Insatiable

Chapter Forty-nine

8:00 P.M. EST, Saturday, April 17

Shrine of St. Clare

154 Sullivan Street

New York, New York

What?” Meena cried. The single word ricocheted around the highly polished kitchen like a bullet.

“Hey.” Jon held up a hand. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I mean, I think we should be able to decide for ourselves if we want to risk-”

“You want to decide for yourselves? Fine.”

Alaric opened his jacket pocket and pulled out the photo of his partner, the one who was missing half his face, holding it out for all of them to see.

“Remember this?” he asked brutally. “This is what’s going to happen to you if you go back to that apartment. Because they’re going to be there waiting for you. And this is probably the least they’re going to do to you.”

“What?” Meena cried again, though more softly this time. “But…why?”

“War,” Abraham Holtzman explained. “Alaric thinks we’ve stumbled into the middle of a vampire war. And I’m sorry to say that, given the evidence, I have to agree with him.”

“A…vampire war?” Meena looked from one man to the other. She remembered Lucien’s strange reaction to those very words when she’d said them herself on the countess’s balcony a few nights earlier.

“That’s right,” Alaric said. He, unlike his boss, didn’t attempt to soften his tone. There was no sugarcoating anything where Alaric Wulf was concerned. He added matter-of-factly, “And you, Meena Harper, are the flag everybody wants to capture. That’s why you can never go back to your apartment.”

Meena, her knees suddenly turning to water, fumbled her way toward a nearby chair.

“But…,” she said. “War? With who? Between who?” Then she added, “And what about Jack? My dog is in that apartment. What’s going to happen to my dog?”

She knew it made no sense to be worrying about her dog. He was, after all, only a dog.

But he was all she had.

She thought she saw Alaric Wulf fling another glance at the kitchen window. Then he frowned.

What was going on with the windows? Why was everyone so obsessed with windows?

“Wait,” Jon was saying. “Vampire war? Excuse me? What is all this about, exactly? And what does it have to do with my sister?”

Abraham Holtzman explained patiently. “Alaric’s talking about a battle for the throne of the prince of darkness. When Dracula originally made his pact with the dark forces in order to attain life eternal in exchange for his immortal soul, he was anointed as the unholy one, the heir to the Dark Lord, the overseer of all of Satan’s dealings on earth, or the mortal plane. When we dispatched Dracula, that mantle passed to his eldest son, Prince Lucien, your sister’s lover.”

Meena winced at the words your sister’s lover.

“There is reason to believe that Lucien Dracula is a bit of an anomaly in the vampire world,” Abraham went on, flipping to a well-thumbed page of the Palatine Guard Human Resources Handbook. “His mother, as you might know, was rumored to be an angelic creature, and some say that might possibly have-”

“Holtzman,” Alaric interrupted. When Abraham looked up, he pointed at the windows. “Speed it up.”

“Oh, right, right,” Abraham said, closing the book, to the relief of everyone. “Well, in any case, Lucien has a half brother-”

“Dimitri,” Meena said faintly. Noticing the curious glance Abraham threw her, she said, through numb lips, “Lucien told me. He doesn’t like his brother very much. Or trust him.”

“Yes, well, with good reason, I would say,” Abraham said, nodding. “Nasty piece of work, Dimitri Antonescu, as I suppose he’s calling himself now. Different mother entirely. Ambitious, grasping woman. And the son’s the same, from what I’ve gathered. Murdered his own wife. Never been happy that the throne went to his elder brother. Never agreed with the way Lucien has been running things since their father died. Wants to take over the whole operation himself…”

Jon blinked. “You think Dimitri’s the one who-”

“Sent Stefan Dominic to try to capture your sister to use her to convince Lucien to give up the throne, or at least do something stupid so Dimitri could trap and kill him and then take over the throne? Yes,” Alaric said succinctly. “That’s exactly what he’s saying.”

