Jubal’s tone was matter-of-fact. Jubal rarely got upset or too excited. Gabrielle and Joie often joked that he’d never have a heart attack.
“Do you think Dad’s family is somehow descendents of mages?” Joie could barely manage to voice the question. Had she not seen vampires and the other extraordinary things she’d witnessed through the long night, the question would have been ludicrous.
“I think there is a possibility,” Jubal acknowledged. “We were always drawn to this region and Dad didn’t want us coming here. I think he has his secrets and maybe the tales he told us were truer than we ever suspected.”
“That’s what Traian said. He doesn’t trust mages at all and I doubt if others like him do. Maybe we should be really cautious about speculating other than among the three of us,” Joie ventured. “At least until we have a chance to talk to Dad.”
“Agreed,” Gabrielle said. She yawned again. “I’m going to bed.”
“We all should,” Jubal agreed.
“Stay in your rooms during the day,” Joie cautioned. She told them what Traian had said about vampires using human puppets. “We can sort all this out tomorrow night when he’s back and figure out what we’re going to do.”
She hugged them both and shut door after them, locking it and after a couple of moments, pushed the dresser up against it. She was very tired and had no idea if she would wake up if an intruder tried her door.
Chapter Eight
Joie dreamt of a man with the face of an angel and the body of the devil. She could hear the sound of her heart beat drumming like thunder every moment of the dream—whether in fear or in exhilaration—she couldn’t tell. One moment she ran for her life, the next she was in his arms, kissing him over and over. Monsters ran through her dream, chasing her, tearing the flesh off of him. In the background her father watched with strange eyes, standing by, doing nothing, holding a glowing sphere in his hands. Beside him a great jungle cat covered in spots watched Traian hungrily and as one of the monsters tore at him, the cat leapt the distance, landing on his back and settling teeth around his head.
Joie rushed across an endless bridge of ice, driving a knife deep into the ribs of the cat in an effort to save Traian. The jaguar turned its head and looked at her. The amber eyes filled with hatred, slowly turned gentle, sorrowful. Joie blinked to bring the face into focus through unaccustomed tears. She gasped and backed away as blood ran down the side of the cat and pooled on the ground beneath it. She was looking directly into the face—the eyes—of her mother.
She fought her way out of the web of her dark dream, tears running down her face, her chest heavy and her heart beating wildly. She didn’t recognize the hotel, only the deep sense of dread and danger surrounding her and the gun in her hand. She was already tracking around the small room, seeking out an enemy.
“Romania,” she said aloud in the gathering darkness. “You’re in Romania with Jubal and Gabrielle and a man you might have made up.”
Traian emerged out of the darkness slowly, hands up, palms facing her. Darkness swirled around him, cloaking him one moment and then revealing his strong features the next. She slipped the gun beneath her pillow and sat up, tasting passion in her mouth. He could very well be a dream, a mere fantasy that her mind tricked her into believing was real.
“You’re already here.” Her gaze drifted over him slowly, inspecting him for damage. The raw wounds were nearly healed, an amazing feat considering what he’d looked like when he’d left in the early-morning hours. “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you.” Defensively she put out her hand as if to ward him off.
He smiled at her and kept coming. “You would never make that mistake. You will always recognize me.”
Of course it was true. She had known the moment he moved that it was him. He took her breath away. It was so trite. So unlike her, but it was the stark truth. He came right up to the side of her bed, reached down, framed her face with both hands and kissed her. His mouth robbed her of all ability to breathe. She was not a woman to be intimated by a dominating male, nor did she ever feel small or fragile or even