Of course! Weapons. He had some new hunting knives in the armory they might like. And perhaps a supply of arrows? Some new swords?
What else? His gaze drifted across the bookshelves in his library. The books in Frederic’s cabin were practically falling apart from heavy use.
He sat at his desk, and on the computer, he located an online bookseller. But what to buy? Apparently, the women had enjoyed Ivanhoe and A Tale of Two Cities, so he ordered a few books by Sir Walter Scott and Charles Dickens. And Neona had said Pride and Prejudice was her favorite, so he bought some other works by Jane Austen.
Domokos shuffled inside and set his tray on the table by the hearth. “Is there anything else I can do for you, my lord?”
“No, I’m fine. There should be a package arriving tomorrow. Books.”
“Yes, my lord.” Domokos filled a wineglass with synthetic blood.
“Do you know of any authors similar to Jane Austen?”
“Excuse me?”
“I need some books like Pride and Prejudice.”
“Ah.” Domokos gave him a curious look. “Have you taken a sudden interest in Regency England?”
“I’m buying some gifts,” Zoltan muttered. “I need to make friends with a group of women.”
“Women?”
“You heard me.” Zoltan gave his steward an annoyed look as the old man brought the wineglass to him. “Any ideas?”
“My wife likes to read historical romance novels.” Domokos handed him the wineglass. “I believe they are quite similar.”
“All right. I’ll get some of those.” He took a long drink.
“My wife is also particularly fond of vampire romance.”
Zoltan swallowed so hard that his eyes watered. “Are you serious? Do people really write those? And read them?”
“I’m afraid so, my lord. They appear to be quite popular.”
“Why?” Zoltan set the glass down. “We’re dead half the time. And until recently, we couldn’t father children.”
Domokos’s mouth twitched. “I believe the writers are focusing on your other attributes, my lord.”
Zoltan gazed at him blankly.
Domokos cleared his throat. “Your prowess in the bedchamber, my lord.”
His eyes widened. “How would they know what I’m doing in bed?”
“They don’t, my lord. It’s fiction.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Although they do seem to make the heroes all extremely gifted and well endowed. With skills that are quite legendary.” Domokos shrugged. “Like I said, it’s fiction.”
Zoltan’s jaw shifted. “Right.”
Domokos’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Is there anything else I can do for you, my lord?”
“No.” Zoltan gave him a wry look. “You’ve helped enough.”
“Then I’ll wish you a good evening, my lord.” Domokos bowed and hobbled toward the door.
“Fiction,” Zoltan muttered as he searched through the top-selling books in historical romance. He added a few more books to the shopping cart, then paid extra for one-day delivery.
Books and weapons. What else could he bring as a peace offering? It felt like he was forgetting something. Given the fact that Lord Liao was searching for them, he was tempted to equip them with short-range missiles.
He finished his bottle of blood, then took it and the wineglass to the kitchen. There, he left a note for Howard on top of his donut box.
Castle tour this afternoon, so I’m sleeping in Budapest. Will return after sunset.
Sheesh, the damned bear was training him to report in. He went to the armory and selected half a dozen hunting knives and swords, plus a box of arrows. He left them on the table, then teleported to the library in his townhouse. There he paced about restlessly, wishing he were still with Neona. Make love to me, she’d urged him. Would she still be that eager when she learned he was a vampire?
He pushed that thought aside and focused instead on how wonderful she’d felt in his arms. Firm, muscular, sweetly rounded. Whatever her age was, she looked like she couldn’t be more than twenty-five.
Her armor had made her appear like an ancient Greek soldier. Had the armor come from her father? When had a Greek army traveled that far east?
He turned on his computer and did a search. Alexander the Great had reached as far as India before his army had rebelled, demanding to return home. Had one of the soldiers deserted, fleeing north into the mountains? He winced at the date: 326 BC. Could Neona be over two thousand years old?
