Shattered Mirror

fight.

She opened the door that she knew must lead to Nikolas’s room, but what she found there threw her entirely off balance.

The walls were pure art, covered with pictures drawn in careful black paint, like a sketch enlarged to become a mural.

And sherecognizedthe figures. Kaleo and Kendra, and other high-society vampiric killers, each in aloof portraits, graced the walls. Worse, she recognized her friends—Christopher and Nissa.

Still dazed, she spun when she sensed someone behind her.

Christopher?

He was dressed entirely in black—black boots, black jeans, and a black T-shirt. His hair was much longer than it had been when she saw him last, and the ebony waves were tied back.

He looked exactly the same except for the hair, but something was verywrong.

His expression was dark and angry, as opposed to the open, smiling one she had grown so fond of. But the wrongness didn’t reach her brain until he pushed her back into the wall, forcing the breath from her lungs. The vampire’s aura washed over her like ice water—too strong, too dark. Christopher did not feed on humans, but this vampire did, and probably had for more than a hundred years.

So this is the brother,she found herself thinking. She remembered how Nissa and Christopher had clammed up when she had tried to inquire about Christopher’s twin.Would have been nice to know before stumbling in here.

Too late—she had hesitated for that vital instant and now Nikolas had the advantage. He grabbed both her wrists with one of his hands and held them against the wall, careful to avoid the spring-loaded knife she was wearing on her left arm. He stood to her side, carefully out of kicking range.

Sarah was concentrating, preparing to strike him with her mind, when his free hand came from nowhere and hit her.

“Don’t try it, Sarah.” His voice was similar to Christopher’s—a slight southern accent, so like the one she had come to trust.

She pulled her mind away from Nikolas’s family—he was a threat, and that was all that mattered.

Yet he wasn’t doing anything threatening at the moment. Instead, he was regarding her with curiosity. “Sarah Vida, I presume?” he inquired, voice civil.

“Making sure introductions are out of the way before we fight?” she asked flippantly.

“I’ll admit I’m flattered to have such a prestigious hunter track me down,” he answered calmly, “but I haven’t the faintest idea how to deal with you.”

That threw her off guard. So far as she knew, there was only one way vampires “dealt with” hunters who entered their lairs.

“Want to hear my suggestions?” she asked, voice light, the words a cover as she started to raise power again.

He raised one eyebrow. “I don’t think we’re—” He broke off and hit her again, the blow making her head spin. “I said not to try it.”

So he could feel her building power; that much was obvious. She would simply have to wait for a chance when he was distracted, which meant she might need to wait for him to bite her.

“If you’re going to kill me, go ahead. If you’re waiting for me to scream or beg, your expectations are way off.”

“Your control is really that good?” She heard in his voice that he had taken her words as a challenge.

It was a challenge she knew she could win. He could break her neck easily if he wanted to, but if he wanted to hear her scream, he would have to hurt her. Badly. That would take time, and time would give her a chance to escape. “Yes, it is.”

Nikolas pulled a knife from his pocket: an ivory-handled jackknife with a rose inlay made of black stone. Opening it, he pressed it against her left wrist, just hard enough for her to feel the sharpness of the blade against her skin.

“If that’s supposed to be a threat, it won’t work,” she informed him as he glanced to her face as if to gauge her expression. “A cut there would bleed out quickly. If you mean to feed on me, you won’t waste so much blood.”

“And if I just mean to kill you?” he inquired.

“You would have done so already,” she answered, her voice calm despite her uncertainty.

“You sure you won’t beg?” he asked, offering her one last chance to avoid pain.

“Quite sure.”

Still holding her wrists with his right hand, he held the knife in his left hand, and pressed the blade into her shoulder—one sharp cut, about an inch in length.

Her muscle twitched as the knife cut through it, but Sarah refused to let pain show on her face. She used her training in order to not react, since he was looking for a response. She could take a lot of damage and heal from it. Sooner or later, he would slip up, and then he would be dead.

He pulled the knife upward, this cut at a slight angle to the last one, and then down again, as if making a Z.

Or an N.

The next cut was just beside the last line of the first letter, a half-inch line, and the next was a line parallel to the second letter. She knew what he was writing, and sighed, realizing this could be a long night. Two more short lines followed the most recent, making a K, and then a rough, squared-off circle.

Nikolas.

If it scarred, she was going to be really annoyed.

“Is your control really this good, or are you a secret masochist?” Nikolas asked as he cut the tail of the S, a jagged underline.

“Is this a ritual thing, or are you just a sadist?” she returned, impatient. Though he was enjoying his busywork, he wasn’t focused enough for Sarah to act.

“Both,” he answered, laughing, as he turned to the other arm. “You can ask me to stop any time now.” She understood what he really meant—You can break down and beg.“Or must I continue?”

“Hurry up, would you?” She yawned. “I have to get to the drugstore before it closes. We’re out of Band-Aids at my house.”

Nikolas laughed. “Don’t worry about that—you won’t need them.”

The rose petals were more difficult, and Nikolas did not say anything as he worked on them. When he moved to the ivy she took a deep breath, preparing herself. The ivy’s stem twined around the wrist; in order to cut the full design, Nikolas would need to shift his grip.

Her arms had gone numb from the abuse and from being held above her head so long, which was actually a good thing. The pain was dulling.

“I hope that blade is clean. I would hate for this to get infected.” She spoke to break the silence and keep hold of her bravado.

As she had predicted, Nikolas loosened his grip for a split second, and Sarah seized her moment, wrenching her arms down and drawing her knife at the same time. Nikolas only barely managed to avoid the silver blade as she swung it in his direction.

“You’re not as quick as some of your kin, Sarah,” he informed her, from just outside striking distance.

She laughed slightly. “Quick enough.”

“Quicker than Elisabeth?” he inquired, and her eyes narrowed as she remembered the long hours of history. Nikolas was one of very few vampires who had killed a Vida and survived to speak of it.

“How much of a fight did she put up?” Sarah snapped. “Did she at least get a knife in you before she died?”

“Not in me.” The words were almost a growl. “Get out of my house, Sarah. I will see you shortly.”

He disappeared before she could react.

As she relaxed, the knife fell from her numb fingertips. She picked it up with her left hand, which wasn’t