found him.”
“What happened?” asked Jamie.
“Alexandru tore her to pieces. In front of everyone, he pulled this poor, stupid girl limb from limb and laughed at her as she screamed. There were probably twenty vampires in the room, some of them old, all of them powerful, and no one said a word. Or looked away. Even when he ate her heart.”
Jamie felt bile rise in his stomach.
“He sent Anderson out to the farm the girl had come from,” she continued. “Anderson killed the farmer’s family-his wife-and three children. He cut their throats and let them bleed out on the kitchen floor, staring at each other as they died.” Larissa looked at him, a gentle expression on her face. “ That’s what Alexandru is like,” she said, softly. “He’s an animal. A clever, cunning animal, who delights in violence and mayhem. He’s stronger and faster than anyone on the planet, human or vampire, and he can sense danger before it appears. You can’t trick him, or sneak up on him, and you certainly can’t fight him.”
Jamie stared at her, hopelessness filling his chest. “Then what am I supposed to do?” he asked.
“That’s easy. You’re supposed to make sure you never cross his path. But that’s not an option for you, is it?”
“Not really.”
“In that case I don’t know what you’re supposed to do. I don’t see any way you pursuing Alexandru ends with anything apart from him killing you.” Larissa looked at the disconsolate expression on Jamie’s face, and sympathy overwhelmed her. “I’m not the authority on Alexandru,” she said, gently. “Talk to people. Maybe someone knows something I don’t.”
Jamie looked at her, and his pale blue eyes were heavy with despair. “No one will tell me anything,” he said, his voice cracking. “They’re all terrified of him. No one will risk him finding out they talked to me.”
“Talk to the monster.”
“Why?”
“Because all this started with your dad. And my understanding is they were close.”
“Frankenstein said the same thing.”
“Ask him about Ilyana. Ask him about Hungary. Ask him why he hasn’t told you about it already. And if you’re feeling brave, ask him whose side he’s really on.”
Jamie felt a wave of nausea shoot through him. “Thank you,” he said, stiffly.
She flashed him a dazzling smile and reclined on the floor of her cell. Her gray shirt rode up, exposing a band of pale midriff, and Jamie fought the urge to stare at it.
“Always glad to be of service,” she said.
He knocked on the door to Frankenstein’s quarters, and waited. It was late, well past midnight, but he doubted the monster would be asleep. He had been standing in the corridor for almost fifteen minutes, preparing himself, thinking about his father, really thinking about his father for the first time since his life had been turned upside down.
He had rejected the things Seward had told him, out of hand. The thought that his dad could have betrayed his friends and allied himself with someone like Alexandru was impossible for him to accept.
But then he had thought about his mother, asking her husband every evening, year after year, how his day had been, and thought about his father smiling and lying to her face, inventing people who didn’t exist and stories that hadn’t happened, and his faith in the man he had loved more than any other had been shaken.
Larissa was right: He needed to know more about Julian Carpenter, about the real man his father had been.
There was a shuffling noise from behind the door, then it opened, and a huge face loomed out of the darkened room.
“Is something wrong?” the monster grunted.
Jamie shook his head.
“So why are you here?”
“I want to ask you some questions.”
“About what?”
“About my dad.”
Frankenstein looked at the teenager for a long moment, then sighed deeply. “Give me five minutes,” he said, and closed the door.
24
New York, USA
January 1, 1929
“ Happy New Year, Mr. Carpenter,” said Valentin, in a smooth, gentle voice. “I wonder if it will be your last?”
Carpenter turned slowly to face him. The man’s eyes now shone red, a red that was somehow simultaneously both dark and bright against the pale perfection of his skin.
“Do you know me?” Valentin continued.
Carpenter nodded.
“Good. We are well met, and I welcome you to my home. Although why you are here is a question that interests me a great deal.”
Valentin glanced over at someone in the crowd and nodded. There was a commotion as the guests parted, creating a path to where Carpenter and Valentin stood. Through this gap two large men in white tie appeared, dragging a barely conscious Frankenstein between them and depositing him heavily onto the floor. The monster’s eyes rolled in his head, his mouth hanging stupidly open.
Carpenter made to kneel next to the fallen man, but Valentin told him sharply to stay where he was, and he forced himself to comply.
“Your friend has an impressive appetite for opium,” said Valentin. “It isn’t easy to incapacitate a man of his size, but we persevered.” He smiled at Carpenter, but when he spoke again, his voice contained not a trace of humor. “Tell me, Mr. Carpenter, are you here to kill me?”
Carpenter was surprised to find his equilibrium returning; the likely inevitability of his death had sunk into him, and he was determined that he would not show this creature fear if he could help it.
“No,” he replied. “That is not my mission. But I would certainly consider it a bonus.”
Valentin took half a step toward him, his teeth bared, an awful, serpentine hiss rising in his throat, then quickly regained his composure and laughed-a high, feminine sound that echoed around the cavernous ballroom.
“I admire your honesty,” he said. “Most refreshing. So, if you are not here for me, who are you here for? Given what I know of your father and his friends, I am disinclined to believe you are in New York for a holiday. Am I correct?”
“You are. I came here for one of your guests.”
“Anyone in particular?”
“Jeremiah Haslett.”
A low murmur of interest rolled through the crowd.
“And what has Mr. Haslett done to warrant transatlantic pursuit?”
“His crimes are too numerous to list. But they are also largely irrelevant; he is a vampire, and that alone is enough to warrant his extermination.”
The crowd around him pulsed and hissed, but he felt no fear; it was already clear to him that Valentin alone was going to decide his fate, that the crowd of snarling vampires would do nothing without his permission.
Their host regarded him for a long moment, then spoke. “Bring Mr. Haslett before me.”