“Damn,” he whispered. He was used to always being the older one, but this made his eight hundred years seem puny.
Two thousand years, living in Beyul-La, protecting . . . what? The fact that they were old? What was the point in living that long if you lived in a prison? Unless there was something else they were protecting.
Like what? It couldn’t be gold or jewels, not when they lived so simply, with their homemade clothes and shoes. He racked his brain but couldn’t come up with anything else.
A sudden thought caused a chill to run down his spine. Neona might have been alive in 1241. She might have been one of the fierce warriors who had avenged his mother’s death. She might have even shot the arrow that had killed his father.
“Shit.” Was he falling in love with his father’s killer?
Chapter Eleven
The next evening after sunset, Zoltan jerked awake in his hidden bedroom at the townhouse. With a burst of energy, he showered, dressed, and teleported to the kitchen of his castle for breakfast. One good thing about being a Vamp, he thought as he waited for his bottle to heat up in the microwave, was that no matter how troubled he was, he always slept like the dead. Literally.
Now he was alive again, and the worries were back. Had Neona taken part in the murder of his father and the deaths of so many villagers back in 1241? How could he ask her such a question?
Innocent or killer? It kept going back to the same question. He wanted to believe in her innocence, but reality kept showing him something else—Neona shooting arrows at him that first night. Swinging a sword at him. Hell, she’d raked a knife down his body last night. But that was to convince him to leave. She wasn’t trying to kill him anymore. She wanted to protect him.
Would that change when she found out he was a vampire?
The microwave beeped and he removed his bottle, glancing at the time. Would she meet him at the cabin again at midnight?
“Shit!” He slammed the bottle down. The watch! He’d promised her a watch!
“Dammit.” He knew he’d forgotten something.
“There you are.” Howard entered the kitchen, carrying a new sat phone. “I brought this for you.”
Zoltan ignored him and guzzled down his bottle of blood. He’d teleport into town. There was a jewelry store on Main Street that catered to tourists. Old man Janos would have some nice watches.
Howard set the sat phone on the counter next to him. “Some packages arrived for you today. Two boxes of books. But before you leave—”
“I have to go somewhere first.”
“What? Where?”
“Town.” Zoltan tossed the empty bottle into the recycle bin. “I need to buy a watch.”
“You have a watch.”
Zoltan gritted his teeth. “Are bears always so damned nosy?”
“Ah. It’s for your girlfriend.”
“Do me a favor and put all the books in a duffel bag. And there are some weapons on the table in the armory. Pack them up for me, too. I’ll be right back.”
“You’d better come back,” Howard said quickly before he could teleport away. “We moved the mummy this morning, and Elsa wants to make sure you’re happy with it.”
“Fine.” Zoltan teleported to a dark alley close to the village square where the two streets intersected. Main Street and High Street.
Some villagers were seated outside the pub, drinking, while some others sat in front of the restaurant, eating. A few waved and called out greetings as he strode toward the jewelry store. He waved back, then pulled on the door handle. Locked. Damn. Janos was closed for the day?
He teleported inside. “Janos!” The old man lived in the back, so he should hear him. “Janos?”
“Coming!”
Zoltan wandered toward the first glass case, looking for a woman’s watch. Necklaces, rings . . . a set of wedding rings caught his eye. Simple, but elegant.
“My lord?” Janos limped slowly into the room. He’d suffered an injury back in the second human world war. “I was just about to have supper.”
“My apologies for disturbing you. I won’t take much of your time. I need a watch.”
Janos’s gaze shifted to Zoltan’s wrist. “You have a watch.”
“I need a woman’s watch.”
Janos gasped.
Was it that shocking? “I’ve bought jewelry for women before,” Zoltan growled.
“Not in my lifetime.” Janos stepped closer, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Are you serious about her, my lord? Will there be a countess soon at the castle?”