“He probably found out somehow that his brother was, er, seeing you, Miss Harper,” Abraham said. Meena appreciated the chivalrous delicacy with which he put it. “And that you had some connection with Yalena-”

“I gave her my business card,” Meena murmured, still feeling dazed by the discovery that sleeping with Lucien Antonescu had caused her to lose her beloved dog, her apartment, and probably, since the Dracul seemed to know everything else about her, her job…

Her entire life, basically.

But what about Lucien? Where was he? Did he know about any of this? Was he safe? If only they’d let her call him!

“Yes, yes, of course,” Abraham was saying, excited. “They probably found her card in Yalena’s things and later made the connection. Goodness. They get smarter all the time, don’t they, Alaric?”

“They can read minds,” Meena said, feeling sick to her stomach. “When I saw Stefan at work yesterday…I didn’t recognize him from the picture Yalena showed me on her cell, but I knew…something. He must have sensed it…and my connection to Lucien…”

She groaned and dropped her face into her hands. All of this was her fault. Her own fault, for being so stupid.

“Oh, well, there you go,” Abraham said almost cheerfully. “That explains everything. So he must have gone to Dimitri-”

Jon interrupted. “I rode down in the elevator with that Stefan guy and his agent, or whatever he was. His name was Dimitri.”

There was stunned silence for a few seconds after this. Then Alaric said slowly, “You took an elevator ride with one of the most depraved vampires in the history of time. Dimitri Antonescu-or Dracula-is widely known to be second only to his father in cruelty, perversion, and all-around moral debauchery. You’re lucky to be alive.”

Now it was Jon’s turn to sink down into one of the kitchen chairs. “Shit,” he said, his face having gone as pale as his shirt.

Meena couldn’t blame him. She knew exactly how he felt.

Although not when he asked, “What about our stuff? Up in the apartment? What are we supposed to do about that, apply for FEMA aid? I doubt they’re going to believe us when we say we lost a whole apartment to a bunch of warring vampires.”

“Jon!” Meena cried, appalled.

“Well,” Jon said, blinking at her, “we’re about to lose everything we own, for Christ’s sake. Think about your new tote bag. That thing was worth a couple grand, at least.”

At Jon’s mention of the tote bag Lucien had given her, Meena felt something erupt within her.

“This is ridiculous,” she cried, leaping to her feet, though her knees were shaking. She found that she was mainly yelling at Alaric, who leaned against the kitchen counter, his arms folded across his broad chest, staring at her, his already small mouth shrunk to the size of a grape. “You have to let me go home!” This wasn’t about a tote bag, of course. She didn’t care anymore about the tote bag. This was about so much more. “Or at least let me call Lucien. He can stop this. He really can.”

“But we don’t want to stop it,” Alaric said simply.

“What?” This was the craziest thing Meena had heard all day. “Why not?”

“It’s Palatine policy,” Abraham Holtzman explained earnestly, “to let warring vampire clans wipe each other out. So long as civilians are protected.”

It took a moment for the full significance of this statement to sink in…but when it did, it was like a fist to the face.

So they expected her just to let Lucien be attacked by his brother and the Dracul? For her not to lift a finger to try to warn him or help?

Of course they did. They didn’t care about him. Or think of him as anything but what he was:

The prince of darkness.

“So if Lucien,” she said faintly, “goes to the apartment, looking for me…”

“That’s exactly what they’re hoping he’ll do,” Alaric said. “He’s who they’ll be there waiting for.”

Tears filled her eyes. Alaric didn’t lower his gaze from hers.

“Oh, that’s just great,” Meena said. Her voice was shaking as badly as her knees now. “Let the vampires wipe themselves out. But obviously no one cares what happens to my dog!”

It was as she said the word dog that a projectile burst through the kitchen windows, shattering glass everywhere.

Something heavy and hard hit Meena in the midsection, sending her flying to the floor. She realized belatedly that it was Alaric Wulf. He’d tackled her almost the same way only the night before.

