"I do." He drummed his fingers on the desk, and a ring caught her attention. The crest with two wolves.
"That's Lachlain's ring." Stolen from his dead father's hand. My father killed his.
He studied it, red eyes vacant. "I suppose it is."
He was insane. And she knew he would talk to her like this for as long as she wanted, because she sensed that he was...lonely. And because he believed these were the last hours of her life. "Given the history between the Valkyrie and the Horde, how did you and Helen get together?"
His gaunt face taking on a faraway expression, he began casually, "I had her neck in my hands, about to twist her head from her body."
"How...romantic." One to tell the grandkids.
He ignored her. "Yet something stayed me. I released her, but studied her in the following months trying to discover what had made me hesitate. In time, I realized that she was my Bride. When I seized her and took her from her home, she said she saw something good in me and agreed to stay. She was right for a while, but in the end she paid with her life."
"How? How did she die?"
"I'd heard from sorrow. Over me. That's why I was surprised she succumbed so quickly."
"I don't understand."
"Your mother tried to get me to stop drinking blood not just from a living source but altogether. She even convinced me to eat like a human, joining me to make it easier although she had no need for sustenance. And then came news of you, just as I was about to lose my crown from Kristoff's first rebellion. In the battle, I reverted to my old ways. I kept my crown, but lost everything I'd gained with her. I'd succumbed again. After taking one look at my eyes, Helen fled me."
"Did you ever wonder about me?" she asked, sounding too much like she cared.
"I heard tales that you were weak and unskilled, having received the worst traits of both species. I would never have returned for you even if I thought you would survive long enough to freeze into your immortality. No, this was solely Ivo."
She gave a theatrical wince. "Yeouch." But it did actually sting a bit, a sting that was escalating toward spectacularly pissed off. "Talk about a deadbeat dad - oh, now, that was just awful - " She fell silent as he rose, silhouetted by the stained glass, his hair as gold as the rich inlays. He awed her. Here was her father, and he was terrifying.
He sighed, looking her over, not as though seeing a ghost or a novelty, but like he leisurely mulled an easy kill. "Little Emmaline, coming here is the last mistake you will ever make. You should have known that vampires can always cut away anything that stands between them and their prize - anything else becomes secondary. My prize is keeping my crown. You are a weakness that Ivo, or any of the others, could exploit. So you just became incidental."
Hit the girl where it hurts. "When a leech like you won't have me...I've really got nothing left to lose." She stood and brushed her hands on her jeans. "Works out for me, anyway. I've come here to kill you."
"Have you, now?" He shouldn't look that amused.
His chilling smile was the last thing she saw before he disappeared, tracing. She leapt for the unsheathed sword on the wall, hearing him behind her in an instant. She dropped down, snaring the sword, but he was tracing all around her.
She attempted it herself...unable...wasting precious seconds. Then turned to what she did best - fleeing - using her agility to dodge him.
"You certainly are spry," he said, appearing in front of her. Her sword shot out like a blur, but he easily dodged it. When she struck again, he plucked the raised sword from her, tossing it clattering to the ground.
Emma's gut clenched with the stark realization of what was happening.
He was toying with her.
32
Alone in a great Russian forest, Lachlain stood where it had all begun fifteen decades ago. He and Harmann had landed just hours before, then set out in a truck over the rough terrain to find the location of Lachlain's capture. When the roads became impassable, Lachlain had left Harmann behind. Both of them knew that once Lachlain scented Emma, Harmann could never keep up with him.
Even after so much time, Lachlain had been drawn to the spot unerringly. But now as he circled the clearing, desperate for a hint of her, he feared his judgment had been wrong. No one had ever located Helvita. And Lachlain had been unable to save his own brother in these very woods.
His decision to take this course could end her lif -
Wait... She was here.
The first night he found her, he'd gone to his knees to scent her again. Now he raced over miles of terrain, sword sheathed at his back, heart pounding. He rushed up a steep hill, then stared out from the height.
Helvita lay just beyond him. Desolate, sinister.
Under the watch of the sun, Lachlain took a direct path there. He swiftly scaled a sheer wall, then stalked along the broken-down battlements, moving freely along the empty walk. He entertained no feeling of accomplishment for having located it at last. This was merely a first step.
He froze when he heard her voice like a faint echo, but couldn't pinpoint the source inside, couldn't make out the words. The sheer immensity of the castle was staggering, and she was in the bowels of this foul place.
He couldn't understand what had made her come here, what would drive her to do something this mad.
Had she dreamed of Demestriu? Had she had a premonition in a dream that violent night? He fought to stay cold about this, but his mate was in this hell facing the most evil - and powerful - being ever to walk the earth. She was so gentle. Was she afraid...?
No - he couldn't think like that. He'd found her, knew she was still alive. He could save her - if he was lucid, weighing, determining possibilities.