As he headed for the exit, Butch chuckled. “Look at you, caring about your fellow man. Vampire. Whatever.”
“Don’t get it twisted.” V held open the way out. “I still think people are stupid.”
“Oh, good.” Butch stepped through into the night. “Otherwise, I’d mistake this for an episode ofBlack Mirror.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Down under the decaying hunting cabin, Kane spent the daylight hours sitting on the floor, propped up against the wall, within view of the bed behind the sofa. With that couch functioning as a footboard, he couldn’t see much of Nadya as she slept, but going by her breathing patterns, he figured she must have gotten at least a little rest.
There had been no shut-eye for him, and the weird thing was, he didn’t feel tired. That buzzing under his skin, that seething, churning energy, was a constant, banked for now, but ready and hungry for… anything, really.
It was a reminder of how long it had been since he had had any level of health.
And he remembered the moment he lost it.
Putting his hand out, he looked at his palm, went back in time, and recalled pouring that drink at the libation cart in his study. Thinking back on it now, he couldn’t recall whether the sherry had tasted off. He’d been so consumed by Cordelhia’s impending needing, those hormones of hers calling a response in him that grew ever moredistracting, that he hadn’t paid any attention to what had rolled over his tongue.
But it clearly had been poisoned.
He’d had that first glass.
Followed by the other.
After that…
Wincing, he rubbed his eyes as if he could wipe away the image of his Cordelhia up on that bed, her blood dripping off her lax hand, pooling on the floor. He’d had the same vantage point then as he did now, looking up to see the dead body.
And then he’d heard that scream.
Cordelhia’smahmenin her fine silk-and-fur overcoat, standing in the open doorway of the chamber, screaming in horror—
“You have killed my daughter! My daughter is dead!”
Kane tried to get up from the floor. But as he pushed his palms into the finely woven carpet, his arms refused the burden of his torso and he slapped back down onto his face.
When he turned his head to the side… he saw the bloody knife in his hand.
His first thought was that it was not his hand. Then he thought it was not his blade.
And finally, he realized it was not a knife at all.
It was his letter opener, the one from his desk down in the study, the one made of sterling silver, which bore the crest of his bloodline… the one he’d been given after he’d survived his transition by his sire.
The dagger-shaped object had been missing for a couple of nights.
And now, it was back, and his hand was upon the bloody length, his fingers wrapped around the miniature sword’s hilt.
In the back of his mind, he noted that his beloved’smahmenwas still screaming, but he was trying to remember how any of this had come topass—and grappling with the reality that if the female in that formal cloak and dress had thought there was any sign of life in her progeny, she would not be yelling incomprehensible things at him, but rather calling for help from the staff—
A male was shouting now, and in Kane’s delirium, he thought for a moment it was he himself. But no, someone else was in the doorway, and they were drawing themahmenback, turning her face into his shoulder.
Cordelhia’s brother shifted theirmahmenout of view, and then he came in and grabbed Kane, dragging him off the floor. The blows came from every direction, pummeling his head and chest, and then he was thrust across the room. His lack of coordination meant that the momentum carried him onward, his weight pitching headfirst, his feet failing to keep up. Hisshellan’s dressing bureau stopped him, and he caught his reflection in the mirror stand for a split second before the impact of his body wiped everything off its surface.
Crashing, now, but the sound was distilled through the cotton wool that his head felt packed in.
“You killed her!”
Kane was yanked back to his feet. And as he looked to the bed, he couldn’t breathe. The blood… was everywhere.