“I read about it in a book!” he said, sounding desperate.
I opened an eye. “Read about what?”
“The col de mort.”
“You didn’t invent it?” I frowned.
“No. No, it was in a detective novel, a metal tip used to make a training sword deadly. But I thought—”
“That wood would work the same way on vamps.” I sat up. “You did invent it!”
And then I felt dizzy.
“Dory!”
“M’kay.” I caught myself with one hand. It hurt. I picked it up and looked at it, and all the skin was burned off the palm.
How’d that happen?
“She isn’t.” Floor vamp laughed. “You’re both going to die.”
“Why?” Louis-Cesare demanded furiously. “We came in peace to your court—”
“Does this look like peace?” the vamp snarled, and started up, until the col de mort bit into his chest. He froze.
“This is of your doing,” Louis-Cesare said. “I came back for my wife. All I want is to take her and go—”
The vamp snorted. “I’m sure you do!”
“Zakarriyyah,” I said, finally placing him. I tried to snap my fingers, but that doesn’t work with no skin.
Startled, dark brown eyes met mine. “How did you know my name?”
“You were at the palace, in the desert. You were going to set yourself on fire to allow the others to escape.” I looked at him soberly. “That was very brave.”
Louis-Cesare and the vamp were both staring at me now.
“How did you know about that?” the vamp whispered.
“Saw it. Hassani showed me.”
“Before or after you tried to kill him?” Another vamp snarled. He was the opposite of the skinny, bald guy on the floor, having a full head of hair, more muscle than he needed, and a beard that looked like it was trying to eat his face.
Oh, that would be mine.
I grinned.
And then I remembered what he’d said.
“Kill him? I saved him.” At least, I was pretty sure.
My head hurt.
“She has bleeding on the brain,” the vamp woman under Louis-Cesare’s arm said, speaking for the first time. “I’m a healer. I can help—”
“No!” That was the big bearded vamp. He looked at Zakarriyyah. “You saw what they did upstairs, the monsters they unleashed on us!”
“What monsters?” I asked.
“Do you mean the fey?” Louis-Cesare demanded. “We fought them; we didn’t send them!”
“And that was last night,” I told Zakarriyyah. Talk about holding a grudge.
“If you don’t let me—” the woman began.
“Do it,” Zakarriyyah ordered, but of course, that required somebody’s else’s approval, too, didn’t it?
“She will soon have irreversible brain damage,” the woman said, speaking slowly and distinctly to Louis-Cesare. “It is a common side effect of smoke inhalation.”
Louis-Cesare didn’t move.
“Your toys will not last much longer,” the woman said. “And then it will be out of your hands. But it may also be too late.”
“It’s okay, you can trust Zakarriyyah,” I said. “He’s a good sort.”
The vamp in question stared at me some more.
“And if you choose to kill her instead?” Louis-Cesare said viciously.
“I don’t have to kill her!” The woman struggled uselessly against his hold. “She’ll die without treatment!”
“You have me captive as well,” Zakarriyyah said slowly, still looking at me. “If your woman dies, my life is forfeit.”
That was apparently acceptable, because Louis-Cesare let the healer go. And, immediately, she was by my side. I didn’t even see her move.
Of course, there might have been a reason for that. It felt like my brain had started skipping, like a video with bad editing. Suddenly, I was on my back again on the cold stone floor, staring up at the pretty vampire’s face. She looked Egyptian, but not like modern Egyptians, who have a good deal of Arab blood from the invasion. But like a frieze off a tomb wall.
“You should be wearing pleated linen and gold in your hair,” I told her seriously.
“I will consider it,” she said, and put a hand on my forehead.
My brain skipped again, and I guess Louis-Cesare and Zakarriyyah had made up. The latter was no longer on the floor, and they were talking in hushed voices along with several other vamps. That included the big guy and another who could have been his twin except that he was bald and had a chest so hairy that it looked like a fur carpet had been stuffed inside his shirt. I could see it through the huge rents in his clothes that matched Kitty’s claws, but he must be pretty high ranking, as he’d already healed.
There was no problem hearing them, despite the low tones. The acoustics in here were really something. But I