“Lysette—”
“You ought to have stayed on the airship. You’d have been safer in Portugal.”
Emme’s heart leapt into her throat.
“I shall take you back to Edinburgh. I would hate for you to miss your Summit address.”
Lysette struck so swiftly that Emme’s world turned completely black before she hit the ground.
Oliver’s head pounded, and he swayed with the even movement of a well-sprung carriage. He rested against comfortable cushions and was warm and dry despite the obvious sound of rain on the roof.
He squinted at the low light of a small Tesla sconce mounted to the interior wall beside a window adorned with closed velvet drapes. The light pierced the back of his skull, and as he lifted his hand to rub his eyes, the other hand came with it. His wrists were tied securely with rope that bit into his skin when he tried to separate his hands.
He had no idea where he was, or why. He tried opening his eyes again and sat up. The pain in his head intensified to nausea. He took a shallow breath and lifted his hands again and felt along his head to a bump on the back that was raised—and bloody, if the stickiness was any indication.
He opened his eyes a crack to see a bright-red smear on his fingertips. A dry chuckle sounded from a blurred form opposite him, and his heart beat faster. He would know that voice anywhere.
“I would have tried to speak with you using less brutish means, but you’ve built a reputation, brother, as quite a brutish man yourself.”
“Worried I would hurt you, Lawrence?” he mumbled and winced again as he sat up straight.
His brother laughed, but this time there was a sharper edge to it, a coldness. “Of course! Couldn’t have you catching me by surprise, especially with a silver dagger in your boot.” Lawrence leaned forward, and Oliver’s vision finally focused.
He caught his breath. He’d not seen his brother since he was turned, and where he had been handsome before, now he was arresting. He had the undead quality that enhanced every good physical trait, and Oliver had no doubts about how his brother had risen through the underworld ranks. He had always been smart, and now he was more handsome than seemed real.
Each negative trait, those that had driven the brothers apart many years earlier, was also magnified. Oliver felt it as Lawrence smiled and narrowed his eyes. His ability to manipulate, his desire to play to a crowd—those would be enhanced, doubled. Regrettably, the desires that fed the traits would be also.
“Where are you taking me?” It seemed the simplest question to begin the conversation. He realized he’d not made it more than four steps outside the hotel before he’d been assaulted. Emme had been right—he had been in danger. To have remained in the hotel, though—that was unthinkable now. He’d have brought this horror directly to Emme’s feet. She was safe with Gus, and he had to be grateful for that much.
“Only a ride around town so we can renew our bonds of fraternal affection.”
Oliver closed his eyes and leaned his head back, carefully avoiding the lump. “What could you possibly want with me, Lawrence? You and I were getting along well by ignoring each other.”
“Yes. We’ve been ignoring each other for some time. You did not even come to my aid when I was bitten.”
“I contacted you, told you I would catch the first flight to your side. You told me you’d solicited the bite and that I no longer need tell the world I had a brother.”
“Yes, I suppose I did. You irritated me, Oliver. Always did. Always the good one, always doing what you were told, forever currying favor with authority. Until you became the authority yourself.” The sneer was subtle but there.
“And you never wanted a thing to do with pleasing anyone but yourself. Seems we both achieved our ends.” Oliver’s eyes were still closed—it hurt less.
“Are you not worried about exposing your neck to me?” Lawrence’s voice was smooth and low.
Oliver cracked open one eye. “You’d have torn out my throat by now if it suited you. I can only imagine you want to play with me for a time. Like a lion with a mouse.”
“Smug, arrogant. Nothing changes.” Lawrence was across the carriage before Oliver could blink, and the thing baring its teeth and digging its fingernails into his throat was no longer his brother but something else entirely. “Ahh, now your heart beats faster.”
Oliver met his brother’s angry gaze and blinked, but remained silent.
Lawrence slowly released his throat and sank back into his seat, his teeth retracting, the smooth façade returning.
Oliver rubbed his neck. “Of course my heart beat faster.” He coughed, clearing his throat. “I’m not dead.” It seemed counterintuitive to taunt a vampire when he wanted very much to remain alive and spend that life with a feisty social activist, but he was testing Lawrence, searching for his limits, for the odds of finding any remaining humanity.
“I am curious,” he continued, and Lawrence politely inclined his head and gestured for Oliver to continue. “I know a vampire who is a very amiable fellow, seeks for nothing more than to get along with his fellow man. He tells me there are many more like him.”
“Guster Gustavsen?” Lawrence grinned. “Yes. Industrious, kind fellow, wears one of those ridiculous glass-heart tiepins. Stays out of my way, and I allow him to scurry along his own little path. Allowing him to see me tonight was part of my plan. He is nearly as predictable as are you.”
“Are you working with Ronald O’Shea?”
Lawrence arched a perfect brow. “Ronald? Oh, no. His daughter is so much brighter. He jumps at her commands, and as our end goals meet in the same place, a liaison with Lysette O’Shea has been the natural course
