“A few days ago,” I told him, thinking of the night Amanda had attacked me and of my dream of the attack from Dracula that had left me with actual puncture wounds in my neck. I’d chalked it up to psychosomatic symptoms from the very vivid dream, but as I sat there staring at Ian’s eager face, I began to wonder if perhaps there wasn’t something to his theory.
Did Dracula have to be present to infect another Tale? Hell, we hadn’t thought he could turn anyone at all, but he’d obviously created a shitload of Ordinary vamps for the Agency to play with, so was it really out of the realm of possibility that he’d be able to send out a piece of himself—his soul? his psyche?—to attack me that night? As Lavender had once told me, “We’re fairytales who were magically transported to the mortal world. Call me crazy, but I’m pretty sure anything’s possible at this point.”
“Extraordinary,” Ian mused, shaking his head as he came to a halt directly in front of me. “Why you? Why did it finally work on you? Was it because he did it remotely? Is that the secret?”
It was at that moment a blur of motion behind Ian caught my eye. I glanced toward it, and had to cover a gasp with a cough when I caught sight of the phantom in the mirror.
Amanda.
“Lucky girl, I guess,” I muttered, trying to watch her movements without Ian noticing.
She gave me a wicked grin as she strolled the length of the mirror, her fingertips passing along the back of Ian’s shoulders. He shuddered a little, feeling her touch as only a shiver down his spine.
With a wink, she transformed herself into a cloud of mist and when it solidified again, where she had been Dracula now stood. I started to cry out, but he held a finger to his lips with a silent giggle as if we were sharing a hilarious joke. And when I blinked, Dracula was gone and Amanda was in his place.
Holy shit!
Suddenly everything began to fall into place. It had never actually been Dracula stalking me, attacking me. It had always been his phantom lover, masquerading as the notorious vampire, drawing me closer, forcing me to track down the man being held captive in the Agency’s dungeons. Christ. It all made sense now. I forced my eyes back to Ian, trying to focus on what he was saying.
“—under observation for the next few days and see what happens.”
“Sorry—what?” I gave myself a mental shake. “Put who under observation?”
“You and Dracula,” Ian said on a huff as if repeating himself was beyond tedious. “I’d like to see how he reacts to having his favorite plaything right here with him.”
My legs finally felt steady enough to push to my feet. “Didn’t you just tell me that he’d killed his other ‘playthings’?” I asked, giving him the finger quote treatment.
Ian laughed, looking at me like I was a first-class idiot. “Trish, the purpose of my job is to observe and understand supernatural beings in our world so that we can keep them under control—and, more importantly, use their abilities to protect the good citizens of our fine nation. Do you really think I give a shit if you live or die if it means figuring out how to safely create our own vampire army? Can you imagine the possibilities?”
I gaped at him in disbelief. Hell, yeah, I could imagine the possibilities. And now their fairy dust thefts made sense, too. They weren’t just experimenting on humans to determine the drug’s effects; they needed the fairy dust to control the volatile, bloodthirsty creatures they were creating.
“You have no idea what you’re screwing with, Ian,” I told him. “We spend years rehabilitating our vamps to keep them from losing control. Ours aren’t like the ones you’ve dealt with in the Here and Now.”
Ian’s omnipresent smirk grew. “Well, we’ll soon find out just how different they are, won’t we?”
I felt Amanda suddenly appear at my side. “You must get to Vlad,” she whispered, her icy breath crystalizing on the edges of my ear. “You are the only one who can help him.”
My mind was pinging around like a pinball, rapidly going over my options, trying to figure out just how in the hell I was supposed to help a feral vampire being held captive in a government installation, rescue my lover who was God knew where, and—oh, yeah—somehow manage to avoid getting myself killed in the process.
“I want to see Nicky,” I barked at Ian, going with the most important one first. When he looked like he might protest, I growled, “Right. Fucking. Now. Or this conversation is over, Ian—holy water sprinklers or not.”
With an irritated sigh, Ian motioned toward the two-way mirror behind him. A moment later, the heavy steel door creaked open and Freddy the Ferret appeared in the doorway, his rat face twisted into a grotesque smirk. Then he stepped aside and another familiar face appeared, making my stomach drop so suddenly, I thought I was going to yack right there on the concrete floor. Alex McCain dragged Nicky into the room.
Nicky’s hair was matted with blood, but thankfully his head wound had healed. His wrists were bound behind his back with heavy shackles, so he must’ve recovered enough of his strength to give them a hard time. But he still looked like shit. And based on the smug expression on McCain’s face, I had a feeling the Enforcer had played a hand in keeping him that way.
“You fucking prick,” I ground out. “You lying, traitorous bastard!”
Alex met my gaze briefly, then gave Nicky a hard shove, sending him sprawling onto the concrete.
With a strangled cry, I scrambled over to Nicky on my hands and knees, helping him to his knees and wrapping my arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly.
“It’s all right, doll,” he murmured into the curve of my neck. “I’ve got you.”
I chuckled in spite of the tears pricking at my eyes. Leave it to Nicky to kneel there, bloody and bruised, shackled so he couldn’t fight back, and assure me that everything was going to be okay. I took his face in my hands and kissed him hard—twice—before two of Ian’s goons grabbed Nicky’s arms and jerked him to his feet.
“What the hell are you doing?” I cried. Without thinking, I rushed the first guy and tackled him to the ground so hard, Nicky and the other agent nearly pulled a Jack-and-Jill and came tumbling after.
The next thing I knew, I had three agents trying to pin me down, but there was no way in hell I was going to let them drug me up again. I kicked and swung savagely, my blows landing solidly if the sounds of their juicy curses and groans of pain were any indication.
“Trish!” Nicky’s voice cut around my stream of profanity.
My head came up just in time to see Freddy the Ferret swinging a nightstick down toward my head. I brought up my left forearm, blocking his arm, then drove my fist into his solar plexus. As the air shot out of his lungs he gasped and stumbled backward, grasping at his chest.
“Enough!” Ian roared. McCain started for me, but Nicky bum-rushed him, knocking him on his ass. “I said enough, goddamn it!”
Ian shook his head in disgust. “My apologies, Trish,” he said with a politeness I saw through in a fairytale minute. “My men seem to have experienced a troubling lapse in manners. You’re our guest here, after all. Isn’t that right, Freddy?”
Freddy just glared at me with murder in his eyes. Yeah, well, I had news for the little bastard—two could play that game. And the look I sent back made it clear he’d better hope no one left him in a room with me or the shit was gonna get real. I glanced to where McCain was picking himself up off the ground. And that asshole was next.
“As you see, I’ve not harmed your lover,” Ian said, clasping his hands behind his back. “However, I’m afraid that thanks to this little altercation there might be some hard feelings that could impede our discussions. How regrettable.” He sighed theatrically and motioned to his men. “Please escort Mr. Blue out so that Trish and I may continue our conversation.”