control needed to steer the new vampire’s development.

However they were created, the newborn revenant was a problem from the start. They craved that co

Occasionally, one would survive for a few months, maybe as long as a year if he was in a relatively isolated place, like a mountain range with plenty of hiding places. But I’d never heard of one lasting longer than that. Certainly not long enough to rise in power. It had never even occurred to me—or to anyone I suspected—that a revenant could rise in power.

I guess the assumption always was that they were flawed mentally, so they must be flawed physically as well. And that was often true. The pale, hunchbacked, salivating vamp of legend, with fangs too large for his mouth and an unquenchable lust for blood, possibly came from sightings of revenants.

But what if one did live, because she had a powerful protector? A protector so ridden with guilt that he couldn’t bear to follow the law and have her destroyed? And what if that revenant was highly functioning, enough so that, with careful supervision, she would appear merely eccentric rather than mad? And what if this farce had continued for three hundred years?

What could a first- level master revenant do? Other than manage to camouflage her abilities, even from her own maker. Who, after all, hadn’t seen her for more than a century.

I glanced at Anthony. I guess I knew.

“She is not… She does not have to be a danger,” Louis-Cesare said desperately. “She can be—”

“She’s a fucking revenant,” Anthony coughed. “She’s a danger to everyone—you know this! Why the hell didn’t you have her put down when you realized it?”

“How could I? I had already killed her twice! First when I handed her over to that bastard of a mage, and then when I made her into a vampire. How many times am I supposed to kill this one poor woman? How much damage am I to do?”

I didn’t think that was the question. I thought it was: how much could he do? Like human children, baby vamps tended to take attributes from their sire. So much so that family lines often became known for having certain gifts. Mircea’s, for instance, was better than normal with healing, both themselves and others. Louis-Cesare had gained that advantage from Radu, but when he became a master, it was his own special gifts and interests that were passed to his children.

And, as everyone knew, his strongest ability was in combat.

CHAPTER 37

I watched as red lightning started to flicker across Christine’s palms and to coil up her arms. I didn’t think she liked being talked about as if she wasn’t in the room. I didn’t think she liked being given orders, either. She kept glancing at Anthony, and the hunger on her face was startling.

Anthony didn’t notice, having let his head droop down to his mutilated chest. I couldn’t tell if that was deliberate—to hide the fact that his neck had healed—or if he was merely too tired to hold it up anymore. But looking at the way his skin was starting to shrink up against the bones, I was voting for the latter.

Anthony had to get out of here and back to his family, and he had to do it now. But no way was he managing that on his own. I glanced at Louis- Cesare to see if he got it, and found him staring intently back at me.

“Dorina?”

I almost jumped out of my skin when the word echoed softly through my brain. “What?” I thought back instinctively, and felt a surge of profound relief that I knew wasn’t mine. I didn’t feel relieved. I felt creeped the hell out.“How long have you been able to—”

“Can you do it?” he asked silently, cutting me off in my own head.

“Can I do what?”

He looked pointedly at Anthony. “I will not leave you here with her.”

“You left me with her last night!”

“It was almost dawn, and I thought she had the power of a child then. You ca

No, I thought bitterly, I didn’t suppose so. I’d been getting my ass handed to me by vampires all day, and after seeing her with Anthony, I doubted this would be any different. But I also couldn’t drag an almost-deadweight through the landslide, across a debris- filled room and up a lengthy tu

I thought that at him as hard as I could, and saw him wince. It had probably had the force of a shout behind it, but I didn’t have centuries of practice at this. The only other times we’d had any kind of mental link, I’d been too distracted to worry about it.

I was plenty worried now, but other things took precedence. Like what I’d die of first, if Anthony went—the fire of his energy storm or being crushed to death as the tu

“If Anthony dies, I’m dead anyway. And he’ll die if he stays here. Get him out!” I sent.

“If she hurts you—”

“She won’t. I’m her good vamp-killing buddy, remember? Just hurry back.”

He sent me a slurry of emotions, intentionally or not, that had my eyes widening. “Do. Not. Die.”

Yeah, well, that was the plan.

“Christine!” My voice caused her to start slightly. “You’re draining Anthony. And if he dies, we do, too. Remember?”

She stared at me, dark eyes bright, for a long moment. And then she slowly nodded. “I can’t die yet,” she agreed. “I’m not done.”

It was amazing how three small words could cause gooseflesh to break out all over my body. “Not done?”

“You asked why I killed Elyas. This is why,” she said, obscurely.

“Because he was an evil vampire?”

“Well, of course,” she agreed, pushing back a stray lock of hair. The heel of her hand brushed her cheek, leaving a red streak behind, like badly placed rouge. “But I could have killed him at any time for that.”

“So why now? To avoid Alejandro’s executioner?” I knew before she answered that that wasn’t right. Whoever Alejandro sent would have had a rude awakening.

“No. It was the rune.”

“The rune.”

“Yes. I knew Elyas had it.” She frowned. “Or I thought he did. I didn’t know about the necklace, you see, when I killed the fey. I checked his pockets, but I never thought to look there. And then I felt Elyas nearby and had to flee before I could look anymore. I couldn’t let him see me. I couldn’t be discovered. It was too soon. But then I saw him coming out with the necklace in his hand, and I realized my mistake.”