“Who the fuck are you?” Prepared to battle yet another assassin, she waited, her every sense keen.
“I am Anastas.… It means ‘resurrection’ in my native language. So, you might say, I have come back to see if the rumors were true. And they are.”
Still wary, Tanya circled him slowly, watching him turn with her in a counterclockwise direction. This vampire was definitely dangerous, but why had he helped her? There was no such thing as a free lunch, so what did he want? Maybe the chance to kill her for himself?
She drank in everything about him, trying to place him. He felt familiar, but he wasn’t controlled by Dimitri at all. Odd. His intense dark brown eyes held a bit of a smile in them, and his auburn hair hung about his broad shoulders in an old-world way. His accent had that formal Eastern Bloc ring to it, but she couldn’t place it. Strong chin, strong, solid features. Tall. Maybe six two or three. A hint of five o’clock shadow graced his jaw. Beside his brown leather jacket, he wore an ebony turtleneck, jeans, and scuffed, well-worn brown leather boots. If they both walked out of the park alive, she would not forget him.
Suddenly he stopped circling with her. “This dance is making us both dizzy. Can I buy you a drink?”
She stopped moving and stared at him. “What?”
“A drink. You have to eat, and so do I after expending so much energy.”
She hated that he was right. “What do you want?”
“I needed to see for myself that Dimitri lost his life to the black Madonna. Or black widow, as the case may be. A centuries-old vampire taken down by a human hit woman on the payroll for the human mafia, who in death has grown a conscience and only wants her coven to kill those who she feels deserve that fate. Completely fascinating.”
“So, you’ve seen. But that doesn’t explain what else you want.”
He shrugged with a casual smile. “I’m very old, too. I am not easily fascinated. I like being fascinated. A few centuries from now, you will be like me, a slave to intrigue and curiosity.”
“Fall back. I don’t know who you are or—”
“I already told you. I am Anastas Baranov, but to clarify, made in the sixteenth century in Poland. Sadly, that bastard Dimitri turned my father, who immediately came home and savaged my mother and sisters … and I was injured while trying to save them. I killed him, but I had already been badly bitten and lost a lot of blood. I think I survived three nights, but escaped my own funeral. In those days humans were wiser. They drove a stake through your corpse’s heart or beheaded it if they even suspected … but I digress. That is unpleasant conversation for a lady. How about that drink?”
“And now you come to claim Dimitri’s inheritance by assassinating me.” Tanya stood her ground, immovable.
“No. I want nothing he owned. He took all that meant anything to me. But I have been systematically wiping out his line for centuries. It was an old grudge match between us. Haven’t you wondered why none of his made have come to you?”
Tanya tilted her head slightly; the subtle gesture was all that she would allow right now as a possible concession.
“Correct,” he said, giving her a slight nod in return. “Your lair should have been flooded by all whom he made. But you’ve only sent out telepathic desires, yes?”
“And?” Tanya could feel her hands balling into fists; the line of questioning was hitting too close to home. It made her nervous. She hated people knowing more about her than she knew about them, especially people she didn’t know squat about.
Anastas gave her a broad, toothy grin. “Those loyalists are afraid because they know that having them does not please you. Fear makes them dangerous, but they cannot kill that which has made them once fully turned. It is vampire law. So they avoid you like the plague until you call them for a specific task. But do not make it a big task, as there are not so many of them left now.” He chuckled and began walking away from her. “This last month I’ve culled the ranks. I had to act quickly while you were still learning.”
“And you think now you can come for me!”
He turned slowly to face her. “I do not wish to kill you, but I will do so if you force me to defend myself. My complaint was with Dimitri, not you. Now he is gone, so I have no complaint.”
“And you just showed up for giggles and grins after killing anyone who could help me.”
“Or kill you,” he replied calmly. “Dimitri was a cruel master. Many wanted him dead, but none dared to try. They couldn’t. But who knows what pledges they have made, what bargains were out there in the streets? My killing them sent a message. I don’t think they will attempt any more backroom alliances now for a while.”
“And I guess your thugs will—”
“I work alone. I always have. I have never eaten from an innocent or turned anyone else into this abomination that you and I have become. If you do not understand anything else, know that.”
She watched him lift his chin with dignity, scanning him in search of any deceit. “All right, then, how about that drink?”
They sat at a bar in an upscale sushi house, watching the ebb and flow of the human traffic with a merlot before her and a fine vodka before him, both drinking nothing.
“Did Dimitri ever come for you?” she said in a quiet tone, staring into the ruby liquid in front of her and wishing it didn’t have to be blood. She missed wine. A lot.
“Plenty of times. That was the great game of it. I wanted to drive him insane with anger. I wanted to make him kill me as badly as I wished I could kill him. But he was stronger. So I had to chip away at his peace of mind and erode his borders.”
“Gangsta,” she said with a smile, and then looked up at Anastas. “So, you could kill his lesser made men because you were made by your father—not by Dimitri.”
“Yes,” Anastas said, and then brought the vodka to his nose to savor its scent. “Dimitri did not directly make me, so he had no direct control over me. He would have told my father to force me to come to him, as he controlled my father, and my father would have controlled me. The one problem Dimitri always had was that I’d escaped my father’s control by stabbing that murderous bastard in his heart with a chair leg. That is how a rogue like me … and you … is created.” Anastas clinked his short rocks glass against Tanya’s long-stemmed wineglass. “This is also why you fascinate me so. You killed Dimitri much like I killed my father, through much good luck, and have now set edicts in place that go against every decadent principle Dimitri ever infested the world with. This I like.”
Tanya gave Anastas another half smile, but this time she could feel a slight hint of fang beginning to show. “And how do I know this isn’t bullshit?”
Anastas shook his head and chuckled. “You already know it is not. You have scanned me for fraud or you wouldn’t be sitting here with me now. Do not try to bullshit an old bullshitter.”
This time he made her laugh.
“Okay, but seriously, what do you really want?”
His smile faded. “Somewhere to go.”
His sudden seriousness caught her off guard, but the intensity in his gaze told her that he’d spoken the truth.
“I don’t understand,” she said just above a murmur.
“My purpose is over. I have won,” he said in a sad, far-off tone, and then looked out the window beyond her. “For hundreds of years my goal was to make Dimitri’s existence miserable—taking sick joy from the vengeance. Then in one night, he gets careless and allows himself to get killed by a woman of dubious principles, but principles I admire nonetheless. So, now, where will I go? I have made no others to stand with me. The other covens shun me, for a rogue in their lair is a dangerous thing. Other rogues are few and far between. Most do not last as long as I have. And so,” he added with a sad chuckle, bringing his gaze back to hers, “I am without a purpose. Shall I eat and exist for more centuries with nothing to do? Or shall I ask to be adopted by the one being that bested my nemesis … with a pledge of loyalty to protect you from other covens that may wish to annex power.”
“You said having a rogue in your lair was a dangerous thing.”
Anastas nodded and stood. “It is. But I can teach you how to elude other masters. The offer stands. We both have time to decide, but first I think we should have that drink.” He inclined his head toward an Asian businessman speaking to what looked like an elderly Wall Street banker. “They have eaten well and have high blood alcohol content. Their souls are also dirty as hell … so?”
