“I don’t know. He just fell over. Bam.” I threw my hands up in despair.
“I don’t get it.” Ziggy eyed me suspiciously. “Dahlia showing up in his living room isn’t the kind of thing Nate would miss.”
I shifted in my seat. “He was preoccupied.”
“Ah.” He at least had the courtesy not to reach back and high-five Nathan’s motionless hand.
“So what do we do now?” I asked, looking fearfully at the lightening sky. “Can we fix him?”
“Not if we don’t know what it is she did to him.” He kept his eyes on the road. “Do you know where to find Dahlia?”
I did. Behind the divider, Nathan moaned in pain. I closed my eyes. “Turn right at the next light.”
I found my way back to Cyrus’s mansion with little trouble. The wrought-iron gate was shut. “Let me out here.”
“Does the guy I think lives here live here?” Ziggy asked as he put the van in Park. “You want me to wait?”
I pushed the heavy door open and stepped onto the curb. “Yeah. If I’m not back before sunup, get someplace safe.”
“Why, it’s not like he can come out and get me or anything.”
Casting my gaze up the lawn, I saw five of Cyrus’s bodyguards filing out the door. “No, but he’s got those guys.”
“Holy shit.” Ziggy’s jaw dropped as he watched them through the driver’s-side window. “You’re not really going up there, are you?”
“I have to,” I said, sounding braver than I felt. As I turned away from the van, the strangest urge came over me to look at Nathan one more time. I forced it away.
Here goes nothing. I kicked the iron gate open and headed up the driveway. The guards didn’t move, letting me come to them. But once I got near enough, I was ready.
Two of the goons came toward me with arms outstretched. I stood still until they got close enough to seize me.
I didn’t think. I just moved.
Lunging forward, I drove the heel of my right hand as hard as I could into the first guard’s nose. There was a sickening crunch sound followed by a rush of blood that cascaded down his lips as he doubled over. While he clutched his face, I brought my knee up forcefully into his crotch. He howled in agony and fell to the ground.
The second one tried to grab me from behind. His hands closed on my arms and I flipped him forward, over my head. Then I twisted his arms in opposite directions until I heard bones snap.
I had no time to regroup before the third guard came at me. I dropped down and swung my leg in a wide arc, sweeping his feet from beneath him. As soon as he stumbled to the grass, I wrung his leg and popped the knee out of joint.
The other two guards stood frozen in shock. The scent of blood from the first guard’s injuries stung my nostrils. My face shifted and I snarled at them.
“Either come down here so I can kill you, or go get Cyrus!”
But my request proved unnecessary. Cyrus stepped from the doorway, clapping his hands.
“Wonderful,” he said like a proud parent. “A little predictable. Not enough blood, but overall a fine debut. I can’t wait to see what kind of a killer you’ll become.” He motioned to the two uninjured bodyguards, then to the three who lay groaning on the lawn. Two more came out and helped the injured back inside.
“I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not here for an evaluation,” I said, my features morphing back to normal. “I’m looking for Dahlia.”
“I thought I’d see you again tonight. Please, come in.” He gestured to the door and I followed him cautiously.
The foyer was pitch-black. The only guide I had was the soft slap of his bare feet hitting the marble floor.
I felt empowered by the battle outside, and weird fantasies of carnage ran through my head. I realized that if I made my move now, I could kill Cyrus before he knew what was happening. I took a few silent steps closer.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
His words jarred me. “Do what?”
His laughter filled the darkness and sent a chill up my spine. “You’ve just gravely injured three of my employees. I’m sure you think you’re a real hero, but they were human. Fighting a vampire is another thing entirely, and I can assure you I’d come out on top.” He turned, and though there was no discernible light source in the room, his eyes glittered. “But I can promise you, you’d enjoy it.”
Moron. Of course he’d heard my thoughts through the blood tie. As charged up as I was, he probably sensed my adrenaline from across town.
I heard the clank of metal on metal and the scrape of a door as it opened. Light spilled through the wide double doors and we entered what appeared to be a study.
A fire burned in the massive stone fireplace and a Persian carpet dominated the floor. Cyrus moved around the room and lit a pair of Tiffany lamps with a pull of their chains.
“Very art deco.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you like it. Please, sit down.”
I sank into the leather couch in front of the fire. “I didn’t say I liked it.”
He laughed and sat next to me. Too close. He put one arm companionably around my shoulder and stroked my neck with his long fingernails, tracing my scar. My pulse quickened, but not from fear.
Get it together, Carrie. You managed to resist him before. Stay focused.
“Don’t you love this carpet?” he asked, pointing to the ornate rug beneath us. “When they weave these, they always put one intentional mistake in. Do you know why?”
I didn’t answer.
“Because only Allah can make perfection.” He sighed softly. “I’ve studied this one over and over, and I’ve never been able to find the imperfection.”
“What’s your point?”
“The rug reminds me of you. You would be perfect, were it not for one minor flaw.” He tickled my ear with a long talon and I shivered.
“What’s that?” I asked.
He leaned in, his icy breath hissing in my ear. “Your humanity.”
Drawing back, he tented his fingers in front of his chest. “Have you given any more thought to my offer?”
“I have.” I wasn’t lying.
“And?”
“And I’m still undecided. But I’m not going to give up my humanity, even if I choose you.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s wrong. Killing for pleasure is wrong.” I fixed him with a cold stare. “I heard what you did to that little girl.”
“Which one?” He winked at me. “I wonder, have you even bothered to seek out others of our kind to ask them what they think of your idealistic Movement? There’s a war coming. Do you honestly think you’re on the winning side?”
“I’m not going to be on the side that gets off on murder. That’s all that matters to me.”
His face became solemn. “Carrie, you’re making yourself a martyr when I could make you a queen.”
His distress seemed real. The look in his eyes was enough to make me promise I would reconsider. I wiped a bloody tear from his cheek and a smile touched his lips.
“Stay with me, Carrie,” he whispered against my palm.
I quickly moved my hand away