a sharp callus along the side of his index finger. He flinched a little when I reached out and captured that hand, held very still while I stroked lightly over it. The skin was uneven, just a little rough, and the flesh beneath was hard. He was watching me touch him, and I could hear his breath halt in his throat.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sat like this with anyone. Kindness after cruelty, warmth in a cold place, tenderness instead of suspicion: none of it was supposed to come to me, and certainly not from a vampire. Uncertainty fluttered through my stomach. What was I doing? I dropped his hand and started to move, to pull away, when his voice stopped me. “Why did Dracula torture you?” he asked softly.
“What did Jonathan do to you?” I shot back, expecting that to end the conversation.
He surprised me. “Something similar. Someone important to me… a witch… was taken by the Black Circle. They intended… you know they steal power, from whom-ever they can?” I nodded slowly, barely moving my head. I didn’t say anything, afraid to break the mood, afraid that he would disappear back inside that shell of his and I’d never find out what was going on. “What you may not know is that, taken to extremes, it kills their victim.”
Actually, I did know that. A normal human isn’t simply someone with no magic; he is a completely different species. If magical creatures lose all their magic, that doesn’t somehow transform them into norms. It kills them, by draining away something they need to exist as much as humans need blood.
“What happened?” I asked cautiously.
Louis-Cesare shrugged, and I could feel the movement along my back. “I offered myself in exchange.”
“You did what?” I was sure I’d heard wrong.
“Jonathan is addicted to magic the way some humans are to drugs. But, as with drug addicts, he has difficulty finding a steady supply. Powerful magic users—the only kind that can appease his hunger—are not easy to catch. And even when he is successful, the sacrifice can only provide one ‘hit.’ Then the subject dies, and another must be obtained.”
“I don’t understand.” So why did I suddenly feel chilled?
“A master vampire can heal almost any injury, even a total loss of magic. He can be drained every night, yet still rise the next, as long as his head and heart are intact. He is the perfect, unending sacrifice.”
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe; the chill had expanded and everything was frozen, including my brain. I didn’t ask for details. I didn’t want details. I was suddenly hugely grateful that if we’d had to share a memory, it had been mine.
I swallowed. “How long?”
“I was his captive for a month. We had agreed to a week, but Jonathan refused to let me go. He said… he said he liked my taste better than anyone he’d ever had.” I turned in his arms so I could see his face. One look in those eyes and I knew he wasn’t kidding. In the dim light they shimmered crystal, like sapphire viewed through ice, reflecting perfectly every emotion. “If Radu hadn’t found me, I might still be there.”
“Radu found you?”
“Yes. As my master, he was able to track me. I was in a stone-walled cell, too weak to break out during the day, and subject to Jonathan’s attentions every night. I had almost given up hope, until one afternoon I heard a voice outside my window telling me to step back. I didn’t recognize it—I had not seen Radu in years—but I thought it prudent to comply. Just as I did so, the entire wall broke away, leaving me staring at a dust-covered man trying vainly to control the rearing horse he had chained to the window bars.”
“That sounds like Radu.”
“Then the roof caved in.” It was said so deadpan that I wasn’t sure if I was being teased. But Louis-Cesare’s lips twitched, softened and curved into a smile. I laughed in relief. “It did,” he insisted.
“I’ve no doubt.” ’Du was many things, but a master engineer wasn’t one of them. “But I still don’t understand what happened at the plane. Why was Jonathan trying to blow you up?”
“He wasn’t. He has been trying to recapture me ever since I escaped, but had to be careful lest he risk making war on the Senate.”
“We’re already at war.”
“Giving him the perfect excuse. By destroying the Senate’s jet, he hoped to convince the family that I had