Zoltan grimaced. It was a bloody shame he didn’t have time to buy the damned watch online. Now Janos was going to spread the word, and before the night was over, the whole village would be planning his wedding.
“I have some lovely engagement rings over here.” Janos scurried behind the first glass case, moving exceptionally well for a man with a limp.
“I want a watch,” Zoltan muttered. “And no publicity regarding the matter.”
“Oh.” Janos’s shoulders slumped. “Very well.” He hobbled over to another case as if he were suddenly in pain again. “I’m afraid we’re running low. The tour bus this afternoon was filled with newlyweds, and they bought the best ones.”
“What?” A frisson of horror skittered through Zoltan when he realized the watch case was practically empty. “I only need one. A pretty one.”
“I ordered some more after the tour bus left. They’ll be here in a few days.”
“I need something tonight!”
Janos winced. “Well, as you can see, we have a few men’s watches. And then there’s this one.” He retrieved a watch from the case and set it on a square of black velvet. “These are very popular, especially among the younger women. I suppose your lady friend is on the young side?”
Zoltan gritted his teeth. She might be over two thousand years old. He eyed the watch with its hot pink band and sparkly decoration. “What is that? A cat?”
“Hello Kitty,” Janos murmured. “I can give you an excellent price for it.”
Zoltan grabbed the watch and studied it closely.
“Is she fond of cats, my lord?”
He snorted. “I suppose so. Box it up. And when your new ones come in, save the most expensive one for me.”
“Yes, my lord. Of course. We’ll let this one be on the house, shall we?”
“Thank you, Janos.” Zoltan shoved the small gift box into his jacket and teleported back to the castle. He found Howard in the armory stuffing the box of arrows into a huge duffel bag.
“Good, you’re back.” Howard set the last of the books into the overloaded bag and struggled to zip it shut. “I promised Elsa you would drop by the chapel. I helped Alastair move the mummy this morning before the tour, and Domokos followed us the entire time, warning us that you would throw a fit if anything happened to it.”
Zoltan snorted. “I don’t throw fits.”
Howard gave him a curious look. “Domokos said it was special to you, but he wouldn’t explain why.”
“I’ll go there now.”
Howard straightened. “Wait. You need your—”
Zoltan teleported to the courtyard and looked around in the moonlight. The main keep where he and his servants lived was in excellent shape since he’d renovated it about twenty years earlier, but the east wing and tower were in bad shape. They were now sectioned off with yellow tape.
He zoomed over to the chapel. Built five hundred years ago, it still boasted the original stone walls, but he’d had to replace the roof and stained glass windows two hundred years ago.
Inside, he found Elsa equipped with a spray bottle of glass cleaner and a roll of paper towels, busily polishing up the glass case that housed the mummy. The wooden chairs had been removed to make room for the glass case, which was now resting on several wooden crates so it was waist high.
“Good evening,” Zoltan said.
Elsa jumped, turning to face him. “Oh, you came.” She set down the Windex bottle and paper towels on a windowsill. “The glass got all smudged with fingerprints from the tourists. I wanted to make sure you were happy with the mummy’s new home.”
Zoltan walked around the glass case, studying the familiar form inside. “She looks fine.”
Elsa approached. “I thought it might be a woman, but I wasn’t sure. Did you know her?”
Zoltan nodded, his mouth quirking with a wry smile. “She would probably find it amusing to be housed in a chapel.”
“Why? Was she very religious?”
Before Zoltan could answer, Howard rushed inside the chapel and screeched to a halt.
He glowered at Zoltan. “You had to teleport here? Don’t you know exercise is good for you?”
Zoltan snorted. “Would I live longer? What took you so long?”
“You left your sat phone in the kitchen.” Howard handed it to Zoltan.
“Guess what?” Elsa grabbed her husband and pulled him over to the glass case. “Zoltan just told me the mummy is a she. I already suspected that, though. See the long hair? And she’s a little short, just around five feet, although I suppose men were shorter, too, at one time.”