But this time it wasn’t to keep her from running away from him. It was to shield her from the flames of the Molotov cocktail that had burst against the wall.

“Are you all right?” he lifted his head to ask her, his face just inches from hers.

The impact of his body weight slamming her into the floor had completely winded her. She knew she’d be sore tomorrow, but she was otherwise unharmed. She nodded, then gasped, “Jon?”

“I’m all right!”

Peeking around Alaric’s broad shoulder, she saw an arm waving out from beneath the kitchen table.

“I’m good,” Jon cried. “But there’s glass everywhere. And the wall is on fire.”

“Everyone take cover!” Abraham had rushed to fill a pitcher at the kitchen sink to douse the flames. “Stay away from the windows. It’s starting.”

The swinging door burst open, and a man in a clerical collar called, “Is everyone all right? We thought we heard-oh, dear.”

“Yes, yes,” Abraham said. “They seem to have followed Alaric from uptown, as we feared. We need to go make sure Father Joseph has closed the chapel for the night. Evening prayer’s going to have to be canceled. We can’t have any civilians on the property. I suggested they put signs up saying there’s been a small flood from a broken water pipe. Jon, go see how Father Bernard is doing making stakes out of last year’s manger-”

“On it.” Jon wiggled out from beneath the table just as Alaric lifted himself off Meena and offered a hand to help pull her up from the floor.

She took it, casting a quick glance over her shoulder at the smoldering kitchen wall as she followed Alaric out into the hallway. Nuns and friars-St. Clare’s was staffed by Franciscan friars and Poor Clare sisters, the rectory behind the church with the convent just next door to it-were scrambling to get to their battle stations. Meena had never seen so many crucifixes in her life.

“Alaric,” she said breathlessly, trotting after him. “Please just let me call Lucien. I have to talk to him right now. He’ll stop them. He’s their prince. They’ll listen to him.”

Alaric let out a grim chuckle, apparently at Meena’s naïveté. “Haven’t you been listening? No, they won’t. Not if they’ve launched an all-out rebellion against him. Which, trust me, they have. In fact, now that I think about it, that’s what the bodies of those dead girls were probably all about in the first place.”

“What do you mean?” she demanded.

“Bait,” Alaric said enigmatically.

Meena shook her head. Really, he was so frustrating sometimes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Yalena said something about bankers-”

“Bankers?” Alaric kept striding through the rectory, dodging nuns with crossbows.

“Alaric,” Meena said, shaking her head. “Where are you going?” This question was seconded by an all-too-familiar voice behind them.

“Wulf!” Abraham Holtzman yelled. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Alaric froze, causing Meena to ram into him.

Slowly, he turned in the hallway to face his boss, who was leaning out of a doorway.

“I’m going,” Alaric said with deliberation, “to get the dog.”

“Dog?” Meena turned her head sharply to look up at him. “But-”

Abraham Holtzman cut her off, annoyed. “You can’t be serious, Wulf. We’re in the middle of a battle zone here. We need you! Besides, it’s a fool’s mission. You’ll be walking into a trap.”

“I’m used to that,” Alaric said. “And you have more trained fighters here than you need. Sister Gertrude could kill a Dracul with her eyes closed. Father Bernard took out a half dozen after last year’s Christmas pageant with the angel off the top of the tree.”

“That’s not the point, Wulf,” Abraham hissed, lowering his voice when one of the novices tittered upon overhearing this. “Don’t go playing the hero just to impress the girl.”

Meena, realizing she was the girl he was referring to, wanted to point out how badly Abraham was misjudging the situation. Alaric Wulf hated her.

“You’ll only end up getting yourself killed.” Abraham went on. “And we actually need you here, in case you didn’t notice.”

“I’ll be back with the dog in less than an hour,” was all Alaric said, and then he disappeared through yet another swinging door.

“Stubborn fool.” Abraham rolled his eyes and disappeared through his own doorway.

