his feet out of the basin, rising on one leg, turning to begin the hobble back.
One of the men muttered to the other in their own language, “By the wings of Allah, the foot has worsened.”
“Let it rot and fall off. He’s an American.”
The first looked more worried, though. Will deliberately stumbled, and the man with the microscopic trace of decency came beside him to help him to the metal box. Leaning close, Will whispered, “I will tell my people who was kind to me and who was cruel when they make the trade, so that when they come back here again, they’ll know who to kill and who to spare.”
The man glanced behind them nervously, but his comrade hadn’t heard. He had remained several yards away. As he helped Will into the box that was his cell, the younger one said, “Take this.” He handed Will the white sash that had been wrapped around his waist. “Use it to bandage your foot.”
“Thank you.”
The man nodded, quickly closing the metal door. Will braced his back against the door as the man pulled the chain as tight as he could and snapped the padlock through it. He waited until his captor had walked away to let off the pressure, then he turned and saw that the chain was lax. He could push the door open a couple of inches.
And that, he thought, was all he needed.
That night, the illness that had been growing steadily worse seemed to hit its peak. He fought it as the fever heated his blood and his body shook with chills. He had to wait them out, stay awake until they all slept, hours from now.
But in the end, the fever took control. He fell into a fitful, painful sleep, and he was there again; in the forest near that Gypsy village, following the bright flashes of a woman’s colored skirts as she ran through the dark woods.
It took him a moment to get oriented. But he finally realized where he was, what he was doing. It was a shock that his foot didn’t throb when he stepped on it, until he remembered that this place wasn’t real. He wasn’t certain why he was following the woman through the forest, but he knew it was important. Somewhere deep inside, he ached to see her again.
The beauty finally stood still in a small copse of trees, looking around her, as if searching for someone. As if she knew he was coming.
But when he drew nearer, Will realized it was not Sarafina he’d been following but her sister, Katerina.
She had a stench about her that shocked him, but only until he saw the necklace of garlic cloves she wore. That explained the smell. He wasn’t sure how to explain the fact that she wore it. What the hell was she doing in the forest, in the dead of night like this? Meeting Andre, he would bet, although the garlic was a baffling touch.
Then he remembered his last, pain-induced visit. There had been a murder. He’d been in and out, but he’d witnessed some of what had happened. He supposed his imagination was about to add a touch of Universal Monster Classics to the mix.
“Come out, show yourself!” she called suddenly. “I know you’re near. I have something you want!”
He was startled at first, wondering if she were speaking to him.
“Come, I haven’t much time. I’m supposed to be sitting vigil at the side of your latest victim.”
So Sarafina’s sister had not remained at the grave of Belinda as she had said she would. She had begged off with some excuse and instead had wandered into the forest. In search of Belinda’s murderer?
Fingering a pouch at her side, she wandered a few more steps. “Creature! Vampire! Come, make yourself known. You’ve nothing to fear from me.”
Will sensed something, some dark presence, behind her. He tried to shout a warning, but of course the woman couldn’t hear him. A man emerged from the shadows-or at least, he looked like a man, a very large man who was exceedingly pale and moved without making a sound. He crept quietly up behind Katerina, leaned close and whispered in her ear, “ I’ve nothing to fear from you? Do you want to be my next meal, Gypsy girl?”
She jumped at the first words he spoke, whirling to face him, one hand pressing to her chest.
“By the Gods, you reek of garlic,” the vampire said, grimacing in a way that provided the merest glimpse of his elongated incisors. Then the grimace turned into a smile. “You’re amusing to me. Garlic is indeed a powerful root. It can clear a room of negative energy, purify a human body, and banish demons and malicious spirits. That you expect it to keep you safe from me means that you equate me with those things. Poisons, impurity, demons. Is that what you think I am?”
She held up her little pouch, backing away a few steps. “Keep your distance, vampire!” she shouted, shaking the pouch at him like a weapon.
The vampire sniffed the air, then shook his head. “Wolf’s bane? Well, that might work, were you dealing with a lycanthrope. But you are not.”
“I called you here to talk. Only to talk.”
“Then you are a fool. I don’t talk to mortals, I feed on them. I am going to drain you dry in a moment, and there is not one thing you can do to prevent it.”
Will saw the fear in her face, in her eyes, and he knew the man-the vampire, if that were what he was-saw it, too. He seemed pleased by it. But Katerina tried to hide it, lifted her chin and forced herself to speak. “I can give you Sarafina,” she said.
“No!” Will shouted the word but who would hear?
The vampire went very still, frowning at her. She had his full attention now. “She is my sister,” she said. “And I know she is the reason you follow our band and prey on us.”
The vampire rolled his eyes, smiling. “You know nothing, mortal. I take only those who need killing. And I follow only to protect.”
“To protect her?” she asked. “Nonsense, you want to kill her, as you did Belinda.”
He said nothing, but he licked his lips, and his gaze returned to her throat.
“The others are beginning to question Sarafina’s link to you now,” Katerina said, speaking quickly, one hand pressing to her throat, as if it were a protective collar. “They’ve seen her behavior. She isn’t well. Something…weakens her.”
“It is always the way,” the vampire whispered.
Will frowned. What on earth was that supposed to mean?
“What are you talking about?” Katerina asked, echoing Will’s own thoughts.
“Nothing. Tell me, why would you hand your own sister over to a creature you believe would kill her?”
She shrugged. “That’s none of your concern.”
“I watch your tribe, Katerina,” he said. And she gasped, surprised, perhaps, that he knew her name. “I know about you and the man-Andre. And I know your burning jealousy. It blackens your soul and clings to you like a foul stench, more powerful, even, than the garlic you thought would repel me.”
She jerked backward as if he had struck her a blow, but she caught herself quickly. “Do you want her or not?”
“I
