I shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. Vamps are like dogs—showing fear only makes it that much more likely they’ll rip you to shreds. “It crossed my mind. I did help to trap you, after all. I doubt I’m on your favorite-people list.”
Drac seemed to find this funny. The eyes didn’t warm up—I had never seen them do so—but the laughter sounded real. “Ah, Dorina. You do flatter yourself.” He sat up slightly and changed expression again. I think it might have been an attempt to look earnest. Mostly, it just looked blank. The newer vampires have that problem sometimes, until they figure out how to get their dead features to form appropriate expressions. Drac had never been real interested in learning.
“Let us be clear, yes? You are a dhampir. A misbegotten creature with no concept of honor, so how can you betray? You acted as you did for two reasons: it is your nature to hunt my kind, and my brother enlisted your aid. I cannot fault you for the first any more than I would a snake for biting me or a scorpion for stinging. I might crush them, under the right circumstances, but blame them? No. As for the second, you could have refused my brother’s order, but you would have been foolish to take such a risk on my behalf. I would not have thanked you for it, and he might well have punished you. In your position, I would have acted the same.”
“Well, if you aren’t carrying a grudge, then I’ll be on my way.” I didn’t bother getting up; it would have been pointless, and the goon behind me looked like he’d appreciate a chance to put me back in my seat. Preferably in little pieces.
I had already calculated the odds of busting out of there, and didn’t like them. Benny’s stash had been stripped off me along with my other weapons, and I’d been knocked unconscious for the trip here. That isn’t easy to do with a dhampir, and my head was feeling like a jackhammer had been at it. When I woke up, it was to find that Drac had a dozen followers in the room, a combo of mages and vamps. Together, they rendered any attempt to run for the door suicide.
I didn’t recognize any of the vamps as being from Drac’s old stable, but none of them were days-old babies, either. The one behind me, for instance, was at least a fourth-level master, and therefore had to be on loan from someone. I was betting Rasputin, the self-appointed leader of the other side in the war. He had plenty of vamps to spare but had just been given a black eye by the Senate. He must have been over the moon at the chance to unleash Drac on them. He could lie low and lick his wounds while Uncle kept his enemies busy, not to mention depriving them of a powerful member if he got really lucky. The fact that Rasputin was allied with the Black Circle would also explain the mages.
The, vamps were standing around seemingly at random, but enough were near the windows to ensure that even if I decided to attempt the ten-story plunge, I’d never make it. My chance of getting away using force was about the same as that of the suckers downstairs winning at roulette. But unlike for them, a loss for me could be permanent.
Drac continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Let us say that, at the moment, you are no more to me than any other dhampir. Normally, I kill all of your kind who are foolish enough to cross my path. It is a precaution, like a farmer putting out traps for mice. But under the circumstances, I am willing to make you the offer of a trade. Your life for assistance with my current endeavor.”
“You want me to kill Mircea and Radu for you.”
Drac stared at me for a moment before breaking out into laughter once again. At least I was providing entertainment, even though I still had all my internal organs intact. Would wonders never cease.
“I had forgotten how amusing you can be.” Drac calmed down after a moment, the nonexpression replacing the previous mirth. “I admit to some surprise that no one has yet managed to end your existence, but certainly you overrate your skills if you believe you have a chance of disposing of either of my siblings. Admittedly, Radu is a coward and a weakling, but he is not stupid enough to trust anyone, particularly one such as you. And Mircea… has always been remarkably difficult to kill.”
When he spoke Mircea’s name, Drac’s face finally found an expression—hatred. The depth of his emotion thrummed through the room, like the skull-throbbing sensation of a building storm. And I suddenly realized that maybe I’d been wrong about Drac’s main target. “Yeah,” I agreed slowly. “You’d think he has some sort of guardian angel.”