Meena, looking from one doorway to the other, realized belatedly that she’d made an even bigger mess than the gasoline bomb had. How did she keep doing this?

She was after Alaric like a shot.

“Wait,” she called.

He was in the rectory’s foyer, buckling on his scabbard. He didn’t appear, from the look he threw out at her from underneath the hunk of blond hair that had once again fallen over those blue eyes of his, excited to see her. She didn’t blame him.

“What do you want?” he asked.

She suddenly felt aware of his size, which was enormous. His hands, his feet…all of him was big, just huge. When he came into a room, he didn’t just come into it, he lumbered, he banged, he swaggered into it.

She couldn’t count how many times she’d wished over the past twenty-four hours that he had never showed up at her door.

And yet now that he’d saved her life-twice-she couldn’t find the words to express how glad she was that he had. And she was supposed to be a dialogue writer.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean I wanted you to go,” she finally settled for saying, reaching out to lay her fingers across one of those huge, almost ungainly wrists. “You don’t have to do this.”

His hands, busy working the buckle to keep his sword in place, stilled. “Yes,” he said to the threadbare, flowered carpet. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have forgotten the dog.”

“But you didn’t know, Alaric,” Meena said. She curled her fingers around his wrist. His skin felt warm in all the places, she now remembered, Lucien’s had always felt so strangely cool. “You didn’t know any of this was going to happen. How could you have?”

“You knew,” he said, throwing the words at her almost accusingly. And now, she saw, he was looking at her, those bright blue eyes searching her face. “You know everything before it happens.”

“No.” The directness of his gaze unnerved her. “Not everything. Only…well, you know.”

“Right,” he said, dropping his gaze again. “Only how people are going to die. Not dogs, though.”

She shook her head. “No. Not dogs. Only people. Look-” She lifted her chin, attempting a brave smile. “Forget what I said before. Jack Bauer will be all right. You said yourself, he’s a vampire dog. He’ll be able to take care of himself. So stay here. Really. I want you to stay here. I’m going to. I’m going to stay. Please stay with me.”

He lifted his gaze to meet hers once more, narrowing his eyes at her. “You don’t need to worry,” he said. “Holtzman will protect you while I’m gone.”

“Me?” She realized he didn’t understand what she was trying to say to him at all. “I’m not worried about me.”

Now he looked confused. “But I’ll be all right,” he said. “And you want the dog.”

“Alaric.” Her chin was starting to tremble, and she was aware that her brave face was melting. “You may not be all right. And even though I really do love Jack Bauer, in the end, you’re a person, and he’s just a dog.”

His gaze was unreadable. “How?” he asked her curiously.

Now she was the one who didn’t understand. “I beg your pardon?”

“How does it happen?” His fingers were busy again, working his belt. “My death. You’re seeing it, aren’t you? You think if I go, I’m going to die. So how does it happen this time? Not in the pool. Is it still with the darkness? And the fire?”

“No,” she lied. “Not at all. I see you living a really long, happy life and dying of old age in a resort community of some kind. Florida, maybe. Palm Beach?”

It was too late. He’d seen the tears in her eyes. His broad shoulders tensed, and he turned away from her, reaching for his black leather trench coat, which hung on a rack by the door.

“You’re lying to me,” he said. “I would never retire to Florida. Majorca, maybe. Or Antigua. But never Florida. You shouldn’t lie to a guardsman to protect his feelings. The information you are able to provide to us before a mission could save our lives.” His coat on, he looked down at her with those amazing blue eyes. “Never lie to me again, Meena. Swear to me.”

She blinked away the tears that still clung to her eyelashes. “All right,” she said hoarsely. “I swear. I see a death filled with smoke and darkness and fire for you. There. Are you happy?”

“Oh,” he said, brightening. “See? This is good to know. I like this.” He reached out to tap her roughly on the collarbone, then struck his own. “We need to learn to communicate more like this if we’re going to be working together in the future.”

