Luc gestured toward the door with his katana’s curving blade, and Balthasar followed without comment. But he turned back in the doorway, found my gaze.
“Our reunion, so sweet, has only just begun. Until we meet again.”
And then he disappeared.
* * *
“Have him followed,” Ethan told Malik. “Find out where he’s staying, who else knows he’s here. I want someone on him—vampire and human—at all times.”
Malik nodded, then rose and disappeared into the hallway to do a different kind of Master’s bidding.
Ethan, still across the room—the distance heavy between us—looked at me. “You’re all right?”
I swallowed, worked to collect my thoughts. “He glamoured me. He called me. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to be immune. I was immune.”
A line of worry between his eyes, Ethan moved to the small refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of blood, uncapped it, and brought it back to me. “Drink.”
“I’m not thirsty.”
“The blood will help eliminate the remaining magic. Take it from someone who knows—you’ll feel more yourself afterward.”
“I don’t want—”
“Just drink the damn blood, Merit.” His tone was sharp, his words quick and angry.
“Why him? Why now, when I’ve been immune to everyone else?”
Ethan sighed, sat down beside me. “I’m not certain. He is powerful. A master manipulator. Perhaps his brush with death keened his abilities, or he practiced them in the intervening years. Or it could be the flavor of the magic.” He paused. “Or it could be my fault.”
I looked at him, saw the pinched fear and concern in his eyes. “What he did isn’t your fault.”
“Not Balthasar per se,” Ethan said. “Your reaction.” He pushed a lock of long, dark hair behind my ear, gaze tracking my face as if checking for injuries, evaluating my psyche. “The drugs. Your change.”
My transition to vampire hadn’t been easy or smooth. Ethan had made me a vampire to save me from an attack. A noble deed, I could recognize now, but at the time I hadn’t been able to consent. Feeling guilty about that, Ethan had given me drugs to help me through the cruelly painful transition. For most vampires, it was three days of bone-searing pain; for me, it was mostly a blur.
Unfortunately, in addition to protecting me from pain, it also kept me from fully transitioning to vampire, so my psyche was still split between human and vampire. They were slammed back together eventually, but maybe, as Ethan feared, there were other lingering effects, such as my immunity to glamour. And maybe Balthasar’s magic had been the hammer that slammed that sensitivity back into place.
“We’d always thought you’d just been stubborn,” Ethan said. “But perhaps the reasons were more fundamental than that.”
I heard the guilt in his voice. “No. Balthasar did this because he wanted to prove a point.”
“That he could get to you, and me,” Ethan agreed. “Glamour is a trait intended to entice and manipulate prey. That he used it against you, against both of us, was cruel. Drink,” he said again. “You’ll feel better. And you don’t want me to make you drink it.”
I glanced at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”
His expression didn’t change, so it seemed wise not to argue. I sat up and, with my eyes on him above the rim, drank.
He was right. It took the edge off, neutralized some of Balthasar’s discomforting effect on me.
When I drained the bottle, I handed it back to Ethan, and he put it aside. “Good,” he said. “Your color’s already coming back.”
“I didn’t mean to kiss him.” The words burst out in a bubble of sound, and even I could hear the strain of guilt in my voice. I hadn’t meant to kiss Balthasar, but in that moment, I’d desired nothing less. “I didn’t want to. Not really. I’d have done anything he asked. He had control over every part of me—mentally, emotionally, physically.”
Ethan frowned at me. “Do you think I’d blame you for that? For what he did to you?” He shook his head ruefully. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner. That he got as far as he did. His magic . . . There’s power in it.”
He was angry at himself, believing he’d somehow failed to protect me. Since he’d been the one who intervened, who’d stopped Balthasar from drinking, he couldn’t be further from the truth.
His arms moved around me, pulled me close. “Glamour is, and always will be, a weapon, no matter how prettily dressed.”
A frighteningly powerful weapon.
“I’m not really sure how to feel. It felt like a violation. And it felt wonderful. And that makes me feel guilty.”
He gently tilted my chin so our eyes met. “Glamour is intended to make you feel good, to make the idea of vampire feel wonderful. It wouldn’t be very useful if it didn’t. You are not to blame for your perfectly natural reaction.”
I nodded, but that didn’t relieve the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. “I liked it better when I was immune.”
“I wouldn’t have had you discover it like this.” He smiled a little. “Not that you had any more interest in glamour at your lively Commendation than you did tonight.”
As he’d intended, a corner of my mouth lifted. “And I didn’t like you very much then.”
“No, you did not.”
Luc appeared at the doorway, Malik beside him. He surveyed the room, looked at me. “You’re all right?”
I nodded. “I’m fine.”
Luc nodded. “Lindsey and one of the human guards are on Balthasar. They’ll keep tabs, and we’ll cover him in shifts.” He glanced at Ethan. “You believe his story?”
One arm across my shoulders, Ethan dropped his head back to stare at the coffered ceiling. “His explanation was internally consistent, and explains his absence rationally. You should still verify, confirm what we can.” He lifted his head again, glanced at broken bookshelves, the shattered mementos, appropriately metaphorical. “But he’s here now, so his explanation for his absence matters less than the reason for his presence.”
“And what do you think that is?” Luc asked.
“To best me? To lay claim to whatever throne he believes he’s entitled to?”
“So revenge and power,” Luc said. “Those are perennial vampire favorites.”