Irina motioned Elise over to the desk, where an open shoebox sat next to an old weaving that had been laid flat. A stack of folded papers rested on top. Here they are.
May I? Elise asked, reaching to pick up the collection of letters.
At Irina's nod, she unfolded the first one and glanced at the page. It was filled with a hasty, violently uneven scrawl. The words were barely legible, written in what appeared to be Latin, by a hand that seemed guided by madness. Elise fanned through the other papers, finding more of the same on them.
Do you think it means anything?
Elise shook her head. I can't be sure. I'd like to show it to someone, though. You're sure you don't mind if I take these?
Do what you'd like. I have no use for them myself.
Thank you. Elise glanced at the weaving that lay on the desk. It was incredibly beautiful and obviously very old. She couldn't resist tracing her finger over the intricate stitches of the medieval garden design. This is lovely. The detail is incredible, like a painting done with a needle.
Yes, it is. Irina smiled. And whoever made it had an interesting sense of whimsy too.
How so?
I noticed it when the piece was wrapped around the stack of letters. Let me show you.
She folded the square cloth diagonally, turning up one edge so that the designs on the lower left and upper right corners touched. At the place where they met, the delicate embroidery revealed the hidden shape of a teardrop falling into the basin of a crescent moon.
Elise laughed, delighted by the clever artistry of the work.
The woman who made this was a Breedmate?
Apparently so. Irina carefully smoothed it out again. It must be from the Middle Ages, don't you think?
Elise couldn't answer, even if she had a guess. At that instant, a lancing blast of pain sliced into her mind. It was pure menace, something deathly evil...and it was suddenly very close.
Inside the house.
Irina, she whispered. Someone's here.
What? What do you mean someone--
She held up her hand to silence the woman, fighting through the mental assault as her mind filled with the violent thoughts of the intruder.
It was a Minion, sent on a mission to kill.
We have to get out of here right now.
Get out of here? But I don't-- You have to trust me. He'll kill us both if he finds us.
Irina's eyes went wild with fright. She shook her head. There's no way out from back here. Only the window--
Yes. Hurry! Open it and get yourself out of here. I'll be right behind you.
Elise silently closed the room's door, then dragged the bulky leather chair in front of it while Irina worked on opening the ground floor window. The Minion was quiet in his stealth as he prowled farther into the town house looking for his prey, but the savagery of his thoughts betrayed him as loudly as a screaming alarm.
He'd been sent by his Master to kill her, but he meant to drag things out. Make her bleed. Make her scream. That's what he enjoyed the most about his job.
And he was almost giddy with the idea that he'd get to exercise his perversions on two women instead of just the one.
Oh, God, Elise thought, revulsion surging up the back of her throat.
She called upon the power of Tegan's blood inside her and her own determination, working furiously to focus through the chilling knowledge of what was stalking toward her up the hallway.
The window lock is stuck, Irina gasped, struggling in her panic. It won't open!
That worried shriek drew the Minion like a beacon. Heavy footsteps pounded toward the end of the hallway now. Elise grabbed a thick book from a shelf and ran to Irina's side, smashing the heavy binding against the window casement to loosen the sticky lock.
There it goes, Elise said as the mechanism finally gave way. She dropped the book and pushed the glass aside, then knocked out the screen and let it fall to the ground below. Climb out, Irina. Go now!
She felt the Minion bearing down on the room where they hid. His thoughts were malicious, black with menace. She heard his guttural roar the instant before he threw himself at the door. He came at it again, then again. The hinges screamed with the impact, the frame splitting as he came at the thing again with the force of a battering ram.
Elise! Irina shrieked. Oh, my God! What's going on?
She didn't answer. There was no time. Elise lunged for the letters, but as she pivoted with them toward the window and her only hope of escape, the Minion shoved the door open wide enough for him to heave into the room. He threw the obstructing chair out of his way and came at her, brandishing a dreadful-looking hunting blade in his hand. He snarled, and the stretch of his features gave prominence to a vicious scar that cut down his forehead and onto his right cheek. The cloudy eye in the path of that scar was gleaming with malice.
Don't run away so soon, ladies. We're going to have a little fun.
Hard fingers clamped around Elise's neck before she could dodge the Minion's reach. He shoved her onto the surface of the desk and leaned over her. Slapped her so hard with the back of his big hand that her vision swam and the whole side of her face rang with pain. With a powerful drive of his arm, he planted the tip of the blade into the wood next to her head, missing her by a deliberate, scant inch.
His grin was full of sadistic humor as his fingers closed tighter on her neck. Play nice and maybe I'll let you live, he lied.
Elise kicked and twisted, but his grip was unrelenting. With her free hand, she cast about for anything to use as a weapon. The shoebox tipped on the desk, spilling its odd collection of cuff links, pictures...and a pearl-handled letter opener. Elise tried not to call attention to her find, but she was determined to get hold of it.
Let her go! Irina shouted.
You'd better not move, the Minion growled, glancing up at her in warning. That's right, bitch. You stay put, or your friend here is going to eat steel.