“What?” She shook her head, perplexed. Her throat throbbed, both with emotion and the smoke she’d inhaled back in the kitchen. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Alaric. Why would we be working together in the future? I’m trying to tell you that if you do this, you won’t have a future. But since you won’t listen to me…let me go with you.”

“Oh, no,” he said with a humorless bark of laughter.

“But it’s my dog you’re risking your life to-”

“No.” He wagged one of his massive fingers in her face. “And if I catch you following me, I’ll handcuff you to something to keep you safe. Don’t think I won’t.”

She believed him. “I know you will,” she said. “But at least let me…here.”

Impulsively, she loosened the scarf she’d been wearing around her throat.

Alaric looked down as she began tying the delicate strip of red material around his wrist, the one that she’d been holding.

“What is this?” he asked, his voice sounding…well, strange.

A token, she thought. From milady, for St. George, about to do battle with the dragon for her.

She knew she was losing what frail grip she’d once had on her sanity.

There was no chance she was going to say that milady stuff out loud to Alaric Wulf, however.

“I don’t know,” she said, trying not to let him see the tears that were still in her eyes. “For luck, I guess. If you really are going and really won’t let me come with you.”

“Oh, I’m going,” he said with assurance as Meena pulled his sleeve back down over the scarf. “And alone. The Palatine leave no one behind. This includes dogs.”

“This is for luck then, too,” she said in a tear-clogged voice.

She rose onto her tiptoes and placed a kiss on one of Alaric’s cheeks.

One dark blond eyebrow raised, his small mouth pressed even smaller than usual in…surprise? Disapproval?

She couldn’t tell.

“Meena Harper,” he said, looking down at her very intently.

“Yes?” she asked.

“This is for you,” he said, and slipped something long and hard into her fingers. “Don’t be afraid to use it.”

Then he opened the front door to the rectory, looked around outside, and stepped through it, shutting it firmly behind him.

He was gone.

Meena examined what Alaric Wulf had placed into her hand.

It was a pointed wooden stake.

She couldn’t help smiling to herself.

He was just so…annoying.

So why was she standing there crying?

“There you are.”

Her brother, Jon, had come out into the hallway. He was holding several empty plastic milk jugs.

“They want someone to fill these with holy water,” he explained. “I volunteered you for the job. So can you go scoop some out of the font in the baptistery?”

Meena, reaching up hastily to wipe the tears from her cheeks, slipped the stake into the back pocket of her jeans and said, “Sure.”

She knew what she had to do. What she should have done long ago.

Tremulously, she asked, “Jon?”

He’d already started down the hall. At the sound of his name, he turned back. “Yeah, Meen? What?”

“Nothing. Just…” She shuffled toward him, letting her head hang and dragging her feet. “I’m kind of scared. Can I have a hug from my big brother?”

“Aw, of course,” he said, holding his arms open wide.

Once he’d enveloped her in his embrace, he asked, over the top of her head, “Is this crazy or what? I always thought your psychic thing was weird. But vampires?”

“Gee, thanks, Jon,” Meena said drily, her ear over his heart. “You always know just the right thing to say to make a girl feel better.”

“Well,” Jon said with brotherly awkwardness. “Yeah. Sorry about that. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” Meena said. She pulled away from him and gave him a tearful smile. “I do. And thanks. Sorry about getting our lives destroyed.”

“No big deal.” Jon ruffled her hair. “And don’t worry. I’m sure Alaric will be back with Jack soon, and both of ’em will be just fine. Now go fill these up.” He practically threw the milk jugs at her. “I have to go; Abraham is going to teach me the best way to cut off a vampire’s head.” He hurried back into the kitchen.

Meena watched him go. Then she lifted her hand. In it was her cell phone, which she’d managed to pick from the pocket of his jean jacket while he’d been hugging her.

She checked to make sure the battery was still charged. The cell phone thrummed to life.

Perfect.

She had an important call to make.